Fumbled (Playbook #2)(39)

Parking is a nightmare and the volunteers in orange vests who are supposed to be able to tell me where I can park are zero help. Obnoxious people who might already be drunk are crossing the streets without looking and definitely not at crosswalks. And I’m pretty sure Ace has learned some new, creative blending of curse words.

I’m about two seconds from taking our asses home when I see police officers who look as miserable as I feel monitoring the front gate of the Mustangs facility. They are Ace’s last chance at watching practice today. If they can’t tell me where the hell I can park, I’m leaving.

I roll down my window and yell out to them, ignoring the cars waiting behind me because, well, screw them. “Excuse me, sir? Can you tell me where I can park?”

“There’s paid parking all around, but it’s probably full by now. Maybe if you head that way, you can find something.” He takes his time walking up to my window, probably doing what I’m doing and trying not to yell at me for his misfortune of getting stuck here today.

“Yeah, I’ve seen all of that. But I have this parking pass.” I wave the stupid parking pass that doesn’t have directions to the lot where the freaking parking pass is valid. “Do you have any clue where it’s for?”

His eyes go wide and the once-over he gives me makes me super uncomfortable but also glad I took the ten—fine, thirty—extra minutes to get ready. “That’s for the player and family lot. Turn right into here and we’ll open the gate for you.”

“Oh my god. Thank you so much,” I say before he can retreat. “Finding this lot was about to make me go crazy. I swear, I might kiss you.”

“Ew, Mom!” Ace groans from the back seat. It’s the first thing he’s uttered since I accidentally snapped when he told me to watch my language.

Not even out of the car and I’m already embarrassing him. Today’s gonna go well.

“No problem, ma’am.” The officer is clearly uncomfortable and color rises in his cheeks as he turns to walk back to the other officer manning the gate to parking freedom.

I turn right and they wave me through without having to say another word. Which, whatever. He called me “ma’am.” I think saying I want to kiss you is much kinder than making someone feel a hundred years old.

As soon as we pass the gates, it’s like we’ve entered another world. Gone are the Hondas and Toyotas of the world. I’m surrounded by blacked-out Mercedes, BMWs, and Range Rovers. I’ve always taken pride in our Volvo. It’s a solid car. One I’d never be driving if it weren’t for Maya, but holy hell, it looks like a freaking hoopty compared to the other cars. I glance in my rearview mirror and see Ace with his face plastered against the window. Where I’m wearing an expression of horror, Ace is in awe. So I push through my urge to flip a U-turn and bust back through the gate and instead just park as far away from the other cars as possible.

“All right, dude. You ready?” I hand Ace his lanyard with the laminated family pass hanging from it.

“Yes!” He snatches it from my hand, throws it over his head, and is out of my car before I can even pull the key from the ignition.

I open the door and follow Ace across the parking lot faster than I wanted. The heat radiating up from the pavement and through my flip-flops is like the Devil’s way of encouragement. Any hint of morning breeze must have faded while we were driving in circles, searching for parking.

When we reach the sidewalk, there’s a woman with a bright smile and a headset on to greet us.

“Hi there. I’m Jane, what’s your name?” She reaches a hand out to Ace, whose smile shows he’s the only one of us excited to be here.

“I’m Ace,” he answers, and for the first time all day, I can hear the nerves in his voice.

“Hi, Ace.” She shakes his hand, her smile never dimming, before she moves it to me. “And I’m gonna guess you’re Mom?”

“I am.” I shake her hand. “Poppy Patterson.”

“Poppy,” she repeats. “I love that name.”

Most people repeat both names and say something like “Well, that’s a mouthful” or something just as annoying. And that’s before they find out my middle name is Penelope. Jane’s genuine and kind reaction to my name warms me to her instantly.

“Like I told Ace here, I’m Jane and I’m the manager of the family program for the Mustangs. Since we haven’t met before, I’m going to go ahead and assume this is your first time at training camp?”

“It is.”

“Well, great! Is your Mustang player one of the rookies?”

“My dad’s TK Moore,” Ace answers loud and proud.

I never could’ve imagined how fast Ace and TK would take to each other. There was no awkward waiting period. TK has no problem calling Ace his son, and Ace clearly has no problem telling the entire world TK’s his dad.

Me, on the other hand, I’m still adjusting to everything. And by the way Jane’s jaw damn near hits her shoe, it’s an adjustment for her too.

“Oh wow!” She shakes her head as if jarring her brain back into place. “I should’ve known that, you look just like him.”

I’m glad I have my sunglasses on because Ace beams so bright at her words, it would’ve blinded me without them. “Thanks!”