Page 59 of Love Game

“Yes, I have.” The pause that followed became Awkward Silence Part III: The Sound of Static. Bracing himself for impact, he plowed ahead. “You may have heard of her, actually. Lord knows you’ve spent enough time watching for me or Tommy on NSN. Her name is Kate Snyder, and she’s the women’s basketball coach here at Wolcott.”

“The coach?”

The quaver was back now too, and the dam Danny had so carefully built around his anger sprang a slow leak. “Yes, Ma, the coach. Did you think I was going to tell you she was a player?”

“No, I just…I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Oh, he had no doubt about that. He just wasn’t sure what was shocking about her heterosexual son announcing that he’d met a woman who interested him. Suddenly, he wanted her to explain it to him. “Surprised about what exactly?”

“Well, after all that happened…”

She trailed off, leaving the thought dangling like the belt around the monk’s robe he was apparently supposed to put on the minute his last serious girlfriend had decided to marry his baby brother instead.

“After what happened,” he repeated, unable to keep the edge from his voice. “You mean, after your precious Tommy set me up to get shit-canned and then married the woman I loved?”

Okay, so it was the Reader’s Digest version of what went down, but hit all the high points. They just hadn’t unfolded in that order.

“Daniel.”

For once in his life, the use of his full name had little impact on him. “No, Ma, I’m not the one who screwed up. I’m not the one who betrayed his own brother. I’m done taking the flack for what he did.”

“But is dating this coach woman even allowed?”

She stopped him dead in his tracks. It wasn’t that she’d struck the nail on the head regarding his relationship with Kate but the fact that she still insisted on deflecting and denying on her baby boy’s behalf. Ignoring her question, he decided to use a little razzle-dazzle himself.

“She’s amazing, Ma. Smart, funny, and totally down to earth. A great coach. Her interaction with the players is amazing. Instinctive. And you’ve seen her, right? Six foot two and beautiful. You know, a natural kind of beauty,” he added, knowing that his mother never approved of the overblown women that flocked to men who made their living in professional athletics. “Dark hair and really pretty, brownish-gold eyes. Like the color of good Irish whiskey, you know?” And because it never hurt to play on patriotism, he dangled the shiniest bit of background. “Has an Olympic gold medal too.”

“But if she works for the school—”

“Ma, don’t.”

“I worry. You just got your job back.”

Catapulting from his chair, he pressed his knuckles into the desk as he leaned over the phone and spoke directly into the receiver. “I’ve had a job all along. Maybe not at this level, but I’ve always been the head coach, no matter where I went. I’m no one’s assistant. And believe me, no one called in any favors to get those jobs for me,” he growled.

“I’m only saying—”

“I know what you’re saying, but I’m tired of playing the fuckup. I’m not the one who did all this.”

“Don’t you use that language with me,” she huffed.

“Stop acting like I’m the screwup,” he barked. “I did everything right. I did everything I was supposed to do. I took the fall, but now I’m back up, and all I’m asking is for you to be happy for me, for once in your life. Just me. Not because I can do something to help you or Tommy, but because, right or wrong, I’m doing something for myself.”

He hung his head, letting his gaze go unfocused as he listened to his mother’s quiet crying on the other end of the line. A sound he’d heard too many times. One he shouldn’t be listening to now, when he’d been trying to tell her he finally found someone who made him happy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. After a lifetime of conditioning, the words came automatically. What he wasn’t used to hearing was the rasp of tears in his own voice. He cleared his throat. “I am. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Ma.”

Sinking back into his chair, he fanned the pages of the open file with the pad of his thumb. Each sheet featured a meticulously kept record of every attempt at player contact. He wasn’t taking any hits he didn’t deserve. Not from anyone.

“No, it’s not allowed, Ma, but I don’t care.” Certainty settled deep in his gut. “You see? That’s why I had to tell you. It’s not allowed, and I don’t care. That’s how much I care about her. I just wanted you to know.”

* * *

Calhoun’s was quiet. The students were gone, and the summer crowd wasn’t big on spending gorgeous, warm evenings in dank, dark bars. That made it the perfect spot for this particular meeting of the minds. Kate smiled as Avery glanced over her shoulder, pushed aside the scotch she’d ordered, and reached for one of the tall straws protruding from Millie’s unguarded hurricane glass.

“Why don’t you just order one for yourself?” Kate asked as Avery used the tip of her finger to siphon off a hit of strawberry daiquiri.

“I refuse to subscribe to society’s preordained notions of what a woman should drink.” With a shrug, Avery drew the straw from the glass, positioned the business end over her open mouth, and lifted her finger.

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