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“I did, she’s not picking up.”
“Maybe we can go see her next week?”
“Really? That’d be great, Jack.”
“Sweet, we’ll work out a day later. For now, you need to get your head in the game, ’cause we have the Pissants to beat.”
“Peasants, Jack. Pilker Peasants. Maybe you should try and remember that as they’re coming back to the house after to wash up and share a meal.”
“Yeah, maybe. Be good when the rec center is done, then we can do all that stuff inside and not have them invade our place.”
“Sure.” Piper looked at the footings that were being laid beside the courts. Joe’s pet project was coming to fruition. He’d worked hard to get that passed, and plenty had opposed him, but he’d won in the end. “But for now, be nice.”
The courts were crowded as they pulled up. It was a loosely organized comp that had six teams who rotated game times and places. Due to the travel, players often stayed over, but the Peasants were only a three-hour drive, so they’d leave after a meal.
There weren’t many games left, as it was already cold and the rec center wouldn’t be finished in time for the winter season.
Piper only filled in when the numbers were down. She couldn’t play regularly because she was usually working.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“Who?” Piper searched the people milling around and found who Jack was talking about.
“Dylan Howard.”
Chapter 14
“Come on, Dylan, I know you play, because we did in school.”
“Are you really short a player, or just trying to get me on the court so you can rough me up?” Dylan looked at the park ranger who was standing beside Joe Trainer. Both were dressed in shorts and basketball jerseys.
He’d come out for a jog, nothing too taxing, a simple loop around town following the river, and he’d been ready to head back to the house when Joe Trainer pulled up beside him.
“Okay sure, the roughing up will be a bonus, but we are short a player.”
“You don’t have to, Dylan, if you’re not used to this kind of thing anymore. I mean let’s face it, you being a city boy now and all, this could be quite hard on you,” Joe said with a straight face.
“I’m an adult, Trainer, I don’t let that shit goad me anymore like it once did.”
“Sure you do, you still have that vein right there.” Joe pointed to his neck, and Dylan resisted the urge to place his hand there. No one had made that vein pulse since he’d left Ryker... or at least not that he’d noticed.
“It was always a barometer for your moods, bud.”
“Maybe he’s just soft now, Joe. It happens, I hear, when you don’t get regular exercise. Hell, look at that fat hanging over the waistband of his shorts.”
“I ran here,” Dylan drawled, “after using the weights in my dad’s garage.” He didn’t need to defend himself, anyone could see he wasn’t carrying any spare fat. He kept in shape, needed to, to keep his mind sharp and fit for the long hours he sometimes pulled at work.
“Pfft,” Fin said. “Weights and a jog. My grandma can do that.”
Dylan was not about to let these two know he was enjoying himself. He didn’t do this stuff in New York. Okay, he had a few people he loosely termed friends, and even played basketball weekly, but nothing like this. No one teased Dylan, or came at him, because most were colleagues who respected, and yes he could admit it, feared him a bit. He could be an asshole when required, and had heard people say he was as warm as a polar blast.
He’d been back in Ryker longer than planned and still hadn’t made plans to leave. This, he’d told himself, was due to his father still being in hospital, Charlie, and Ava. And they were all legitimate reasons, but there was another one too. He didn’t want to leave. It was that simple. Coming here was giving him time to reflect on his life and the man he’d become.
“Yeah, but it’s all good, Dylan. Don’t worry about it. You go on and sit on the seats. I’ll get the knee blanket Aunty Kitty knitted for me out of my car.”
“Fuck you, Trainer, and I know for a fact you don’t have an Aunty Kitty.”
“Ouch,” his old friend said, smiling.
