"We are coming down for the home opener on Saturday, and we are having a family lunch on Sunday," Max says, and my heart sinks.
"No one told me anything." My voice goes low. "Maybe I’m not invited." I swallow the hurt.
"Of course you're invited," Allison replies, and I can see her eyes fill with tears. "There isn’t any way that you wouldn’t be invited." She looks at Max. "I’m going to …" Her teeth clench together as she threatens I don’t even know what.
Max holds up his hand at Allison to get her to stop mumbling and then turns back to me. "Saturday, you will come to the game. He can’t ignore you if you're right in front of him."
"We’ll see." I don’t commit, but I know in my heart I’m going to go if my whole family will be there.
"There is no we’ll see," he says. "If you want me on your show, you’ll be at the game and at lunch."
"That’s blackmail," I point out to him, laughing. "And that is how you got the bad-boy title."
He groans when Allison laughs. "Okay, see you Saturday. Keep your chin up, yeah?" I nod my head. "Love you."
"Love you, too." I disconnect the phone for just a second before I dial my sister.
She picks up after two rings, and I can see she’s at the brownstone in the city. "Are you coming to the game on Saturday?" I ask, and she just looks at me.
"What game? Where?" she asks, and the hurt goes away just a bit.
"The home opener in Dallas," I fill her in. "And the family lunch on Sunday."
"Only our family plans an event in Dallas for a home opener to a team that is not in our city." She laughs. "Are we going to Montreal for Dylan’s home opener?"
"Well, Dad is coming, and I need some sort of backup," I tell her. "So pack your bags."
"I had the whole weekend planned out already," she groans. "And nowhere on that itinerary was it fly to Dallas."
"What happened to being spontaneous?" She glares at me.
"That word gives me hives." She scratches her arms and moves up to her neck. "Like literally hives."
"You can stay with me." She rolls her eyes. "I’ll even get the creamer for your coffee you like."
She throws her head back and rolls it from side to side. "Ugh, fine." She stares at me. "But you owe me, and when you and Dad make up, I don’t want to hear from either of you for a full month."
I laugh. "Like you can go two days without calling me."
"Goodbye," she says, hanging up, and I get up to leave. I turn the computer off, grabbing my phone that suddenly feels like it’s a million pounds in my hand.
"Just text him," I tell myself. "Just do it and get it over with."
I pull up his name and see that the last time he texted me was the day before I gave him the news I was moving. My finger moves over the last text that he wrote, Love you.
My fingers type before I can change my mind. I press send and watch as the message goes blue and says delivered.
Me: Are we on speaking terms yet?
Chapter 4
Wilson
The alarm rings, and I slowly open my eyes. My hand reaches out of the covers to stop the buzzing. I press the button next to the light to open the electric shades. I roll on my back and groan as I stretch and feel the pull in my legs. "Fuck, I’m getting old," I say to myself, looking out my bedroom window as the sun lights up the room.
My phone beeps beside my bed, and I don’t move, enjoying the calmness before the storm. Tonight is the season opener, and everyone is on pins and needles, including me. The beginning of the year is like the first day back at school. Everything is like a fresh start.
It’s also the first time in five years that I’m actually not suspended for the first game, so that in and of itself should get some sort of medal. The phone beeps again, and I see that I have a bunch of texts that have come through.
One is from my agent, Richard, who wishes me a good game. The others are from numbers not stored in my phone, so I don’t even bother reading them. Then I get to one from Tiffany, my recent ex.
Tiffany: Do you want to meet up after the game?
It takes me two seconds to answer that one.
Me: Fuck No.
I put her on “do not disturb” and head to the bathroom. Turning the water on in the sink, I wet my face and run my hands through my dark brown hair. As I look at myself in the mirror, my eyes go from green to blue in a blink of an eye. It got me the name green-eyed monster one year. I shake my head and laugh, wondering if I should bother shaving.