Page 49 of Delay of Game
She nodded, brown curls bouncing. “We’re sitting with Cassie and Cece. Lena isn’t going though. She says Kalani doesn’t like all that noise.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “Well, that sounds like a fun crowd for the game. And you get to watch from new seats.”
I posited the new seats like an upgrade, and they were. Between Diego’s girlfriend grabbing national attention last season and Mila inserting herself into a fight with fans from an opposing team, the coaching staff and management agreed that some separation between family and fans might cool things down with the local gossip columns.
Mila scrunched her nose. “I don’t want new seats.”
“Too bad.” I ruffled her hair. “And it doesn’t matter where you sit, you’ll have fun.”
“I will. Cece always buys me lots of ice cream,” Mila said off-handedly. Her face turned white, and her mouth dropped. “Oh no. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
I shook my head, setting her on the floor while I peeled myself out of bed. “Yeah, I figured. Cece doesn’t strike me as a rule follower.”
“She gave me three ice creams once,” she divulged. “But it was very hot.”
“Let’s limit it to two, okay? Three’s out of control. I can’t play football and worry that you’re downing buckets of ice cream.”
Mila nodded as she skipped out of the room. I grabbed my phone and shot Lena a message to let her ex-roommate know Mila had a strict two ice cream limit.
With that accomplished, I blew off my morning stretches to follow the scent of coffee. After a shitty night of sleep, no amount of stretching would fix me, but a strong cup of black coffee might.
“Oh, you’re down early!” Mom jolted as I stalked into the kitchen.
I swiped a mug off the counter and filled it to the top. “Yep.”
She piled eggs and bacon on a plate and handed it to me. “Ready for the game?”
I shrugged. The thrill and anticipation that came with playing football faded somewhere along the way in the past three decades. At least in school, I’d had new challenges. New divisions, new rings, new bowls. Twelve years in the NFL, and I’d played all these teams a dozen times or more. Even the off season lost its luster. Short of a Super Bowl, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that heady mixture of fear and hope on the football field.
But I sure as hell felt it the night before.
Astrid stayed for dinner. How could she not? Mom insisted, and then Mila got involved. We’d cleaned up the pottery studio in relative silence. Her, probably regretting we’d gone there in the first place. Me, definitely regretting it. She was barely out of college, childless, and optimistic. Even if I didn’t run her off, I’d ruin her.
“Are you keeping Mila for the whole game, or should I ask Cassie to bring her to me after?” I asked, before taking a bite of eggs.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Mom said, flipping a mouse-shaped pancake. “I gave Gracie my ticket. She said she’s happy to watch Mila during the game, and Cassie volunteered to show her the ropes.”
I startled, dropping my fork with a clatter on the plate. “What?”
“She’s never been to an NFL game. Isn’t that funny? She’s lived in Norwalk since before the team came to town, and she’s never seen an actual game in person. Not even pre-season or an exhibition.”
“When did you decide that?” I asked, shoving a piece of bacon into my mouth to mask my unease.
Even without the nerves, game days left me emotionally charged and volatile. I played my best when I ran onto the field angry, with a chip on my shoulder. Remembering the times I’dbeen passed over my better teams. The times I’d been cut from a roster. The games I’d lost. I didn’t need what had happened outside the pottery studio mixed up in that.
My plan was simple: get through the weekend, show back up at her place on Tuesday, and act as if nothing had ever happened between us. Keep her at a distance and keep our relationship one hundred percent friendly.
I hadn’t factored in seeing her after the game.
“My hip has been bothering me since that hike last weekend. Gracie and I went into the studio after dinner and got to talking. I hate to admit it but giving Gracie my ticket was the perfect opportunity to get out of going to the game.”
“You have box seats, and they let you park right by the stadium. It’s practically no walking at all,” I argued. A futile argument. What the hell was Mom going to do? Call up Astrid and tell her she changed her mind? Not a chance. “Besides, she’s probably sick of Mila after a week of school.”
Mom batted her hand in my direction with a sigh. “Hardly. They’re both excited. Watching the game together is a nice bonding activity.”
She emphasized bonding, and my throat tightened. “Teachers don’t need to bond with their students. Not outside of school, anyway.”
Mom rolled her eyes and flipped a pancake onto a pink plate. “Mila, honey, breakfast!”
