Just then, my phone goes off, breaking the silence. Mom’s contact lights up the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey. How are you doing?” mom asks. She’s been asking me that since I got benched. Not that she didn’t ask before, but it’s been more often since I got hurt. I think she thinks I’m going to spiral out of control, which to be fair, I kind of did the other day in the locker room before Ellie found me. Mom doesn’t need to know about that, though. She’ll just worry more, and I don’t want that for her. She’s been through enough, and she has her own shit to deal with.
“I’m good. Just about to head out for a meeting. You okay?”
“Of course. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately with your new team,” she says, her voice soft and motherly.
I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s been a lot but I’m fine. The team is shaping up, and my knee feels good,” I lie. I can practically feel her smile through the phone.
"Oh, honey. That’s great! You’ll be back to playing in no time, I just know it. You know, Denise says that doctor you saw in Boston had no idea what he was talking about. She’s super knowledgeable.”
Shaking my head, I slide my shoes on and grab my keys off the hook by the front door. “Mom, she thinks she can see the future. I don’t know how knowledgeable that is.”
“Jamie, you know what she said about your father. She was right!” mom exclaims. Denise, her best friend and neighbour is convinced she’s a psychic. She’s been filling moms head with crap for years. I’ve tried to tell her that it’s all bullshit, but she won’t have it. I think she likes believing that someone can see what’s going to happen.
“He had cancer, mom. We all knew he wasn’t going to make it. We didn’t need a psychic to tell us that,” I say as I slide into my car and turn it on.
“Well, either way. I know you’ll be okay. You’re getting better every day. Now, have you met any nice girls up at that fancy college?” she changes the subject so abruptly I get whiplash. In almost every phone call, mom will ask if I’ve met someone, and in every phone call I tell her no. In all fairness, the answer usually is no. However, the answer is more complicated now. Because, no, technically I haven’t met anyone. But I have been thinking about one girl in particular.
My mom loved Ellie, and she was devastated when I left her. She told me I was losing out on one of the best things that would ever happen to me. Back then, I thought the best thing that could happen for me was going pro. Now, I’m not so sure, because that’s gone too.
Mom would probably be ecstatic that Ellie’s here, but there’s not much to tell her. Ellie seems like she would rather be anywhere else whenever we’re in the same room, but I can tell there’s a part of her that’s affected by my presence. It may be a really small part of her, but it’s there.
Shaking my head, I say, “no, mom. I have not met any girls.”
Mom sighs on the other end. “You know, I would like grandkids someday.”
I choke on air. I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I haven’t really put any thought to having kids or a family. I’ve been on my own for so long, and I kind of figured I would be forever. Except now with Ellie, I don’t think I want to be alone anymore. Jesus, who the fuck am I?
Pulling into the parking lot in front of the hockey arena, auditorium, and tennis court, I end the conversation with mom by telling her I was late for a meeting, and I’d talk to her later. Thankfully, I’m not actually late because Ellie would probably kick my ass.
Before getting out of the car, I take a deep breath and try to focus on the purpose of today’s meeting instead of the recurring images of my imagination last night. The last thing I need is to get a boner while I’m trying to discuss business.
Well, here goes nothing.
Chapter 20
Ellie
Icheck my phone for the tenth time in a row. I swear to God, if Jamie is late, I’ll kick his ass. He assured me he’d be here on time, and he has ten minutes to make sure that happens. I’d like to get this meeting over and done with so I can focus on the play. Not only that, but I don’t want to be stuck alone in a room with Jamie longer than I have to.
Just then, the auditorium door opens and Jamie strolls in like he owns the place. He’s all confidence and swagger in his dark jeans and Ellington University hoodie. Damnit, why does he have to look so good? This would be so much easier if he was ugly.
He stops in front of my desk, a smirk on his lips.
“I’m on time,” he states as he peers down at the watch on his wrist. “With eight minutes to spare.”
“Wow, I’m impressed,” I say mockingly. His smile grows wider.
“You didn’t think I would be, huh?” he asks, his arms crossing over his shoulders like a shield.
I shake my head. “No, honestly, I didn’t.”
“You wound me, Sweetheart,” he acts as if he’s being stabbed in the chest and tumbles a bit.
“That was good. You should join the play,” I deadpan.
