Well, that’s a shocker. I wonder why Tate has never mentioned this. Neither has Olivia. Or Grady.
“Jordan Garrison is signing on too,” Dad interjects. “And Landon Casco and his family.”
"He didn't mention it," I mutter. Landon is on Injury Reserve and not currently playing since he was diagnosed with leukemia at the end of last season. But he's still in contact with the team regularly, despite opting for treatment in San Francisco near his family. I text him a lot privately too because he's a good friend.
“I won’t do it,” Nash blurts out suddenly. “Dad, we’ve talked about this before. It’s not good for our brand. You said it. Stick to only sports publications and stations for interviews and never talk personal stuff. We don’t even have social media for that reason.”
“We’re not asking you two to take an active part,” Mom assures us. “But they will be filming your dad’s jersey retirement ceremony.”
“Fuck.”
“Nash!” I snap because for the golden robot boy to swear it’s a big deal, and this really isn’t. I mean sure, I don’t like it either, but it’s Mom and Dad’s decision and it’s not like Nash is featured. He’ll be in this one segment. “It’ll be one extra camera at an event filled with them. Stop being a bitch.”
“Really, Mr. Torchalicious?” Nash snarks and glares at me. “You think more cameras on you is a good idea. Imagine if they’d been filming this when your wife left you and you lit your house on fire.”
“Are you really fucking going there?” I bark. “Shut up!”
“Both of you stop. Now.” Dad’s voice is deep and hard. He’s not messing around. His dark eyes dart around the parking garage, which is empty except for the security guard down at the other end. “Never mind the winds, you two are never going to lead a team together if you snap like this other everything.”
“We weren’t going to say anything but I see no choice now,” Mom adds and her blue eyes are filled with worry. “Something’s changed between you two and I don’t like it. It hurts my heart to see you two like this.”
“I haven’t changed anything,” Nash says. “Not how I talk to him or what I say or what I do. He’s different and I don’t know why.”
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. I will not get into this here. And not now, with Mom and Dad. And I just kind of had a grenade lobbed at this thing with Olivia/Shelby/Grady and I need to figure out how to clean up the mess. So I just want to extract myself from this as soon as possible so I can think.
“I’m cool with being on camera a little for this thing you’re doing Mom,” I say and lean in and kiss her cheek. I hug my dad briefly and nod at Nash, trying not to scowl as I do it. “Sorry. I really need to get home. Let’s talk more tomorrow.”
“See?” I hear Nash say like a whining child as I slide into the driver’s seat. I punch theStart Enginebutton to drown out anything else he might say about me.
Nash doesn’t know why I’m pissed off at him? For real? He’s the biggest over-thinker I know and he couldn’t piece this mystery together? I think deep down Nash knows why I’m angry and he feels too guilty to admit it. I mean what would that conversation even be?
Me: Hey so I know you know I’m bi and you haven’t said a word about it.
Nash: Yeah well it was either tell you I think you’re disgusting or keep quiet.
Me: Thought so. Thanks for being honest. Been nice knowing you. I’m asking for a trade now, from this team and from this family. Bye.
I do not have the time or emotional energy for that right now. I have to figure out what to do about both Olivia and Grady thinking I want Shelby. That’s not a misunderstanding I can let simmer because, even though they’re both supposed to be nothing but bed buddies, I don’t want them hurt. And then there’s the fact that they’re both related and don’t know about each other.
Sigh. How did my uncomplicated life get so complicated?
Chapter19
Liv
“You’re different.”
“Stop.”
“No. You are!”
I don’t want to look my mother in the eye but I know I have to because if I don’t it’s a sign of weakness. She’ll take that as proof she’s right and then she’ll dig and dig until she uncovers the truth. And I have too many secrets to even begin to worry about which one she’ll unearth.
“I’m happy Mom. I’m content. Isn’t that all you’re supposed to care about as a parent?” I ask and lock eyes with her. Even I have to admit sometimes it’s like looking in a mirror. Same feeling when I look at Mayhem, only it’s a fun house mirror that makes me taller and leaner and giddy about hundred-mile-an-hour black rubber discs flying at my face.
Now Mayhem is pretending not to listen to us as I putter around the kitchen making breakfast. Mom watches from a bar stool at the peninsula and Mayhem sits in the swinging chair Tenley insisted on putting in the corner of the dining room reading a book.
“I do care about that. I also care about the why,” Mom replies and suddenly puts down her coffee and lifts her hair off her neck, swearing like a trucker under her breath. “Hot flash. They’re trying to kill me.”
