“Mmm.”
That sound contained years of maternal skepticism.
I pointed at her. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you know stuff.”
She blinked. “I don’t know anything,” she remonstrated. “I just know my son.” She tilted her head, a gesture I knew so well. “And something about you feels… different.”
For a moment, I couldn’t think of a single safe response.
Because she was right. Iwasdifferent.
I hadn’t completely transformed overnight. I hadn’t become another person.
But everything felt clearer now, not because I suddenly had all the answers, but because I’d finally stopped arguing with the ones I already had.
Mom watched me carefully for a second, her eyes growing more thoughtful.
“You seem happier.”
The simple honesty of it derailed me.
I looked down at the table. The smile arrived before I could stop it.
Apparently I wasn’t nearly as subtle as I’d thought because Mom noticed instantly.
Of course she did.
She squeezed my hand again. “Well, whoever or whatever is responsible for that look on your face…” She smiled. “I think I’m grateful to them.”
The roughness in her voice told me more than the words had.
I squeezed her hand back.
God, I was glad she was here.
Luka
The second summonscame less than three hours after the first.
This time no liaison approached me publicly. There was no polite request, only a message waiting on my phone when I went to the locker room after practice.
Conference Room B. Immediately.
No signature, no explanation.
For a moment I simply stared at the screen. My stomach dropped.
The first meeting had been bad enough. A second meant they were not finished.
Questions clamored until I couldn’t think straight.
What have they found?
Who has spoken to them?
