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Oliver raises his eyebrows. “You’d punch me for that? I was there for you when she died, Alec. And I came after your injury. And I came when you got in your car accident. Maybe I’ve earned the right to say my piece here.” He turns back to look out at the lake again.
I’m at war in my head and I know he’s right. I don’t say anything, just turn, too, so I can stare out at the never-ending blue of the lake.
“And by the way, I’ll never tell you to get over it already.” Oliver swears under his breath. “Nobody can just get over stuff like that. That’s not how it works.” He points up to the sky overhead at a pelican, its brilliant orange beak holding a fish. “Wow!” Some of the highly charged feelings dissipate. “I’m not going to bring up my opinions on this right now,” he says. “But when you’re ready to hear them, let me know.”
I snort, “Will do.” That does not sound good. But I soften. “Youhavebeen there when I’ve needed you. I appreciate it.”
“Keep doing those exercises Oakley’s given you because we need to play basketball soon. You gotta get ready for our game at Christmas,” Oliver says.
Christmas. Still six months away. “Might be a good goal to aim for. I could maybe hobble along and shoot a basket or two.” I missed last Christmas’s Tate brothers’ three on three game last year and that was a very bitter moment.
“We’ll all only get a basket or two with Sebastian on the court,” Oliver says. Sebastian’s a big ball hog, but he taught us all the game. Before I split off and devoted my life to football, I played hours of basketball a day, thanks to Sebastian’s mentoring.
My gut burns again at the memory of watching them on the sidelines at our parents’ house in Denver, my crutches on the bench next to me. I was a sorry sack of bones, about as upbeat as Eeyore at a funeral. That was around the time I quit meditating. All those affirmations the team psychologist and I came up with? Out the window.
I should probably dust a few of those off again.
“I gotta go back inside,” Oliver says.
“I’ll head home,” I glance down at the paper sack with the food from the hotel eatery.
“Yeah, you will,” Oliver says, a gleam in his eye. Of course Oliver knows that’s where Oakley will be.
I move to whomp him and he squeals. “You sound like a little girl,” I tell him. “Every time!”
My insult does little to quell Oliver’s squealing, but we scuffle and he gets the upper hand, pinning my arm to my side. “Could a little girl put you in a sleeper hold like this, huh?” he says in my face, his mouth open in a grin. We’re breathing heavy. If Sebastian saw this little display of immaturity on the resort premises, he’d go off.
“I see how it is,” I challenge. “You take the injured guy down.”
“It’s your knee that’s injured, not the arm!” Oliver counters. “Besides, you started it. This is self-defense!”
“You were bringing up Oakley. Making light of this situation.”
His face shows faux shock. “I never said her name.”
“You didn’t have to,” I counter. We both start laughing, and it’s awhile until we can stop, the adrenaline from the physical fighting coursing through my veins.
Once Oliver catches his breath, he starts in with the questions again. “How’s being the CEO of Fun?”
“That’s not the title of my job, but it’s going fine. You were in the meeting the other day.”
“Yeah. I’m not asking about the specifics. How do you feel about things?”
I lift a shoulder. “It’s better than sitting around.”
He nods a few times and shifts in his stance, his hands in his pockets. “Thought anymore about trying to attract injured players?”
“If you want me to reach out to my old buddies in the league who’ve gotten hurt, that’s not happening, Oliver.”
“Why not?” He could easily get upset with me, but he’s not. Just watching me, searching my expression.
“I don’t keep in touch with most of the guys.”
“That’s fine. But at some point, it would be nice to start bringing people in. Oakley needs to be helping with injuries.”
He doesn’t know Oakley like I do. So why is he so perceptive all the sudden?
I just nod and tell him I’d better go. The bag of pastries and quiches feels heavy in my hand.
