Risky Play (Red Card #1)(22)

“Yeah?” I barked into the phone.

“Slade?” Mom’s voice was tired. “Are you feeling alright?”

I frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“You haven’t been by this week . . .” Her voice was filled with so much sadness my chest hurt. My parents might not have been together anymore, but they’d still enjoyed a friendship that went beyond that of normal divorced couples.

Mackenzie chose that moment to walk by with Alfie attached to his leash and looking happier than I’d ever seen him. You’d think it was impossible since she walked him twice a day, but the little guy was packing on the pounds.

“We’ll be back!” Mackenzie said in a clear voice that I knew my mom could hear.

“Who was that?” she said almost the second the door clicked shut. “Was that a woman?” She perked up so much my heart broke all over again. “You’re dating!”

“Not—really.” I scowled. “She’s just—”

“Oh, I can’t believe it! I’ve been so worried about you! Is that why you haven’t been visiting? Because you’ve been with this girl? Oh, Slade.” And that was when she burst into tears. I didn’t have the heart to say no.

She was crying because she thought I was happy.

I could be happy.

I could fake it.

I did it once, right? After all, Hugo had been happy—not a care in the world.

Just channel Hugo.

“Yeah, I was going to tell you,” I lied through my teeth. “But it’s still . . .” I gulped as I stared out the kitchen window. Mackenzie’s ponytail bounced with each step, and Alfie kept looking up at her as if he had a new favorite human. “New,” I finished. “It’s still new.”

If new meant nonexistent, then sure, that’s what it was!

“Oh, honey.” She blew her nose. “Do you think you can bring her by at some point?”

Shit. “Yeah, Mom, I’m really busy with the team right now, but I’ll do it soon, alright?”

“Oh! I can’t wait! I’ll get the albums out just in case it’s sooner rather than later.”

I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut. “Yeah, you do that. I gotta go, Mom.”

“Oh. Okay! Love you!”

“Love you back.” I hit end and stared at my phone for a few brief seconds before it registered that I was going to be five minutes late to practice. I ran out of the house and tried not to stare at Mackenzie as I drove by.

Tried.

Failed.

Same thing. Right?





Chapter Twenty MACKENZIE

His car was gone by the time Alfie and I made it back. A small part of me had just begun to feel like maybe since the whole cutting-my-hand incident he’d been nicer, then he did something like just stare at me like I was a complete waste of human space, which hurt.

But I wasn’t giving up.

And since I knew the way into a man’s heart was through his stomach, I baked, I cooked, and I made sure that at least he wasn’t hangry half the time.

“There you go, buddy.” I unleashed Alfie and went to grab a bottle of water only to trip over Slade’s duffel bag.

“Shoot! Alfie, I’ll be right back!” I didn’t know why I was talking to the dog like he could answer, but maybe my loneliness was manifesting as thinking that animals could understand me.

I dashed out the door with the duffel bag, got into my SUV, and probably broke at least two laws trying to get to the stadium in time. Traffic was horrible, like it always is downtown no matter what time of day, and his house wasn’t exactly close. It took a good twenty minutes on a normal day, when people didn’t drive five miles an hour and do their makeup in the rearview mirror.

I honked my horn.

Got flipped off.

Honked it again.

And nearly broke my slingback mules in an attempt to sprint into the stadium. I didn’t exactly know my way around, but Alton had been friends with one of the players, close enough friends that he was one of the groomsmen at our wedding, which only made me sweat more when I thought about seeing him. Because seeing him would remind me of Alton.

Of freaking Joanna.

Of them moving on together while I was working for Slade.

What the hell kind of name was Joanna, anyway?

I speed-walked into the front office and held out the duffel bag. “Hey, Slade Rodriguez left his—”

“On the field.” Security eyed me up and down then told me to put the bag on the conveyor belt while I went through a full TSA baton scan. I was surprised he didn’t force me to take off my shoes.

When I was done, he grabbed a guest pass and handed it to me only after I gave him my license to copy and my social security number.

Really?

They played soccer!

It wasn’t like I was trying to stalk Russell Wilson!

I didn’t really watch sports.

I mean I knew sports were a big deal through Alton, and I knew players made good money, but soccer involved running.

I preferred a cycle bar, with a nice little instructor who yelled encouraging things like “You can do it!” versus running for an hour and imagining chasing a bottle of wine.

“May I go now?” I asked in a voice I hoped sounded sweet rather than strained and irritated.