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“Better than I ever could have hoped for,” I said. “I feel welcome there. Everyone is so friendly. And smart. I’m learning so much from the other faculty.”
“Even though you and Eric broke up?” Mom cut in.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, even after the break up. It’s a university, not a high school. There’s not as much drama as you think.”
“What I think is that you should have stayed with that man,” she went on. “He was so distinguished! I wish we had visited you in the city so I could have met him. Is he still single?”
“I doubt he would be interested in someone your age,” my dad teased.
Mom rolled her eyes. “For her. It’s not too late, you know.”
“Actually… I’m already seeing someone.”
Both of them whipped their heads toward me. “Good for you!” my dad said at the same time my mom said, “Who?”
I glanced at the television. Should I tell them the truth? Mom was kind of a gossip, but she might be able to keep it to herself if I impressed upon her the importance of secrecy.
“His name is… Carter,” I said. “He works in the receiving department for a huge company in Salt Lake City.”
I smiled internally at the joke, and how I was re-using the half-truth Brody had told me the first night we met.
“Receiving… like, in a warehouse?” Dad asked.
“You need someone who can support you financially,” Mom insisted.
“Trust me, that won’t be a problem,” I replied.
“Why?” Mom asked. “Is he a manager?”
On the television, the Stallions broke out with a big offensive play. Brody’s familiar shape stiff-armed a defender, then glided easily into the end zone for a touchdown.
“YES!” I said.
Brody did a little celebration in the end zone. He pretended like the football was a grenade by pulling an imaginary pin from it, then hurling it at some of his teammates. All of them jumped back in the air like an explosion had gone off.
“I don’t like him,” Dad suddenly said. “Cocky Texas boy. Back in the good days of football, you didn’t prance around like a ballerina when you scored.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “They’re just having some fun.”
“I like him,” Mom said. “He’s so cute.”
“Cute doesn’t win ball games,” Dad grumbled.
As Brody jogged off the field, the camera crew followed him. He was wearing long sleeves, one of which he tugged down to reveal the leather wristband I had given him. He flashed it for the camera, grinning behind his face mask. The letters weren’t facing the camera, but that was okay. Because I knew what they said.
My heart sang at the sight of him flashing it, no matter what my parents thought of him.
