Fumbled (Playbook #2)(92)

Oh, and Rochelle reached out. I think this is because Sadie put the fear of God into her and told her I had her and Jacob on tape going to my house and threatening me. It might’ve been because she heard from a blog that TK and I were over and she no longer hated me with the fire of three burning suns. I told her everything was fine—it wasn’t—but if she ever came around my house again, I’d open my gun safe—I don’t own a gun—and make her regret it. I haven’t heard from her since.

“You want to take the boys to Bonnie Brae after the game?” Cole asks, scooting his chair a little closer to mine.

Ugh.

And Cole became a close talker again.

I scoot my chair away. “It’s too cold for ice cream.”

“Lunch?” he keeps on.

I gotta give it to the guy, he’s a persistent little bugger.

“No thanks.” I pull my sunglasses from my purse and put them on, hoping he’ll get the point, expecting he won’t.

He keeps talking. “Ace is doing great this season.”

“Yeah,” I agree, and watch Ace as he runs down the field, waving his hand in the air to show he’s open. “He loves it.”

“I guess being an athlete runs in the family.” Cole huffs out an awkward laugh and I resist the very real urge to either roll my eyes or punch him in the throat.

He knows TK and I aren’t together—his nearness proves that—but it hasn’t stopped him from bringing TK up in conversations and subtly trying to get concrete evidence.

Luckily for him, Sadie’s cleavage-baring, no-jacket-wearing self—even though it’s nearly November and cold AF outside—materializes. I ignore his question and stand up, making my way down the sideline while still focusing on the game.

“Go go go!” I cup my hands around my mouth and yell when Ace gets the ball in the goal box. He cuts the ball left, then right, beating the defender, plants his left foot beside the ball, and strikes it with his laces, sending it soaring into the top right corner of the net. “Yes!” I jump up and down, thinking this is so much better than football.

“Go, Ace!” Sadie’s yelling as I reach her.

“You got here just in time.” I shove my hands back into my pockets, colder just from looking at Sadie.

“You know I’m the Patterson good luck charm.” She juts out her hip, the sun causing all the sparkles covering her skin and hair to wink.

“That you are.” I link my arm through hers and pull her back to where I’m sitting and point to the extra chair I brought her.

“Thank you,” she says, leaning back into the bright pink chair.

I point to the small duffel bag between us. “I brought extra blankets in case you get cold.”

She unzips the bag, pulling out the fleece blanket and draping it over her legs. “See, this is why soccer mom Poppy is my second favorite Poppy.”

“Who’s your favorite Poppy?” I ask, like there really is more than one Poppy.

She turns to me, aiming a bright smile my way that makes me regret asking. “Drunk Poppy,” she says. “She does some wild shit.”

I don’t have to look to know Cole is listening.



* * *



? ? ?

“A HAT TRICK!” I ruffle Ace’s hair before he climbs into the back seat. “You’re a superstar!”

“It’s not hockey.” Color creeps up his cheeks, and not from running or the cold. “Next time don’t throw your hat onto the field, and please don’t steal other parents’ hats to throw.”

“Sadie stole hats, not me!” I defend myself, aiming a dirty look at Sadie.

She doesn’t care about my glare or Ace’s embarrassment. “One hat wasn’t enough and I didn’t have one. What else was I going to do?”

“You guys are nuts,” Ace says with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“You love us.” Sadie shrugs, fully embracing that she is, in fact, nuts.

“You’re all right,” Ace says, which is nine-year-old cool guy for “You’re the best.”

I turn out of the park’s parking lot and notice out of the side of my eye that Sadie’s looking at her phone and has gone completely stiff.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road in front of me.

“Nothing,” she answers too fast for it to be true.

“Sadie . . .” I use my mom voice on her.

“Aviana just sent a message in the group text.” She drops her phone into her rhinestone-studded purse. “That’s all.”

She is so full of shit.

Aviana sends GIFs all day, every day, in the chat among all of us. Nothing she sends has ever made my back go straight.

Even though I don’t want to, I drop it. I’ll look at the text myself when we get home.

I turn up the radio when Ace hears his new favorite song and push the pedal down a little harder than normal. I don’t even take the extra second to drive through the alley and park in the garage.

“Cool driving, Mom,” Ace says when we come to a stop in front of the house. “I’ve never seen you blow so many yellow lights.”

“I did not.”

I totally did.

“Suuuuure.” Ace slings his soccer bag over his shoulder and heads to the house.