Page 3 of The Do-Over

One thing Billy loved about his oldest brother was that he didn’t offer advice unless asked for it. Even then, he rarely weighed in.

“I don’t fucking know.” Billy rubbed the back of his neck.

“Have you talked it over with Jenna?”

“Not yet. I will.”

He knew he should talk to her, had been telling himself that. But things were really good with Jenna right now, and this bombshell possibility might mess up everything. He sighed again. “There’s another problem.”

“Something quick or something that’ll make this turkey go cold?”

“It’s complicated,” Billy admitted. “The Japanese team wants me, but they want to make sure they aren’t getting the old Billy.”

“Ohh, the old Billy. The one who used to close down every club in Minneapolis. What did they call you? Billy Club?”

“To be fair, Minneapolis has some great clubs. It’s the Prince effect.”

Thomas gestured toward the door, and Billy picked up the roasting pan. “Aren’t we supposed to put this on a platter or something? What are we, barbarians?”

“At heart, yes. But you have a point.”

Thomas grabbed a large oval platter from a cabinet and placed it next to the roasting pan. They gazed down at the turkey. “I guess it’s too late for it to get itself on the platter,” said Thomas.

Billy assessed the glistening bird. “I have a spectacularly low dropped ball percentage. Also, I washed my hands right before we sat down.”

“Then go for it.”

Billy picked up the bird and plopped it onto the platter in one smooth motion.

“And Cooper shows off that touch that has baseball aficionados swooning,” said Thomas in his best radio announcer voice. “Doesn’t miss a beat as he puts that bird right where he wants it. Quick, too. With Cooper, it’s all about speed and precision.”

Billy flipped him the bird—so to speak. “Shut the fuck up. I’ve got more than speed going for me. I’ve got stamina too.”

“Tell it to the ladies. Not the ones out there,” Thomas said quickly, shooting a glance toward the dining room, where laughter and chatter rose and fell. “They’re taken. But there’s got to be a zillion women out there in those clubs who want to hear about your stamina.”

For some reason, Thomas’ teasing gave Billy a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t been to a club in two years. That was also approximately when he’d stopped drinking. Some of his earliest memories were of bringing his mother a beer from the fridge. When he’d stopped drinking, going cold turkey, so to speak, he’d missed her, not the buzz. Which had caused him to think long and hard about his screwed-up childhood.

“You know I’m not that guy anymore.”

But Carly was calling to them from the dining room, reminding them to bring the gravy along with the turkey, and Thomas’ attention was no longer on Billy and his problems.

How many people really got it that he wasn’t that guy anymore? The Japanese scouts weren’t sure. Some fans still called him Billy Club. And Jenna…

The doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Jenna,” Billy said.

“I’ll take the turkey. You get the door. Make sure Jenna knows we’d love to have her stay.”

As Thomas whisked the turkey-laden platter toward the dining room, Billy headed the other way, through the arched opening that led to the entryway and the front door. His gut tightened the way it always did when he knew he was going to see Jenna. So many emotions always flooded through him, or at least tried to. Luckily, he was an expert at constructing a dam to keep them back.

“Hey, Jenna,” he said with all the casual ease that he’d cultivated for the last three years. He’d perfected a certain way of looking at her, sort of blurring his gaze so he didn’t pick up too many details. It was easier that way, because he still found her attractive. She wore her blond hair in a low ponytail, but it was so fine that half of it was falling out. That happened a lot, because she was always rushing around. Her lake-gray eyes almost always held a smile, but right now she looked tired. Still beautiful, though.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” He peered past her. “Where are the boys?”

“They both conked out in the car. You weren’t answering your texts.”

He checked his phone and saw that he’d accidentally hit the mute button. “Sorry.”

---