Page 32 of Catching Our Moment
After a few heartbeats, with Dylan and Aaron discussing my epic comeback when this was behind us, Dylan suggested we get my stuff inside.
Ignoring his mom’s suggestion, Aaron said, “Mom ordered pizza. Do you all want some?”
Kelcie snapped out of it, holding the storm door to my new place open for us. “I figured you all may be hungry after driving. I put some cold beer in the fridge too.”
I stopped in the foyer and took in my new home as they stepped around me.
“What are you going to do about a car? Is Dylan giving you one to use?” She surveyed the fridge. “What do you want to drink? Soda, water, juice? You should probably avoid the beer while on concussion protocol.”
“Is there any flavored water?”
“No, sorry. I haven’t done much shopping yet.”
“Just water, then. As for the car”—I pointed at my shoulder—“I’m afraid I can’t drive right now. Between the concussion and waiting for my collarbone to heal, it’s a non-issue.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. I forgot. I think that falls under my Florence Nightingale routine.”
Yeah, and that wasn’t happening. I waved her off. “That’s what car services and my brother are for.”
My brother cleared his throat in protest.
She filled a glass from the water dispenser in the fridge and gestured to the stool by the island. “Pull up a chair. I got sausage and pepperoni from Lucia’s before remembering that you are on a strict diet. Is that okay? We could order a salad or something, and I can go pick it up.”
“Don’t you dare.” My mouth started salivating as soon as I caught a whiff of my favorite hometown pizza. I managed to scoot onto a stool and made grabby hands. “Gimme.” She handed me two slices on a paper plate as Aaron saddled up next to me with a slice of cheese.
He took a bite and maybe chewed twice before hitting me with football questions.
“Do you prefer running a corner route or on the inside? Did you think you should’ve gone to New England in the draft instead of Washington?” He grilled me about all things football, checking my knowledge while also gauging my opinion. Eventually, Dylan bowed out and took off, stating he’d be around the next day to clean up the front porch.
Aaron, the analyst, wasn’t giving up. “Why have your stats fallen in the last year? Are you afraid of being replaced?”
Kelcie, standing on the other side of the island, coughed on her beer. “Aaron. That’s rude.”
Luckily, I didn’t have a mouthful of food, or I might have choked.
“It’s true. His statistics?—”
I held up my hand as Kelcie opened her mouth to reprimand her son. “It’s fine. It’s a legit question. I get asked it every press conference,” I said to her.
I turned to Aaron and leaned forward on the counter, “I’m going to tell you what I tell the press. I always do my best on the field. Some seasons are better than others, but I will learn from last season and apply it to my training for this coming season.”
He cocked his head. “How?”
“Maybe you and I can discuss what you think I need to do later. We don’t want to bore your mom.”
“Oh, my mom has lots of opinions on what you should do. She?—”
Kelcie’s voice boomed as she grabbed his plate. “Okay. How about some dessert? Then it’s time for bed.”
Aaron jumped off his chair and followed his mom into the kitchen. “Mom, you should tell Shaw what you said to me about the game against New Orleans.”
Kelcie stood and cleaned up the counter, keeping her back to me. “I’m sure he has enough coaches telling him what to do. He doesn’t need our armchair advice.”
I leaned back in my chair, tempted to cross my arms over my chest until I remembered my bad shoulder. “I’d love to hear your thoughts—and Aaron’s too.”
She paused and then turned. “Well, as you suggested, let’s save that discussion for another day. I’m sure you’re tired and sore, and Aaron needs to get to bed as well.”
She handed Aaron a cookie, almost handfeeding it to him, then placed a few in front of the two of us—possibly to quiet us both.
