CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Faith.

Sinjin’s game tonight promises to be another huge one for the team. I hope they pull off the victory while praying he doesn’t get hurt. It’s one thing to cheer on the Pats from the comfort of my living room. Yet another to watch a guy I know take a hit with potential life-changing consequences.

Sinjin left me two tickets downstairs with the grad student who mans the lobby desk during daylight hours. I’m ready to go but it’s still early. Charlene left ten minutes ago, so I’m clear to Skype with Kirsty. I’m close to bouncing in my chair, which is unusual for me. “Hey, girl. I have news.”

She rests her chin on her left hand. “Pray tell.”

“I had an actual date!” I fan myself with my hands. “He’s California hot. Tall, dark, and tasty.”

Kirsty’s eyebrows narrow. “When?”

“Last night. We met at Iguana’s and split the Burritozilla.”

“With the jock?” She leans back from her computer. “Spontaneous or planned?”

“Both, I suppose.” I shrug my shoulders because I can’t read her body language, and I realize I should have told her before the date. “His name is Caleb St. John. He asked me out yesterday in class. He let me pick the place.”

“Congratulations.” Her voice is flat.

Shit. “What’s wrong?”

“Look. I don’t know this guy. I’ll give you ten seconds to tell me three important ways this jock is different from Dimitri. Go.”

Oh God. “One. He meets me in public. Two. He introduces me to his friends. Three. He kissed me brainless without ever reaching for my tits. Four. He’s an Eagle Scout. Five—”

“Stop.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Eagle Scout? That’s good. How do you know this?”

“We played two truths and a lie.”

“Wait. It just pinged for me. His name is St. John? As in Sinjin?” She snorts. “Hilarious.”

“I know, right? What are the odds?”

“Astronomical, especially since he shares the same last name as your book boyfriend. How does he kiss?”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Hic. “Like I had to check to make sure my shoes weren’t smoking when we pulled apart.” Hic.

“Okay. Okay. He sounds decent. Take care of your hiccups.” She laughs. “I want to hear about your date.”

I make her wait while I gather supplies. I drink water from a cup backward through a napkin, my surefire remedy for curing the hiccups, then give Kirsty a rundown from last night.

“Faith, be cautious. I’m not there to guard your back. I’m thousands of miles away, stuck in the same town as Markos, and his boy, Dimitri the dickhole. I can’t kick Sinjin’s ass if he messes with you.”

She has a point. I’m playing a dangerous game, and it will serve me right to have my heart skewered from my chest again. Then again, maybe I should believe his distinction is an outward sign he’s trustworthy.

I think about our kiss and my toes curl with the memory. I know Eagle Scouts excel at acts of service, but who knew one could kiss like he invented a Scout make-out badge?

She blows out a breath. “At the same time, he sounds like he might be different. I’ll withhold judgment for now. I’m going to channel your nonna by telling you to ‘Use your head, not only your feet.’”

The pain of missing Nonna feels like a pin jabbed into a corner of my heart. “Will you stop by and hug her from me?”

“Of course. She feeds me cannoli. I go once a week without you having to ask.”

My heart swells with longing. I can almost taste my grandmother’s cannoli, and my mouth waters. I want to be in my nonna’s kitchen with Kirsty. I have to remind myself my best friend has it worse. She has to stay in place, while I’ve moved on.

I’m nervous and edgy. Kickoff isn’t for another hour. I call Dad. The sound of his voice will calm me down.

“Lacerna.”

I know he’s distracted and didn’t check caller ID. “Hey, it’s me. Your favorite child.”

“My only child.”

“Same thing.”

“Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”

Not in a playful mood. My anxiety ratchets. “You tell me. Still working crazy hours on the project or did you solve the GPS glitch?”

Dad manages the company’s latest interactive game app, which uses the same characters from their insanely popular off-road biking game. Because the software bug blocks production, Dad’s free time is a distant memory until they figure out the issue. We haven’t picked out a trail and ridden our bikes since I moved into the dorm.

He doesn’t know about Sinjin, but that’s normal. Dad hasn’t been given the opportunity to question a boy about his intentions. I am his little girl.

“No, pumpkin. I’ll make it up to you as soon as we ship this damn thing.”

We end the call. My skin prickles with energy. I need a distraction from my mood. Darth Vader’s theme ringtone begins to play on my phone. The sound startles me and the device squirts from my hand to land on the bed.

Mom. Again. My heart knocks against my ribs in three hard bangs. I go light-headed. Today might be the day I sever all ties by telling her she’s full of shitty, unwanted advice. All I have to do is pick up and tell her to leave me alone once and for all.

Instead I push my head between my knees, close my eyes, take regular breaths, and wait for “The Imperial March” to stop creeping me out. Not the best idea to personalize her ringtone. I remain cemented in place after it stops. I breathe evenly to avoid the onset of hiccups, and try to calm the thwack, thwack, thwack of my heart. What does she want? No single reason to prompt these calls from her when she hasn’t tried to contact me since her Mother’s Day insult years ago.

My damn phone dings, signaling voice mail. I don’t want to listen to her voice, but I’m compelled to hear what she has to say. I jump to my feet. My hands shake so hard it takes me three tries to get my thumbprint to register and unlock my phone. And the hiccups start. Dammit.

I raise the phone to my ear and hear her voice for the first time in four years. Hic.

“Hello, Faith. It’s your mother calling. I hoped to reach you directly rather than your voice mail. I want to let you know I’ll be traveling to your area soon. We should connect. Call me to set a date.”

I set my phone down. I hold my breath to stop the hiccups. Dread slithers down my spine when I consider being in the same state with her. What’s the damn point? I breathe out and in. Does she imagine some kind of tearful reunion with the two of us bonding over a leaf of lettuce and lemon water? Not. Happening. I’m an adult. I won’t allow myself to be forced to spend time with that neurotic, vanity-driven witch. Hic.

Charlene steps into the room. One look at her face tells me she’s been crying. Oh shit.

My phone dings again, and I jump. Hic.

I check the display and feel torn. Beau’s downstairs. I text him I’ll be down in two minutes, and I start for the door. At the last minute, I turn to my nemesis. It’s impossible for me to walk away from someone in pain.

I don’t want to ask, but my sense of decency demands it of me. “Are you okay?”

Her cornflower-blue eyes are drenched in tears, but she nods her head and mumbles, “I’m fine.”

Crapity crap. I’d rather drive toothpicks deep into my gums. I should see a therapist about my compulsion to help people who have proven to be poisonous to me.

“Are you sure?” I squat in front of her bed. Make eye contact. “I’m a great listener.”

While I wait for her reply, my phone buzzes in my hand, startling me, which makes me wheel backward and land on my ass. Hic.

Charlene giggles and covers her mouth. Behind her hand she says, “I don’t need you.”

So much for helping.

Hic. Freaking hiccups.

I pop to my feet and shove my cell in my pocket. “That’s where you’re wrong. People need each other. Otherwise we lose our humanity.”

I grab my black-and-gold Gladiator scarf and stalk out of our room. I can’t focus on Charlene’s potential crap when I have a metric boatload of my own.

Beau meets me at my dorm for us to walk together to the stadium. As soon as we hit the path, I tell him, “My mom left a voice mail. She’s planning to visit. I can’t wrap my brain around it.”

He asks, “Well, aren’t you the least bit curious about why she’s reaching out?”

“Not enough to want to be within striking distance of the viper. I’d rather receive a presentation slide with bullet points. I prefer maintaining a safe distance.”

“This meet might give you closure. Using your analogy—if she wants to drip more venom in your ear, then leave. If she wants to make amends and work toward a relationship with you, you might regret not meeting her. You have every right to not speak to her. Just understand this may be an opportunity for a new chapter for you both.”

Beau leads me to the left path. It’s a longer route to the stadium but we’ll have less foot traffic. “Please don’t go all reasonable on me.”

He makes eye contact. “Do yourself a favor and listen to what she has to say. I lost both my parents on the same day.”

I’m stunned by his revelation. “I had no idea.”

“It’s not something I talk about. Ever. Next April will mark two years since the accident that killed them both. Don’t leave yourself open to regret.”

I rest my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t offer more details. “I’m so sorry for your loss. You listen to me talk about every corner of my life. Will you tell me what happened?”

“One day, we’ll talk. Copious amounts of alcohol might be required. For now, I want you to think about meeting your mother. You’re an adult now. Get clarity.”

“You mean, decide whether I care enough to expose myself to her acerbic opinions of me.”

The thought of seeing her again makes me nauseated while the thought of not being able to contact her leaves me with a vague sense of discomfort.

Beau kisses the top of my head. “Agree to meet her and tell her face-to-face to kiss your ass.”

I knock his elbow with mine. “Nope. She’d make me turn around just to critique the size, shape, and width.”

“One of these days I’m going to tear those Mommy-tinted glasses off your face and make you take a good long look at yourself through your eyes, not hers.”

“Christ. Why do people think all it’s going to take is for me to glance in a mirror and a fucking miracle will happen? I know what I look like.”

“Do you?” he asks, giving me side-eye. “Now shut the fuck up or we’ll be late for the game.”

After a beat of awkward silence I admit, “I’m sorry, Beau. My mom doesn’t bring out the best in me.”

He shrugs. “I understand. In theory.”

I reach into my pocket to pull out the two players’ tickets Sinjin left for me. I pass one to Beau and hand the other to the attendant.

“Courtesy of your boy?”

“Yes.”

The note Sinjin wrote on the envelope read, I’m not a fictional British aristocrat, but come to the game and watch this tight end dominate the field, or the sideline. Coach decides where he needs me most. And like a lemming, here I am, dragging Beau with me to cheer Sinjin on. The tickets seat us in the players’ families’ section of the stadium.

By halftime, the Gladiators have taken the lead with a field goal. Three points is not a comfortable lead, but we’re playing hard. Sinjin was on the field for a few plays in the first half and carried the ball for a first down twice. The woman in the seat to my right might be in her early forties. She’s stylish, gorgeous, wearing skinny jeans and an oversized sweater in Gladiator black that she’s accessorized with a chunky gold necklace. Black leather ankle boots with four-inch heels raise her to my height. Her sable-colored hair falls in soft waves to touch her shoulders. Her blue eyes are so pale in color they’re almost silver.

This woman is probably related to one of the players. It’s hard to believe that she gave birth to any of the mammoths on the field. And I’m drawn by the fact she’s here to watch the game alone. Something my mother would never think to do for me. Be a part of my life, to support me without being the center of attention.

An attractive man plops into the seat next to her. She glances at the newcomer, and her smile freezes. She faces the field when she says, “Lucas, please choose an available seat in another row. I’m not ready to play nice.”

“Come on, Ria,” the man replies. “He’s our son. We sit together. Always.”

The woman leans closer to the man to whisper, “Not anymore.”

He snaps, “I have every right to sit here. Look, I admit I made a huge mistake.” Then in a gentler, more pleading voice he says, “I don’t want to lose you.”

I am agog. I find myself fascinated by their exchange. I pretend not to listen and wait for her reply while outwardly focusing on the school band performing on the field below us. Beau taps my leg to get my attention, but I use my hand to signal no. He relaxes back into his seat. And I continue to monitor their conversation without being obvious I’m eavesdropping.

She turns to stare at the man. “I devoted my life to you, our marriage and our family. I loved you with all my heart. We raised an amazing young man together. But, I can’t un-see what I walked in on. I’m not your wife anymore.”

He stands. “I’m sorry, Ria, so damn sorry.” He walks out of our row as the players return to the field. Man. She didn’t even raise her voice. She’d quietly ejected him from his seat and her life. I’m kind of in awe of her and I’m curious about which player is her son.

The clock winds down, signifying the end of halftime. Both teams line up for the kickoff. Sinjin heads out with the kick-off return team. New Mexico kicks off, and Sinjin catches the ball on the ten-yard line. He runs about fifteen yards before another player tries to tackle him, but he stays on his feet. The woman named Ria and I are both on our feet screaming, “Run, Caleb.”

That’s when it hits me. I’ve been eavesdropping on Sinjin’s parents.

Sinjin breaks away from another player and carries the ball across the field and into the Spartan end zone. We’re screaming touchdown in stereo. Beau pumps his fist. I dance in place. We hold our breath as the kicker lines up for the PAT. The football soars through the uprights. And we lead the Spartans ten to zero.

“How do you know Caleb?” his mother asks.

“We have the same calculus class.”

We sit as the special teams line up for the kickoff. She says, “Well honey, I’ll apologize for the unexpected half-time entertainment.”

Most people would pretend the scene didn’t happen, even the quiet confrontation between those two. She seems the type to embrace honesty, which makes me do the same.

“I hate pretense. I wish I didn’t overhear your conversation, because it’s private, but I’d be lying. For the record, any man who risked losing you needs his head examined.”

She wraps her arm around my shoulder in a one-armed hug. “Thanks, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Faith.” It’s comforting being cuddled by a mom-type today, especially from someone who didn’t pinch my back fat in the middle of the embrace. My lips curve. “You’re welcome.”