My arm twinges as I unlock my door and step inside, and I glance down at the bandages there. The scratches along my forearm still sting to an annoying degree, and more than ever I wish I could have stayed home tonight so I could have avoided the pain. And the distraction. I don’t need to start thinking about fiery women with demon cats any more than I need to make friends.
Who names their cat Beef Wellington? That’s what my mum makes when she wants to come across as more Australian and impress new neighbors. It’s not what you call a twenty-four-pound ball of fur and claws with no manners. The spitfire might not be Moxie’s type—he must be blind—but she’s more intriguing than she ought to be.
It’s a good thing I have no reason to see her again.
As I make my way into the kitchen, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who’s calling me this late.Mum.
Debating letting it go to voice mail, I hit the answer button. “Hey. You know it’s late here, yeah?”
“Oh, I forgot about the time difference! I’m sorry, Logan!” Mum’s voice is warm and smooth and one of my most favorite sounds on the planet. But I know why she’s calling, and this is not a conversation I want to have tonight. Not when I’m already testy.
“It’s fine.” Opening the fridge, I pretend for half a second that I have anything to eat, then grab a protein shake. I should go to bed, but I’m starving. The Thunder doesn’t have a nutritionist on staff like I’m used to, and while I can cook the basics, I’ve been spending my mornings trying to track down my birth mum instead of shopping, so my meals have been…lacking.
I reckon that’s why I’m in such a bad mood tonight.
“Well, I won’t keep you for long,” Mum says, “but I wanted to check in and see how things are going. Are you liking California? How’s the team?”
I hear her unspoken question:Have you found your parents yet?
Since any talk about my birth parents will only make my mood worse, I stick to the questions she asked out loud. “California is fine. The team’s fine.”
“You’re having a bad day.” It’s not a question.
This woman raised me, so of course she knows me well enough to judge my mood from a few words. But I wish she didn’t. “Nah, just a long one. Practices are later than I’m used to, but I’ll get in the swing of things soon.” Probably just in time for me to leave.
“Have you made any friends?”
I roll my eyes and settle on the sofa, wishing I’d been a worse son and not answered the phone. “The captain’s decent. You’d like him.”
“But doyoulike him?”
“I’m not seven anymore, Mum. I don’t need your help making friends.”
She hums, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was remembering my first rugby practice, when I stood in the corner of the pitch and talked to no one because I was overwhelmed by so many strangers. Mum arranged a play date of sorts with a few of my teammates, and thankfully I hit it off with them. We were on teams together for years, all the way until most of them went off to uni and I turned pro, but I’m sure we would have eventually bonded without her intervention.
Most likely.
“Logan,” she says, her tone chiding, “I know how hard it can be for you to settle into a new place. It’s okay if you’re strug—”
“I’m not.” It’s a lie. But if I tell her that I’m spending most of my time alone at home and actively avoiding my teammates because I don’t have the bandwidth for social interactions on top of looking for my birth mum, she’ll fly out here to put her motherly skills to use.
As much as I would love to see her, she needs to be home with my dad while he recovers.
“Mum, I’m glad you called, but I should—”
“Are you eating enough, Logie?”
I glance at the protein shake in my hand, and I swear the woman has an extra sense, one that tells her when I’m not takingcare of myself. “Yeah?” It comes out almost like a question, and I wince at the insincerity in the word.
“Logan Richard Callahan, you know better than to lie to me.”
Sighing, I stretch my legs out along the sofa cushions. “I know. Sorry. I haven’t had much time for cooking.”
“But you need to keep up your strength if you want to stay in ship shape.”
A chuckle escapes me, temporarily relieving some of the tension in my body that never seems to go away lately. “I know, Mum. Better than you do. I’ll hunt down a meal service or something, yeah?” Preferably sooner than later, considering how tired I am of drinking these shakes to keep my protein intake where it should be.
“How’s Dad?” I ask to steer the subject away from me.
