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I’m so busy being a sentimental jackass that I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and smack right into Gage as I’m leaving the locker room.
Micah’s right beside him, with Dash looking around with wide eyes and gripping his dad’s shirt.
“How the hell did you guys get back here?”
Gage flicks at the laminated badge hanging from his neck. “Press pass.”
“Who’d you pay off to get one of those?”
“What difference does it make?” Micah growls and transfers his son to my arms. “Hold the kid for a minute. He’ll bring you good luck. Plus Tessie wanted a picture.”
Dash is a little prince in his green and white Cyclones jersey with my number, twenty-nine, splashed across the front. His shiny cap of black hair is neatly combed and he wears jeans and tiny green and white sneakers on his feet. Even though he can’t quite walk yet I bet he appreciates the style points.
Dash rattles off a loose string of sounds like he’s in the middle of telling an important story then shrieks with delight when I spin him around. Micah snaps a photo with his phone.
“Smile, goddammit,” my cousin orders.
“Your daddy’s cranky,” I tell Dash. “Tell your mommy to get him some nachos or something.”
Micah scowls. His eternally favorite expression. “Wasn’t talking to my son. I was talking to you.”
This time when I smile I show all my teeth. I probably look like a Halloween mask. Dash laughs. Micah’s scowl withers and he manages to grin before snapping another photo.
A couple of female reporters walk by and say, “AWWWW!”
Gage stands to the side with his phony press credentials and waits for the fuss to die down.
“The whole circus is here,” he finally says.
With reluctance, I hand Dash back to his father. “Who? I mean, besides Dani and Tess.”
“Alta and Matilda. Henley and Charlotte too.”
It’s possible my aunts don’t even know what a first down is. Aside from the name dropping aspect of having a pro football player for a nephew, they never took any interest in the sport. I wouldn’t exactly call them fans now but in the wake of my mother’s death they’ve started showing up sometimes.
Funny, how it’s only just occurred to me that my aunts and I have never talked about my mother. Sometimes I forget that Edie was their little sister and they must have gone through their own shit after her very public last act.
The sudden twinge below my right hip isn’t real. Just a phantom haunting the place where a bullet once struck.
“LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!”
Blood and screams and betrayal and death.
Not exactly a good place to send your mind minutes before a big game.
“Hey.” Micah frowns at me. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I force a grin and line my words with arrogance. “Just trying to guess the point spread for today’s victory. Bet on the lead being at least three touchdowns.”
My cousins exchange a glance. I can’t fool them. I shouldn’t even try.
This season doesn’t have the same feel as every other season. Ever since high school, football has been my motivation and my heart. But now my heart has another owner.
This morning I left some tickets at the box office, just in case Haven changed her mind and decided to show up. Tess promised she’d pass the message along.
Micah, naturally, guesses why I’m moping. “Tess talked to her on the drive over here.”
We all know who ‘her’ is. Well, maybe Dash doesn’t. He’s busy trying to chew on his father’s t-shirt.
