Megan joins in at times, and I’m impressed with her understanding of the game. Sure, she grew up around it, but she could have focused on other things. Instead, it’s clear that she and her dad bonded over football — maybe because of losing her mom, or maybe she just loves it. Either way, it feels good.
After we place our orders, Mom turns her attention to Megan. “So Megan, dear,” she says, placing her hand on top of Coach’s arm as she starts. “Your father told me he wasn’t sure what brought you to town so suddenly, or how long you were planning to stay.”
Megan’s jaw tightens. Her friends are watching her with concern in their eyes. Coach sits up straighter in the booth and turns his attention to Megan too. Her happy mood is gone; she’s ripping apart a piece of bread but not eating any of it. My stomach tightens, and I wish Jason were here so I could kick his ass.
Mom hasn’t actually asked a question, but all eyes are on Megan, waiting for her to respond. When she doesn’t, Mom continues, “You have a fiancé in Omaha, don’t you, dear?”
“Mother,” Brock says in a warning tone.
“I did,” Megan finally says. “I don’t anymore.”
“Oh, dear,” Mom says.
Coach speaks up. “What happened, Megan?”
She takes a sip of water, and then says, “Well, I wasn’t feeling good Friday morning. I went back home and when I got there, I found Jason in bed with one of the Mammoths’ cheerleaders.”
Next to me, Brock makes a low growling sound under his breath. Megan told us her fiancé cheated on her, but we hadn’t heard the gory details.
“Oh my,” Mom says. Her eyes are filled with sympathy. She’s been there herself, but probably doesn’t want to share that at the moment.
Coach is silent as Megan continues. “Jason didn’t even apologize. I think he was only sorry that I found out. I packed my stuff and I was out of there in less than an hour.”
“You didn’t give him time to explain?” Coach asks.
Oh hell no. “What the fuck was there to explain?” I say before she can answer.
Coach gives me a sharp look, and it’s only then that I realize how I’ve just spoken to our team’s head coach. I look to my side to see Brock glaring across the booth, his expression as angry as my words.
Coach directs his attention back to his daughter. “You might have tried to work things out with him. Not run away.”
“You want her to work things out after he cheated on her?” Brock says, almost looking like he’s ready to rise from his seat.
“Brock,” Mom says, trying to soothe him.
Brock stares at her for a moment, and I can see that he’s trying hard to calm himself. He reaches for his glass and takes a drink as Coach looks at both of us and says, “There may be more to the story we don’t know yet, but I’m glad to see you both being so protective of Megan, as brothers should be.”
Brock nearly chokes on his water. Megan’s friends stare at the table, trying not to laugh. I can’t help but smirk, but I quickly put on a blank face as Coach looks back and forth between us with raised brows.
The waiter arrives to deliver our salads, and just after he leaves, a couple of fans stop by the table to congratulate us on the game. After the timely interruptions, Mom very purposefully steers the conversation in a different direction.
“Is your car really totaled?” she asks Megan.
“It is,” she says with a small sigh. “I’ll have to wait for the garage to make it official, but I’m sure it’s not worth repairing.”
“That’s a shame,” Mom says.
“On the other hand,” Zoe says, “that means you get to buy a new car. Score!”
“The insurance payoff won’t be very big for my rusty old clunker,” Megan says. “It probably won’t be enough to buy even a used one outright. I’ll get a loan when I find a job.”
Brock and I exchange a fleeting glance. That’s all it takes to know we’re both thinking the same thing. And Tara unwittingly helps us out. “What would you get if you could?” she says.
“If I won the lottery?” Megan says. “Something sporty. Maybe a Miata.”
“I’d buy a Corvette,” Zoe puts in. “A red one.”
“Hello, speeding tickets,” Tara says teasingly.
“What can I say?” Zoe counters. “Life’s too short to drive slow.”
The conversation drifts back to football and to the week ahead. As Coach launches into a discussion about the strengths and weaknesses of nearly all of the Omaha Mammoths players, I try to listen, but I catch Megan’s eye any time I can. She’s still upset after the conversation about her lousy ex, so I try to comfort her from across the table.
She just picks at her salad, not really eating, and I wish like hell I could put my arm around her and hold her until she’s feeling better. But I can’t. Not right now. With some winks and eye rolls, I manage to get her smiling by the time the entrees arrive, and I’m glad to see that she finally eats.
Anytime You’re Ready
Brock
It takes real effort to get through lunch without saying something to Coach Turner that I’ll later regret.
He’s earned my respect by being a fair and knowledgeable coach, so the dickish comments he makes to his daughter take me by surprise. If it wasn’t for pleading looks from Megan, and warning nudges from my brother, I’d happily tell him off.
Instead, I focus on my food and try to be pleasant to fans who stop by the table. A couple of blondes come over and ask for autographs, and it’s not until one of them brushes against me and pushes her tits into my arm that I realize they’re coming on to Cody and me. I smile politely, but I have zero interest in them.
The sexy, curvy redhead across the booth from me is the only action I’m looking for.
When I get over Coach’s comments, I have some fun tormenting Megan in the subtle little ways I can, at a table too crowded with our parents and her friends.
“This pasta is mega del-i-cious,” I say, as I give her a meaningful look. She tries to ignore me while her friends lapse into a giggling fit like they’re thirteen. It puts me in a better mood pretty quickly.
After we all decline dessert, Mom says, “What’s everyone doing later?”
“Megan,” I say. I follow her name with a long pause before I continue. “What are you doing this evening? Did you get your stuff from storage yet?”