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“Yes or no? She’s waiting on an answer. You can say no; she’ll
just meet me, but I figured that maybe you didn’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to be by yourself.”
“That’s sweet, Brayden, but meeting your mom?” Her brows pull together with uncertainty.
“It wouldn’t be like that. Just someone to spend the day with.”
“You don’t want to spend Thanksgiving with her?”
“Rather you have someone to spend it with.”
She nods. “Okay then.”
I unmute the phone and try to figure out how to tell this to my mom. “Mom?”
“I’m still here. Are you with someone or something? What’s going on? I thought you were at home.”
“I am. A girl is with me, though.”
Mom gasps. “A girl?”
“Mom, my point is that I wanted to ask if you wanted to have Thanksgiving with her instead? She would be spending Thanksgiving alone otherwise.”
“Absolutely!” Mom hurries to answer. “But why can’t we both fly up to see you and eat together?”
“Oh, yeah. That’ll work. I’ll email the details once I have them. Can I get some sleep now?”
“Yes. I feel better knowing what we’re doing. I can’t wait to meet this girl of yours.”
“She’s not mine,” I correct. “Night, Mom.” To Deanna as I put my phone away, I say, “Do you have a passport?”
“Yes, though I’ve never used it. I was planning to go on a cruise with some friends, but then my grandma died. Anyway, the answer is yes.”
“Good. I’m flying you both to Canada. Keep any comments or objections for morning. I’m fucking tired.”
I’m ridiculously satisfied when she relaxes against me and falls asleep a few minutes later.
In the morning, my alarm goes off extra early. I quickly turn it off. Deanna rolls over, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip out of bed without disturbing her. Otis lifts his head, but I rub him behind the ears, and whisper, “Go back to sleep.” An early morning run is always called for after a loss. At least for this one. I need to clear my head.
First, apparently, Deanna, Mom, and I are having dinner together the night before Thanksgiving in Canada. We actually have a game on Thanksgiving Day. That should be interesting. I need to call my travel agent and have her get everything booked for me. I’m sure I’ll have to field questions from my mom between now and then about Deanna. We’ll have to talk at some point, so I can set her straight and she can have realistic expectations. She sounded entirely too excited on the phone last night.
Secondly, more than ever, it’s clear that I should be a better teammate and leader. How to fix that? I’m not sure. Do more things like I did with Collin. Change my personality to at least appear friendlier and approachable. I don’t know how to fucking do that, though.
“Brayden?”
I pause the treadmill, turn around, and see Deanna. Her eyes are squinted and she rubs one of them. Now that she’s no longer underneath the covers, I can see that the shirt she’s wearing is one of my Carolina Rebels T-shirts. That makes sense; she didn’t come over with plans to stay. She’s looks fucking hot too.
“What are you doing?”
“Morning run,” I answer.
“Why?”
“Why are you up?” I ask her, opting out of explaining my routines.
“I went to cuddle with you, but was met with a wet nose.”
I laugh as I imagine her rolling over and running into Otis. “I’m sorry.”
