I look at her from across the table and enjoy how openly I can speak to her. There's something about her, maybe it's her soothing, mom-like voice. Moms are more compassionate, understanding, they are wiser, more grown up. They always have the right words for everything. Maybe it’s what makes her soeasy to talk to, or maybe it’s just Rachel and how down to earth and perfect she is.
“My dad was also diagnosed with cancer when I was three, so they really didn’t have a chance to try again, even if they wanted to. He made it through that, but then several years later the cancer came back, and he didn’t win that battle.”
She reaches her hand across the table to mine, gently rubbing her fingers over my knuckles. “I’m sorry you and your mom lost your dad…that’s terrible. My parents mean everything to me, and I couldn’t imagine losing them.”
I smile, enjoying every moment of this time with her. My phone keeps vibrating in my pocket, and I know it’s hook ups, booty calls, and the usual banter between my friends in group messages. Lots of talk about New Year’s and our upcoming games, but right now Rachel holds my complete attention. I watch the candlelight dance across her face highlighting all her gorgeous features and wondering how someone so perfect isn’t taken.
“Do you get much time to see your mom?”
“I try, but it can be tough. She gets it, though, and sometimes I think her social life is more hectic than mine. She’s always out with her girlfriends. Plus, she works long hours as a night manager at a local supermarket in my hometown. I hate that she works so much, especially so late at night. When I get drafted, my first paycheck is going to her so she can retire. Then I’m paying off her house and buying her an apartment in whatever city I end up in so she can visit, stay, and attend every game as much as she wants.”
“That’s sweet. I hope my son looks after me as much as you do.”
“You seem like an amazing mom, Rachel, so I know he will. Do you have some photos to show me of him?”
She unlocks her phone and hands it to me. “You can swipe through them; they are basically all of him.”
I take the phone and flick through the photos. He seems like one happy little boy, and it automatically makes me smile. Then I swipe a photo of them together, it’s a close-up photo and you can really see their similarities. “He looks like you in this photo,” I say. passing the phone back to her. “Where is his dad?”
“He’s went to a college in Chicago.”
“Does he see Sam?”
She shakes her head and studies the menu. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable talking about him, so I keep the conversation going.
“No, he signed his rights over to me fully, but we do keep in contact on social media. He comments on anything I put up of Sam, and he calls for his birthday and Christmas, but that’s generally about all. We get along fine, it’s just we were both so young, and I don’t blame him for accepting his scholarship. It’s not like we were in love or anything, and we certainly weren’t going to play house together.” She shrugs, her brown eyes focusing on mine. “Sam’s happy, I’m happy, and with the love and support of my friends and family, I have everything I need.”
“Do your friends help you much?”
“You have no idea.” She smiles. “Jade, Molly, and Trixie have been my friends since middle school. They've been there from the very beginning, supporting me through everything, even the birth; passing me ice to suck on and holding my hand. It could have been so easy for them to leave me behind, but they never did. They adore Sam and spoil him rotten; he's got them wrapped around his little finger, and he knows it. They even have permission to pick him up from his daycare if I’m running late—they really are the best.”
“Sounds like you have a great group of girlfriends.”
Liliana interrupts our chat to take our orders and fill our drinks, then disappears back into the kitchen.
“Speaking of friends, how are Christian and Shelby doing after everything?”
I sigh, debating whether to brush it off with my usual laughter or be honest, especially after what she just shared. As I meet her gaze across the table, I choose reality over deflection.
“Physically, Shelby is fine. When I tackled her, she ended up with some bruises, but the real issue is the nightmares. The poor thing just keeps reliving it. I've been woken up more nights than I can count to the sound of her screams.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
I continue. “She's getting better and has been talking to a counselor she saw back in Australia—the same one she's been seeing for a while when Justin attacked her the first time.”
“Wow, the poor thing, how terrible for her to go through that. Where was she when it happened back in Australia?”
“She was in her bedroom. Her family was at the movies or something.” I shake my head in disgust and my hand clamps into a fist at the thought of him trying to rape her. “He is a fucking freak,” I bite out a little too harshly, then let my composure fall back over me and take a breath. “But she's tough; I know she'll be fine. Christian is taking good care of her, and with time, she'll heal. As for Christian, he's doing well; he just needs to rest that shoulder. But now he's got one wicked battle scar story. Taking a bullet for the woman you love. Nothing earns more brownie points than that,” I say, letting my story end on a happy note.
“And Seth and Walsh?”
“Oh, please—they're fine, probably better than before. Seth tackled a gun-wielding maniac. Do you know how much street cred that gives him? If you thought he was intimidating before, just add that to his resume. And Walsh? He’s alwayshad the ladies throwing themselves at him; nothing's changed there.”
“What about you?”
I process the question, taking a sip of my drink and debating whether to go with a sarcastic remark or the more truthful response.
I sigh. “It was fucking scary.” I clear my throat when a lump forms. “I watched my best friend get shot, and it scared the hell out of me. My first instinct was to protect Shelby, so I just grabbed for her... but seeing that gun go off, aimed at my friend I'd known since childhood, was terrifying. I'm just thankful we all made it out alive because we had no real plan going in. Well—we hadkind ofa plan, but that was only because we thought he didn’t know who we were. Turns out, he knew everything and everyone. He had been watching all of us for weeks, waiting for the right time to take her.”
