I roll over on the bed, straddling him with my legs, waking him with my mouth, and I tell him to love me again. I tell him to go slow.
I tell him to do it like it’s the last time.
September 10th
Hyatt Regency
New Orleans, LA
I lay across the bed flipping through the channels, my phone pinned to my ear by my shoulder. It’s been there so long the side of my face is starting to sweat. “No, Mom, it’s fine. You don’t have to cook for me when you get here.”
“You probably haven’t eaten a home cooked meal in ages,” she complains.
“I did last week. I went to Fiso’s place to have dinner with his family. His wife made chicken longrice. It was good.”
“I’ll make you poke when I get there.”
“Mom, no,” I chuckle, rolling over onto my back so I can switch the phone to my other ear. “Don’t make me anything. I can’t have any surprises in my diet right now. Not before a game.”
“Your first game,” she corrects proudly.
“Yeah. My first game.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. You know your body and you know your job. I just want to take care of you. I always will.”
“I know. And if it wasn’t game day tomorrow, I’d let you. Just come watch me play and enjoy the vacation. That’s all I want you to do for me.”
“Do you have our flight information?”
“Sloane does. She’s picking you up at the airport and bringing you to the stadium. You’re coming in too late in the day for me to do it. I have warm ups.”
“She’ll be there on time?”
“She’s always on time.” I reach for the nightstand, grabbing my tablet. “Hey, speaking of Sloane, she sent me something I wanted to ask you about.”
“What is it?” Mom asks warily. She always reacts like this when I mention Sloane. She likes her, she’s happy with how the Draft turned out, but she doesn’t like the way it went down. She doesn’t trust her, not like I do.
I swipe my hand across the screen to bring it to life. It opens immediately on the e-mail I last read. “It’s a letter she got in my fan mail. The person who wrote it says they’re family and they want me to call them to catch up.”
“What’s the name?”
“David Brandt. He says we’re cousins?”
“David Brandt,” she mutters to herself, thinking. “It doesn’t ring a bell—Oh! Oh,” she repeats, the second exclamation much more subdued than the first. “I think that’s your Aunt Candace’s stepson. She was married to a Richie Brandt for a while, he had two sons at the time, but they split years ago. They lived in Boise the last I heard. I don’t think you’ve ever even met his kids.”
“So we don’t know who this guy is?”
“No. You’re definitely not related by blood.”
“I’m gonna ignore him then. He says he wants to catch up and talk about some exciting ideas he has.”
Mom grunts. “Sounds like he wants to ask you for money.”
“That’s what Sloane said.” I close the cover on my tablet, falling back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. “She said that’s going to happen a lot. She’s filtering most of it so I don’t have to deal with it. She said you should get your phone number unlisted so people can’t find you and hassle you.”
“We’ll be fine.”
I close my eyes, prepping for the storm. “She also agrees with me that you should take my offer of buying a condo there on the island with a doorman.”
“Don’t start this again,” she warns sternly.
“I’m buying one whether you live in it or not.”
“Good for you.”
“I’d rather you stayed in it than strangers I’d have to rent it to.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Mom.”
“Trey.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
“Let me buy you a home.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
I take a deep breath, going in for the killing blow. “It would take a lot of stress off my mind if I knew you were safe and not getting harassed because of me.”
She’s silent for a long time, and part of me wishes I hadn’t done it. It’s not a low blow, but it’s a calculated one.
“How are you feeling?” she asks quietly. “Are you doing okay getting ready for this game?”
“I’m good. I’m calm.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I’m not worried about work. The only thing I worry about now is you.”
She sighs heavily. “Oh, Trey… I don’t want you to worry.”
“Then let me do this. Just this one thing and I’ll stop. I’ll never ask you to take anything from me again. Not even a stick of gum.”
I wait with my breath frozen in my lungs. It’s an argument we’ve had so many times, and she’s shut me down every time. I can’t imagine why tonight would be any different.
And still somehow it is.
“Alright,” she agrees softly. “You win.”
I smile. “You’ll let me do it?”