Below the Belt(79)

Damn him for doing this to her. For not only breaking her heart, but her confidence.

She beat on the steering wheel, jolting when her fist hit the horn instead.

Fantastic idea, Marianne. Destroy your property. That’ll show him.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, but that only ended in a hiccup, and she started all over again.

She was losing the guy she’d fallen in love with. Losing that sappy dream, the one that had caused her to doodle hearts and swirls on a notebook page. Just remembering that embarrassing moment made her cringe.

And now she was losing the dream of working in the big leagues. Colleges, minor leagues, farm teams . . . good-bye. Maybe taping up entitled high school jocks and icing down cheerleading injuries was just where she belonged.

Five seconds of that train of thought and Marianne knew it was absolute, utter bullshit. She was good at her job. She’d made a mistake, damn it, but who the hell didn’t make one every so often? She’d learned, that was for sure. No way was she even getting remotely involved with an athlete after this. Burned once . . .

She would go into the coach’s office tomorrow, lay down the error, tell him it wouldn’t happen again, and accept the lecture she deserved. And she would treat it as a foregone conclusion that she would keep her job, because she was good at it. As far as working with Brad . . . she would be a professional, because that’s what she was. A damn professional.

Her phone beeped, and she checked it. Kara.

How’d it go?

She knew her friend wasn’t asking about practice. She was asking about Brad.

Not so good.

Wanna come over for pancakes? Son’s cooking.

She nearly said no, because really, pancakes now? Heartbreak could not be solved by carb-alicious pancakes and syrup.

But then again, it couldn’t hurt.

An hour later, she pushed away from the coffee table where she and Kara were sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching a Project Runway marathon thanks to DVR. “Those were amazing. Seriously. That kid needs to be a chef.”

“He is sort of amazing, isn’t he?” Kara smiled the warm smile of maternal pride, and maybe a little smugness. Marianne didn’t blame her. Anyone who raised a halfway decent kid had a reason to be smug.

Marianne’s bag rang, and Kara reached for it without asking.

“Go right ahead.” Marianne waved and let her head hit the seat of the couch behind them. She patted her belly, too full to do anything else. “Tell whoever it is I’m currently in a breakfast-for-dinner food coma and I’ll get back to them tomorrow.”

“It’s Brad.”

She didn’t move, but her entire body tensed. “Then tell him to f*ck off.”

“Kid in the room,” Zach said wryly as he came in to grab their plates.

“Sorry, Zach.” Marianne cracked an eye open and shot Kara an apologetic smile. “My bad.”

“He’s heard worse at school, I’m sure. Though he knows not to repeat it,” Kara added with a warning tone.

Her son saluted her and headed back to the kitchen with their empty plates. A moment later, they heard the sink running.

“He cooks pancakes and does dishes? I’ll take two.”

Kara chuckled. “He’s sucking up. I took away the Xbox for sassing off, and he’s attempting to get back into my good graces so he can return to Minecraft a day or two early.”

“Not gonna happen, is it?”

“Hell, no. But I’m not telling him that. I might get a load or two of laundry out of the deal before I drop the truth bomb.” Kara held up the phone, which beeped with a voice mail. “Want to check it?”

“No. There’s really nothing left to talk about.” She held out a hand for the phone, but it started ringing again before Kara could pass it over. “Now who?”

“Brad again.” Kara rejected the call, then turned Marianne’s phone off before tossing it back in the tote bag. “There. You can check it tomorrow when you get to work.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do.” Kara pressed her cheek to Marianne’s head for a moment. “Do you need to stay here, or are you okay to drive back home?”

“I had eighteen pancakes, not beers. Ugh,” she finished with a groan, rubbing her stomach harder. “You’d think I’d learn. Carbs never solve anything.”

“But they taste delicious while you avoid your problems.” Kara snickered as Marianne flipped her off. “Come on, Carb Queen. Let’s get you back to your car.”





CHAPTER


23


After voice mail number three—the third of which never even rang, just went straight to her inbox—Brad realized he was probably doing more harm than good at this point. His finger hovered over Marianne’s contact, then he forced himself to scroll up and call his mother instead.

“Bradley!” Hearing his mom’s warm greeting—rather than a cold voice mail recording—instantly kicked his mood up a few notches. “Still hanging in there?”

“Still hanging in. Some days, by my fingernails.”

“Staying healthy?”

He debated a moment, then decided she could take it. “I hurt my knee, but it’s not too bad. I can still box, so that’s what’s important.”