“Perfectly fine,” she replied serenely. “Because we’re not ashamed of you, sweetheart. And if the coaches or anyone else has a problem, they can stuff it up their asses.”
“Mother!” I mock-glared at her. “Such language. That issoinappropriate.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” She squinted out through the windshield. “Is that the Sheraton ahead of us? To the right?”
“It is. There’s a pull-through for valet and check-in.”
“Excellent.” Mom navigated us to the hotel’s front entrance, where a guy in a fancy uniform hustled forward to open the car doors and welcome us. Since Dad had come down with the team earlier in the week, we already had a suite waiting for us, on the same floor where the players were staying. We only had to stop at the front desk to pick up the key card my father had left for us.
“This is such a fun event,” Mom told me for about the tenth time as we rode the elevator. “There’s so much tension with the team and the coaching staff—all of the cadets, really—until the game, and then afterward, it’s a huge party—assuming Army wins, of course.”
“Well, I’m going to be celebrating no matter what because this marks the end of the college football season.” I grinned at my mom. “And that’s always a good day in my book.”
“I don’t know how you could grow up the way you did and not appreciate the game,” Mom remarked. The elevator doors opened, and we stepped into the corridor, turning left toward our suite.
“I think you’re missing the point. It’sbecauseof the way I grew up that I don’t love football. It always came first. From late July through December, we all ate, breathed, and lived the game, twenty-four/seven. Daddy was rarely home for meals, and when he was, all we talked about was the next game, or the injury report, or who was recruiting him for his next coaching job.” I stopped in front of our door. “And don’t even get me started on the revolving door of players coming in and out of our house.”
Mom frowned and opened the door. “Is that honestly how you feel, Will? I had no idea. I mean, I know you always joked about not liking football, but I didn’t know you had such real resentment.”
“Well, I do.” I wandered through the suite until I found the room with one queen-sized bed. I dropped my bag on a chair.
“I guess it’s a good thing that you never got tangled up with any of the very attractive football players that crossed your paths over the years, then.” Mom stood in the doorway, her coat over one arm. “I could never understand why you didn’t.” She paused. “Although it doesn’t seem to bother you that Dean is a football player.”
An image of Dean as I’d seen him last flashed into my mind in living color. We’d been hanging out regularly since our first walk to the Thayer. It was never anything special or elaborate; he’d show up at the front door and sweet-talk me into a walk, or he’d appear with some kind of food that he knew I couldn’t refuse. Sometimes we sat down in my parents’ finished basement, watching a movie and munching on popcorn. More than once, he’d appeared with his laptop and books, and we’d parked ourselves at the kitchen table while he caught up on homework.
But he’d been so focused on preparing for Navy and trying to get ahead in classwork since he’d miss a few days of academics with game travel, that he hadn’t come by in over a week. He’d texted me apologetically, and I had assured him that I understood.
Still, when my dad had forgotten his phone at home last Monday and Mom had asked me to run it over to the practice field, I’d jumped at the chance. I’d told myself it was just because I was restless and bored, but that didn’t explain why I’d found myself scanning the field as I’d walked the sideline toward my father.
Nor did it excuse the fact that I’d lingered after delivering the phone, wrapped up in my coat, watching as the guys ran plays. My patience was rewarded when a familiar figure jogged toward me. Dean removed his helmet, and my poor second-trimester sex-starved body wept with need.
He was flushed and sweaty despite the cold, his hair damp and his eyes incredibly bright in his ruddy face. But it was the way those eyes drank me in that made me go dizzy.
“Hi, Willow.” His voice was soft, an almost seductive caress.
“Hi, Dean,” I whispered my reply.
We were surrounded by coaches and his teammates, so we couldn’t say more than that. But it was enough, that single moment. Something had changed between us, something subtle but essential.
“Willow?” My mom’s head was tilted as she regarded me. “Did you hear me? I said, it doesn’t seem to bother you that Dean’s a football player.”
“He’s my friend,” I answered simply. “Football is part of who he is. But we don’t talk about it—not really.”
“Hmmm.” Mom’s face was carefully neutral. “Whatdoyou talk about, the two of you? I’m curious. You seemed to have hit it off pretty quickly. I wondered what you found you had in common.”
I licked my lips, a little unnerved by my mother’s questions. “We talk about . . . I don’t know. Things that interest both of us. Movies, books, places we’ve been. What we want to do in the future.”
“Ah.” Mom nodded. “What have you told him about—” She motioned toward my bump. “The baby?”
“The truth.” I turned my back to my mother and busied myself with unzipping my bag. “He knows what happened, and he knows that I’m still making up my mind about what comes next. Sometimes I tell him my ideas, just to get his feedback.” I shrugged, shaking out a long-sleeved shirt before I reached for a hanger. “The thing about Dean is that he didn’t know me before. Not really. You and Dad did, of course. Todd did. And Vi and Cindy—” I stopped speaking. The memory of the disastrous phone call when I’d broken the news of my pregnancy to my two best friends was still painful, and I didn’t like to think about it. “Anyway, Dean is only familiar with the me from now.”
That was the truth. We’d only known each other in one very narrow but impactful sense before we’d reconnected at West Point.
“So it’s a relief to have someone in my life who doesn’t have all these expectations from before. I just . . . I like spending time with him.”
“I’m glad, honey.” Mom came into the room and wrapped her arms around me. “Glad that you and Dean have become friends. Daddy and I are doing our best to be supportive, but I know you must feel very isolated right now.”
“But not so much anymore.” I returned her hug. “Now, can we stop with the sappy talk and go find something to eat, please? I know it’s a shocker, but I’m hungry. Again.”
