“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re older than I am,” he replied.
“Anson Hawkins, do I get a hello or what?” Mia asked with sass in her voice. Darren pretended to vomit. “I don’t understand why you’re friends with him,” she told me as she stepped closer, and I gave her a hug. Mia was great. As close as I was to Darren, I considered her a good friend as well.
“Eh, sometimes I wonder myself.”
“Because I’m awesome,” Darren replied. “Hey, El. Hey, Ms. Hawkins.” Mom gave Darren a hug. Given how much my mom loved Darren, it was easy to think I’d been friends with him my whole life rather than just since I’d started in the NFL.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asked. “You took a nasty hit in the second.”
I waved her off. It had been a bad hit, but I was fine—sore and bruised, but that was how it was supposed to be. “I’m fine, Ma. I’m used to it by now.”
“Well, I’m not. No matter how many times I see it, I wanna go down there and tell them to leave my boy alone.” Everyone laughed, including me, and then Mom turned toward Mia and Darren. “Did the two of you already have Thanksgiving dinner?”
“We ate with our family yesterday,” Darren said.
“We’re having a meal at the house tomorrow. You’re both welcome to come. Elias is bringing his new girlfriend. She’s lovely. Hopefully we’ll learn more about the mystery woman Anson was with last week, and he’ll start bringing someone around too. I told him she has to have my stamp of approval. Too many people out there just want to take advantage of someone famous.”
Fuck, fuckity fuck fuck. “I told you, Ma, it’s not a big deal. We’re not serious,” I said just as Mia asked, “You met someone?” and Darren said, “Well, this is new. You didn’t tell me you were with someone last week.”
My head nearly exploded, the three of them all in my business, prying into my life. When my gaze snagged on Elias, he frowned. I looked away. I knew that stare. He was worried. He could tell something was up. “It’s nothing. We’re just friends.”
“You two boys have been single too long.” Mom pointed back and forth between me and Darren.
“Hey, how’d I get caught up in this?” There was another round of laughter, but I didn’t join in.
“Tell me you’ll come,” Mom said to them. She loved having a full house. She used to tell us how she and Dad wanted to have more kids, and she’d taken Mia and Darren on as her own.
“I can always eat,” Darren replied.
“Yeah, we’d love to. Thank you, Ms. Hawkins,” Mia added. We chatted a while longer before everyone went their own way.
It wasn’t until I was back home by myself that I checked my phone. I knew that unless West was in session or taking care of other constituent work where he couldn’t pick up his cell, there would be a message from him.
Stalker: I want to kill the motherfucker who just tackled you.
Stalker: What the fuck??? He has it out for you!
Stalker: How are you not dead?
Stalker: Damn! That block was badass.
Stalker: Fuck yeah! That’s my boy! Touchdown, baby!
His boy. Shivers skated down my spine, warmth following in their wake. I sure as shit wasn’t supposed to like being called his boy. I was a man.
Stalker: Good game. :) That’s what fuckface gets for hitting you so hard.
I laughed. God, West was great. I couldn’t talk to him or see a message from him and stay in a bad mood. Each word I read released some of the tension inside me.
I grabbed some water from the fridge, went to my bedroom, and did something really fucking stupid, something I wasn’t supposed to be doing.
At. All.
I video called him.
“This is a surprise,” he said. His hair was a mess, his eyes a little puffy.
“You’re not home?”
“No, I’m in LA. I had some business down here to deal with.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just a day where no matter how hard I tried, everything went wrong. I just… Fuck, it’s so hard to want to help people and then to always feel like my hands are tied. Schools are struggling, parents are struggling, too many people on the streets go without medical care or are unable to get help for mental illness. It’s a lot sometimes.” He rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about this. You were fucking hot out there. Why didn’t you bring your football gear when you came here?”
I rolled my eyes. “Next time.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized what I’d said. “I didn’t mean that. There won’t be a next time. That wasn’t the agreement, and we both know that—”