Unfazed—though, in reality, she is never fazed—Danielle continues. “I shouldn’t have to explain why she shouldbe allowed to play, but because you seem blind to the obvious, I’m going to lay it out for you, Pops.”
She pauses briefly and I hold my breath.
“First of all, the girl is allowed to make her own mistakes, which you know quite well from what happened in May and how you handled it afterward. Sure, you could’ve taken out a loan or deferred Liv’s tuition or even let us set up a Kickstarter, for God’s sake, but you didn’t want her to return to Windsor Prep for a reason: to teach her accountability for her mistakes. Correct? You allowed her to have real-world consequences for her actions. Why is this any different?”
My gut twists—I don’t want Grey to hear this, even if it’s basically stuff he already knows. But he’s listening like his life depends on it. When my dad stays silent, Danielle shifts to round two.
“Liv made a decision. A much smarter decision than last time, obviously”—I wince—“and hadsuccess. She scored three touchdowns in a football game, against boys twice her size. Boys who have been playing for years. Boys who were extra motivated to kick her ass the second she put on a helmet. She’s a freaking Disney movie, Dad.”
I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face. Holy shit, I am a Disney movie.
By the time she finishes, Danielle is breathing hard. Ryan fidgets more in his seat and pulls out his phone, holding it aloft over the salad bowl. “Want to see a video?”
Rather than accept the phone or acknowledge Danielle’s argument, Dad simply takes another long gulp of beer and looks to Grey.
“And what do you have to say?”
Grey doesn’t clear his throat. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t drop his grip on my hand. He just greets Dad’s challenge with the same confidence he has when throwing routes.
“Liv Rodinsky is the most natural quarterback I’ve ever seen in my life. You can blame me all you want for recruiting her, but the truth is that our team is better with her on it. I’m proud to play by her side.”
Dad’s lips flatten into a line. He’s still playing a hard-ass, but Mom’s face is so bright and cheery that he softens when she aims all that energy at him and places a hand on the meat of his shoulder. “Oh, come on, Eddy, how can you say no to that?”
He doesn’t respond. Still, hope rolls through my gut, my heart whisperingHail Mary.
We don’t talk about it for the rest of the dinner. Instead, Grey manages to visibly charm literally everyone at the table. Even maybe Dad.
He raves about Danielle’s enchiladas and asks for seconds.
He gamely answers Mom’s nosy questions about what product makes his hair curl like that.
He says yes to literally every topping my family has to offer during postdinner ice-cream sundaes.
He elbows in on Heather and does the dishes for her like a freaking champ.
And while we’re sitting down, watching the Sunday night Chiefs game, he gets Ryan going enough about Premier League soccer that they end up reenacting some botched play for Dad on the living room floor like complete oversugared goofballs.
Which leads Ryan to giving me shit for missing his first game of the season. But to be fair, it was literally all the way across town and started before football practice ended. I guess I won’t have that excuse anymore. Maybe.
When it’s grown dark and it’s clearly time for him to leave, I step out to the stoop with Grey, planning to walk him to the turn of the block. The night is still warm, but there’s a chill in the breeze, and without me even asking, he puts his arm around my shoulders as we hit the sidewalk.
I look up at him. “I have to say, that wasn’t the complete disaster I was expecting.”
“Complete disaster? There wasn’t even a whiff of disaster.” He winks. Because of course he does.
“Well, I don’t know, I was pretty worried when Danielle went all in on Dad right away. Definitely a whiff there for me.”
He waves a hand. “You worry too much, Rodinsky. From the second your sister opened her mouth, I knew it was going to be amazing.”
“Well, yeah. Sheisamazing.” I place a hand on hisstomach and we come to a stop, not yet to the corner. The trees wave in the breeze, and the moonlight flashes across his face as I palm his cheek. “But you were, too. Thanks for coming. Thanks for saying your piece. Thanks for fake side-tackling Ryan to the floorboards and making Dad laugh.”
And then I kiss him.
21
MONDAY MORNING, I WAKE UP TO MY LAPTOP ANDphone sitting on my desk. Not charged. No note. No suggestion that this means I can play football—just that my grounding is over.
I plug them in and they both light up like that one huge-ass Christmas light display in our old neighborhood.
