Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

“What happens when you get back home?” I asked.

Shelby finished her sip and dabbed her napkin across her mouth. “I have a meeting with the public defender’s office to check in. I was hoping to get my test results back by now, but so far, still nothing.”

I nodded. “I’m sure the holidays don’t help. Seems like everything kind of stops.”

“Yeah. If I don’t hear anything, I’m going to have to go to Lansing and figure out what the hell is going on. I’m hoping the DA will keep my spot open, and I’m also going to try and finagle some info out of them.”

“About what?”

Shelby studied her waffle as she cut it into little squares. “There’s a case—it’s kind of complicated.”

“Complicated or personal?”

She bounced a look up from her intent study of her breakfast. “How did you—well, okay. Yes. It’s not in regard to me. But my best friend from high school. Rayna. She’s the one who came with me to that first game.”

“She’s in some kind of legal trouble?”

Shelby shook her head. “Her brother. He went down for assault, that he had nothing to do with, and the poor guy has been in prison for four years. Their family has done all they can do. I mean, they aren’t rich or anything, but I promised Rayna and her mom I’d get him out, and I’m going to.”

“Is that why you went to law school?”

“No. When it all happened, I was already in school to become a lawyer, but Hudson’s case lit a fire under my ass and changed my plans from trying to swing a job with some corporate firm. Watching everything he went through when he got arrested, and the trial, well, that’s what motivated me to become a public defender—because his sucked so bad—and he’s the first person I want to help. I’m trying to build a case to get him an appeal.”

“Wow.” I started playing with the remnants of my breakfast, unsure of how to respond. Shelby had told me she wanted to be a public defender before, but I’d had no idea it was so close to her heart. “No wonder you’re eager to get started.”

Shelby nodded, her lips quirking slightly like she was nibbling her lower lip. “It’s more than that. Hudson is autistic—I know he’s innocent, and I’m going to prove it. He confessed, but I know it was a coerced confession under duress or after a straight-up threat. Some overly zealous cop probably wanted his collar for the day. Assholes. I know cops. And there are some really good ones. They put their lives on the line every day, especially in cities like Bitsberg. But this one, he had it in for Hudson, and I don’t know why. All it takes is one bad cop to wreck people’s lives. That’s what happened to Hudson.”

“Well he’s lucky he has you on his side,” I said, offering her a smile. “You know, you should talk to Lacey. She’s really involved with the community because of her job. She has a lot of connections and might be able to help you.”

Shelby nodded. “That’s a good idea. Guess I know what we can talk about on the flight home.”

“Thanks for going out with them last night.”

“Of course! I really like Lacey. Are you and Chance good friends?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “We’ve been on the team together for a little while, but before Chance met Lacey, he was different.”

Shelby laughed softly. “I could see that. She’s like his counterbalance.”

“He’s slowed down, and we have a lot more in common now. Or at least it feels that way. There’s a certain stigma that accompanies being a pro football player, I guess. For every party hard, light it up kind of guy, there’s another one who has a wife and kids and tries to get home to read bedtime stories and spends the off season at the zoo, instead of living it up in Cabo.”

“So, before Lacey, Chance was the pro, and you, well, you’re more of the second guy.”

“Minus the wife and kids,” I added. “Most nights when I leave practice or a game it’s to go home and take a long shower, crash out on my recliner, and watch replays.”

“Hmm.”

“All right, what is it?” I said, no longer able to remain quiet under her thoughtful gaze.

Shelby blinked, and the intent look in her eyes softened. “Nothing.”

“You’re thinking I’m a sad case.”

Shelby smiled and pushed around a cube of watermelon on her plate. “Not at all. I was just wondering what you’d do if you weren’t playing football?.”

I set down my fork and I reached for my coffee. “I was taking accounting classes. I was gonna be some suit and tie guy with a corner office and a briefcase.”

Shelby snort-laughed. “Good with numbers and with your hands. My, my, Mr. Leverette, you are quite the catch,” she said, giving me a wink.