Page 111 of Over the Moon

He took the seat across from me. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. Just typing in some notes for a few of the athletes I met with this morning. What’s up?” I asked.

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Is Chadwick being nicer to you now that you’re not only training him?” he asked, and I felt bad that we’d made him think Clark didn’t like me.

“Yes. We’re all good now. I’d even say he’s friendly to me.” I cleared my throat because I was uncomfortable about being dishonest about all of this.

“Glad to hear it. And Randall, is he treating you well?” There was an edge in his voice, but I couldn’t quite read it.

“Yes. He’s fine.” I kept my answer short because he wasn’t fine. He was constantly picking at me, and it was obvious he didn’t want me here.

“All right. I wanted to talk to you about a few observations I noticed in the scrimmage yesterday and thought you, me, and your father could grab dinner tonight so it’s not quite so formal.” An easy grin spread across his face. He was a good-looking man, and he exuded confidence.

“Oh, er, yes,” I said, clearing my throat and looking back at my computer screen. “Let me check my calendar.”

“Sure. I know it’s last minute. I just need to get out of this place sometimes and thought a nice restaurant would be a more comfortable meeting place.”

I already knew that I didn’t have anything on the calendar because I was making Clark his mom’s famous lasagna tonight. “Yes, looks like I’m free for dinner.”

“Great. I already discussed it with your father, and he’s free, as well. I’ll send you over the time and place.” He pushed to his feet.

Sebastian Wayburn was my boss. I couldn’t exactly turn him down and say that I was making dinner for his star player instead.

“Sounds good.”

He closed the door, and I quickly dialed my father’s extension.

“This is John,” he said when he answered his phone, which always made me laugh.

“It’s your private extension, Dad, so of course, it’s you,” I chuckled.

“Well, I like people to know they’re getting who they’re looking for.” His voice was all tease. “What’s up, Ells bells? Did Sebastian tell you he wanted to speak to us both tonight over dinner?”

“Yes. What do you think that’s about?” I asked, chewing on the edge of my thumbnail.

“He said he wanted to discuss some things he observed at the scrimmage. But he also seems to have some concerns about Randall, and I’m not sure what that’s about.”

“I did wonder why Randall wasn’t included in the dinner, but hopefully, it’s nothing serious.” I cleared my throat.

“He’s definitely been more on edge since this last season ended. I mean, it comes with the territory. There’s more pressure coming off a winning season when all eyes are on us now. But he’s the last guy who should be feeling it, as the players and the coaching staff are typically the people who feel that pressure.” He paused, and I could tell he was taking a sip of his coffee because my father drank four to five cups of strong black coffee every day before noon. I didn’t know how the man got any sleep at night.

“You seem fine,” I said, teasing.

“Yeah, you know I love what I do. Coming off a winning season doesn’t make me feel pressure; it makes me feel excited to do it again,” he chuckled.

“You definitely handle pressure better than most,” I said, because it was true. My father was a strong man. He never complained. He just did whatever he needed to do for the people in his life.

“I was actually hoping to have dinner with you on our own this week. You’ve seemed a little distant since you got back to the city, and I wanted to make sure everything is going all right. I’ve always been able to tell when you’ve got something on your mind, and it seems like maybe you do.”

“Yes. I’m good. You don’t need to worry about me.” I sighed.

“You’re the only person I ever worry about. And you don’t need to be stoic with me. You know that, right? If there’s something bothering you, you can talk to me, Ells.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, a flashback from many years ago when I was drowning in grief after losing my mother, and my father forced me to talk about it. He dragged me out of bed and insisted I eat something after days of being down with what I thought was the flu. He said those exact words.

“You can talk to me, Ells.”

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