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Pictures of the Sinclair siblings wearing three sets of matching red plaid pajamas on Christmas morning, in front of a Christmas tree that looks ten feet tall.
Pictures of Natalie dancing on stage. My girl looking gorgeous in a loose, flowing white costume. Her hair up in a tight bun. She is suspended midair in a perfect split.
Pictures of them at Declan’s high school graduation.
Across from the desk is a whiteboard with names listed. Some with lines through them, a few circled. Next to that is a flat-screen TV that is tuned in to ESPN but muted for now.
There are no trophies on these shelves. There are no framed articles about him winning Super Bowls or the Rose Bowl. No pictures of his own time playing in the pros. But his family is everywhere in this room.
There is a single, framed jersey leaning against the wall, still on the floor. It appears to be his only memorabilia from his days playing on the field, and this man is so unassuming that he hasn’t even bothered to hang it on his wall.
“Come in, son, and ignore Cooper. He and his brother have always loved to torture Natalie. He did manage to answer my first question, though, but I’d like to hear it from you. Are you dating my daughter, Brady?”
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair. We are dating.”
“Brady, I am giving you the benefit of the doubt here, son. You are a successful high school quarterback in your own right, and you’ve already signed your letter of intent for an Division 1 school. I also saw your friendship with Cooper long before Natalie moved here. But I need to say this, and I need you to listen, son. If I find out that you are using my daughter in any way. If you think that you being with my daughter can help your potential football career. If you hurt her, son, I will destroy you, and I have fixers at my disposal who would be happy to help me cover it up.”
Well, shit. How am I supposed to respond to that? “All due respect, sir, I know that we are young and that this is new, but I plan to be with your daughter for as long as she’ll let me. I’m hoping that is a long time, sir. I respect you, and I respect Cooper, but my relationship with Natalie has nothing to do with what either of you can do for me. You being her father has absolutely nothing to do with why I am with her. You have my word that I will protect her and take care of her. I have no intention of hurting your daughter, sir.”
“Okay, good answer Brady. One other thing. If you get her pregnant, I will rip your balls off with my bare hands and make you watch while I pop them like balloons. Understand?”
I think my balls crawled back up into my body at that vivid fucking description, but he got his point across. “Understood, sir.”
“Good. I’m glad we had this little chat. Now get some dinner and study hard. If you’re ever going to have a chance at keeping my daughter happy, you’d better not be dumb, son. A pretty face only goes so far.”
He’s smiling at me and laughing at himself. “And, stay the hell away from Murphy. That glitter won’t be gone by the game this weekend, and you don’t want to be on the weekend sports roundup looking like you just hugged a stripper.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Turning to leave, I take a deep breath and open the door. I’m not expecting Natalie to have her hand raised, ready to knock on the other side.
“Why do you look pale?”
“Nattie, honey.” Nat’s dad is calling over me now. “I think Brady just pictured something incredibly painful. Why don’t you get him some water? He’ll be fine.” He sounds like he’s enjoying my utter discomfort thoroughly.
Meanwhile, I am still imaging my balls popping. I shut the door behind me, and those big beautiful baby blue eyes look up at me.
“You okay, QB?”
Looking her over, I draw in a deep breath.
She has on a pair of navy blue school sweatpants and a tiny white t-shirt. Her hair is down around her shoulders, and her little diamond studs are twinkling in her ears.
“I’ve got you, right?”
She nods that gorgeous head of hers.
“Then, I’ve got everything I need, Nat.” Brushing her hair away from her face, I kiss the crown of her head. “Let’s get something to eat.”
For the next two hours, we work on chemistry and talk a little football. Eventually, Coach Sinclair joins us, and we all grill him about the upcoming game.
He hates that he’s missing our game this weekend, but it’s a Saturday afternoon game for us, and the Kings fly to Seattle Friday. I can’t help but be a little in awe of a father who cares about his kids so much that he tries to catch later flights than his team when he can, just so that he can watch his son play in a game.
I may not like what Joe Sinclair said to me tonight, but I respect the hell out of it. He’s already been to more of our games this season than my parents, who are as uninvolved as parents can get. I doubt my father even knows that Chloe dates girls more than guys. He certainly has no idea that I am dating Natalie.
When it’s time to go, Nat makes a big deal of walking me to my car. She goes as far as opening the door for me, so I lean against the seat and pull her to stand in between my legs. It’s one of those crisp, early fall nights. The stars are bright and lighting up the inky night sky. There’s a coolness in the air now. At some point in the night, my girl threw my Kroydon Prep hoodie on over her t-shirt, and my name is stretched across her back. I don’t think seeing my name on her will ever get old.
Smiling at that thought, I pull her closer. “What’s on your mind, Natalie?”
Tilting her head back, she bites down on her lower lip before answering. “What did my dad want earlier? I didn’t want to ask in front of the guys.”
