Page 55 of Playing for Keeps

But the look on mom’s face tells it all.

“This is Chloe Smith.” I throw a hand in the direction of my parents who are now standing. “Meet my Mom and Dad.”

Chloe puts out a hand to shake, her smile still wide. “I’m so pleased to meet you. You have to be extremely proud of your son.”

My mom goes cold, staring at Chloe without a smile, but my Dad takes her hand and makes up for Mom with a warm greeting.

“We are. He’s told us you’re special to him.” He leaves it at that, not mentioning that I’ve hardly told him anything about her. Especially not the one key fact that she’s a fucking reporter.

Chloe wraps an arm around mine, leaning into me, looking giddy with pleasure and oblivious to my mother’s silence. Maybe she thinks my mom is shy. Too bad she’s not.

“Too bad it’s such a late game or we could go to dinner and get to know you better,” Dad says. He tries to cover for my mother. We both know she’s protective of me, same as I’m protective of her. The big surprise is that I’m feeling protective of Chloe right now, needing to protect her from my mother’s bias against her.

“Did you say you work for a studio?” Mom says, her voice low and full of consternation.

Chloe blushes and says, “Yes I’m a sports broadcaster.” Before I can stop her, before I can think of something diverting to say. My mother’s intake of breath is sharp and unmistakable.

Her voices rises an octave and she says, “You’re a reporter?” Mom flashes me an accusing glance and Chloe looks between us, going from puzzled to dawning realization as Dad clears his throat.

“That’s right mom. What are the odds?” I wait a beat for her to take in the fact that I’m okay with it, forcing her to hold back. But I know mom is a decent woman at heart and she’s not about to be mean to a stranger even if she is a sports reporter, especially since I’ve made it clear that Chloe is no stranger to me.

“Chloe is very special. Her father was a sports reporter too,” I say. “He’s recently passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mom says.

Dad says, “Smith? You don’t mean your father was Oscar Smith?”

“Yes. Did you know him?” Chloe says, bright with hope.

“No, but I knew of him. Watched his broadcasts all the time—enjoyed the heck out of him. He was quite a character.” Dad’s won Chloe’s heart forever. I can tell by the way she looks at him and the sad cast that always comes over her face when she remembers him.

“He was a wonderful character—and wonderful father.”

The room’s emptying out and it’s time to go, so we all walk out together, mom remaining stoic until I give Chloe a short sweet kiss good night. I’m not ready to upset my mother with a flagrant PDA, not with the kind of kiss I want to give Chloe.

After we leave to go back to my condo, Mom gives me a lecture and warning from the back seat of my car about Chloe using me.

“I knows all about it, Mom. I’ve been careful. She’s trustworthy, I swear to you. We have… something.”

In spite of Chloe’s wish for her donation to my foundation to remain anonymous, I break the confidence and tell Mom and dad about the ten thousand dollar donation Chloe made to Frank’s Foundation.

“Guilt money,” Mom says. And she’s not far off the mark, but I explain.

“In a way,” I say. “It was to make up for the reporters at the funeral. She made the donation shortly after she saw the clip when she was doing background research.”

It’s dad who asks, “Why is she doing background research on you?”

I shrug. It’s a good question and I take for granted that she has something up her sleeve, I’ve been living with the knowledge since the moment I met her, waiting for the other shoe to drop so that I’ve almost forgotten there’s something brewing, obviously on her back burner.

“Probably some exposé of some kind, but don’t worry. There’s nothing to tell that hasn’t already been out there.” That’s not entirely true since there’s been nothing but rumors about my back in the news and she knows about it. She knows everything that’s been well hidden in the Militia’s vault of silence impervious to all media inquiry. None of the training or medical staff are allowed to talk to the press on threat of immediate dismissal.

But still, there’s nothing to the back injury. It’s a minor injury that’ll be history in a few weeks. There’s nothing to the rumors about it being season ending and she knows it. Or at least I think she does.

“Of course I’m going to worry, Tate,” Mom says. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?”

I smile at her in the rear view and we put the discussion aside.

But uneasiness brews inside me even as we talk about the game and the restaurant and long after I go to bed lying awake almost until dawn.