Page 111 of Beautiful Broken Love

Of course, when I emerged, I could still hear them.

“It’s not looking good for him. The Ravens signed him for one of their biggest contracts yet, and I bet they’re regretting it.”

“Yikes,” one of them said. “All I know is if Bishop doesn’t get his head in the game, the Ravens aren’t going to send him packing. They’re going to send himflying.” To make matters worse, a bird cawed at the end of their chat.

Good Lord. Deke was right. Theydidtalk a lot of shit.

I went back to my seat on the porch, pulling my phone out again and searching for highlights from Deke’s game. Seeing him pop up on my screen caused a wrenching in my chest.

I watched one clip, where he let the ball slip out of his hands, followed by another, where he took a shot and missed. Right after missing, he turned away, with his head shaking in defeat and his hands low on his hips.

There was another of him dropping the ball, which resulted in a turnover.

There was a close-up of him bent over, hands on his knees, eyes ahead, sweat dripping from his forehead to the tip of his nose. He waslooking around the stadium like he was searching for something. Orsomeone.

Nothing could beat the last clip I saw, where Deke missed the buzzer shot, walked toward the chairs, and kicked one so hard it flew back and slammed into the rails. Right after, he walked to the locker rooms with his head down. Apparently, he was fined for that.

I turned my phone on its face and swallowed. This was my fault.

“You know I lost your grandma right around the time I met your daddy, right?” Mama asked with a lazy smile. She was talking to Octavia, but the question caught my ear.

“Wait, what? I didn’t know that,” I said.

“Oh yeah!” She sat higher in her chair. “We met when I had a job at the blood bank. He was smitten.” She chuckled. “The day he came in was about three or so days after my mom passed, and I was so upset. I didn’t want to work, but I had to, because I needed money. All he wanted was to make me smile, and he accomplished it. He made me feel better in a lot of ways, even though I didn’t really want to be with him—or anyone for that matter.” She tapped her chin. “Yeah, after meeting him, I sort of spiraled. And I could never figure out why he stuck around when all I cared about was drinking and partying and hanging with my girls. There was a point where I was flat-out telling him to leave, because he could do better than me. I mean, really? He was such a nice, handsome man. He didn’t need to waste his time on me.”

Wow. That sounds awfully familiar.

“Sounds like somebody was a bitch.” Octavia snickered into her glass.

Mama picked up something next to her and threw it at my sister, and I busted out laughing when I realized it was a gardening glove.

“Anyway... I was not so wise then. I should’ve loved him properly while I had the chance.”

My heart ached a little hearing that. I remembered all the times my dad put in effort for Mama, only for her to brush it off or pretendit was no big deal. There were women whocravedthe kind of love and attention he poured on her. She never seemed to care, though ... but she did take advantage of it. I didn’t want to be like that.

“I’m going to make a sandwich,” Octavia said, already standing and heading for the door.

“Bring me a water!” Mama called.

When the door clicked shut, I put my attention on Mama again. “I feel guilty about a situation similar to what you went through with Daddy.”

Her brows dipped. “How do you mean?”

“There’s this guy I’ve been working with who’s been giving me a lot of his attention. He’s so sweet and funny, but ... I’m rejecting him.” I paused, rubbing the rim of my wineglass. “I guess I feel the same as you did. Like he deserves better. Plus, it feels too soon after Lew to eventhinkabout going that deep with anyone else. It just progressed so fast, and it completely blindsided me when I thought about it.”

Mama scanned me with her eyes, before setting her wineglass down and scooching to the end of the cushioned chair. “Who is this guy you’re talking about?”

I glanced at her. “His name is Deke.”

“Well, what does he look like?”

“Why does that matter?” I asked, cracking a smile.

“Girl, it matters a whole lot! What does he look like? I need to see who has you all torn up! I knew something else was wrong when you first walked into the house.”

I choked on a laugh as I unlocked my phone and went to Deke’s Instagram. I clicked on one of his recent pictures, where he was at a charity function at the recreational center he owned, and handed the phone to her.

She looked down at the screen the way older people tend to do, with their chins tipped and their eyes pointed downward. “That is one fine-looking man.”

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