Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

I wanted to feel warm.

Mike, Lauren and I sat on the floor before the fireplace while Anna curled up against her mother on the sofa, watching as Lauren dealt out the cards. “We should see if anyone has any pictures of Dad. Aunt Maggie should.”

“Aunt Maggie?” Lauren sloppily picked up her cards. I sneaked a look. “Jesus.”

Anna sat straighter. “She is. She’s our only aunt.”

“I’m sure she has pictures.” Kate hugged her youngest to her side, her voice just shy of normal. “Of course, she’s suffering her own loss right now, so maybe we should save that for later.”

“I’d think she’d want to look at them. Because Uncle Patrick’s probably in them too, right?”

“Laur, hold your cards closer,” Mike said in a beleaguered voice, like he’d told her time and again.

“Why don’t you just not look at them?”

“Because they’re staring me in the face. Besides, Natalie’s cheating too.”

My head flew up. “That’s not true.”

Mike grinned at me. “And she lies.”

I narrowed my eyes. His danced. Anna kept talking. “Well, we’re going to her house tomorrow, aren’t we? For the month’s mind thing. We can ask.”

“We’ll see.” Kate closed her eyes as she stroked her daughter’s head. “We’ll see.”

The evening went on. Somehow I ended up in involved in an intense discussion with Lauren and Anna on Girl Scout Cookie names. I was vastly outnumbered by Bostonian fools who thought Caramel Delights was legitimate.

“Hey,” I tossed at Mike, after we figured out the difference in cookie names came from which of the two Girl Scout baking companies produced it (thus destroying a satisfying

and endless argument forever), “isn’t it weird, then, that you ended up playing for the New York Leopards? Didn’t the Patriots bid on you?”

Lauren groaned. “Oh, sore subject.”

“What? They didn’t?”

Mike looked aggravated. “They did, they were just too late. What was I supposed to do?”

My mouth flapped open. “So would you rather be playing for them? Would you leave the Leopards?” I felt personally betrayed.

He laughed. “No. Not anymore. They’re my family.”

“Actually,” Anna put in from the couch, “we’re you’re family. They’re just a bunch of dudes who knock people down.”

I excused myself around nine, when Kate started yawning. Back in my room, I spent the next hour writing emails. I started with Cam and Mom, but the O’Connors’ relationship made me send notes to each of my brothers. When I came back from Ireland, maybe I’d see if we could all get together for dinner.

And then a new email popped up. And I stopped breathing.

The subject line was innocuous. The sender was Dr. Henry Ceile.

Dear Ms. Sullivan,

I hope you’ve been well. I see you are in Ireland working, once more, on one of Dr. Anderson’s projects. I am about to begin excavating an Iron Age site in Ulster, and I would like to extend an invitation to join me as one of my site managers. I would be happy to meet with you and speak about this opportunity.

Best,

Dr. Henry Ceile

I was still staring at it when someone knocked on my door and it swung open. I looked up to see Mike.