“Naomi doesn’t think Tina broke in. She’s worried Way let Tina in. Worried how that’ll play in the guardianship shit.”
Nash blew out a breath. “Any judge that looks at those two sisters and decides Naomi isn’t fit has their robe on too tight.”
“She’s a worrier. Which is why I don’t want her worrying about some stranger sneakin’ into her home and going through her things.”
“Better the devil you know,” he said.
I nodded.
“Speaking of, you going to see him this weekend?” Nash asked.
Deliberately I took another forkful of cobbler even though my appetite was suddenly gone. “If he’s there.”
“Give him this from me.” Nash limped over to the table and picked up a backpack. “And maybe think about not handing over cash.”
“You’re lucky I’m tired of fighting about this,” I told him and took the bag.
“People keep telling me how lucky I am,” he said.
“You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“You remember what she was wearing when she walked by your window,” he said, nodding at the bathroom door.
“Yeah. So?”
“She means something to you.”
“Does blood loss make you stupid?” I wondered.
“I’m just sayin’, you care about her. Any other woman you wouldn’t have bothered calling her on her own bullshit. You wouldn’t have known any other woman well enough to know she was bullshitting you, let alone care that she was.”
“Getting to your point any time soon?”
“Yeah. Don’t fuck it up like you usually do.”
THIRTY-THREE
A SWIFT KICK
Naomi
“Why do kids’ sports start at such ungodly hours? And why is the grass so wet? Look at these shoes. They’ll never recover,” Stef complained as we set up our folding chairs on the sideline of the soccer field.
“It’s nine in the morning, not four a.m.,” I said dryly. “Maybe if you and Liza hadn’t made and then drank an entire pitcher of margaritas last night, you wouldn’t be cringing like a vampire at the light of day.”
He collapsed into his chair, looking impossibly stylish in Raybans and a thick knit sweater. “It was my last night in town before my trip to Paris. I couldn’t say no to margaritas. Besides, it’s easy to be Suzy Sunshine when you’re getting laid regularly.”
“Zip it, Betty Big Mouth,” I said, shooting a look at the rest of Waylay’s cheering section. My parents were sitting with Liza, who didn’t seem any the worse for wear for her half of the margaritas. Mom was doing her mom thing and introducing herself to everyone in a twenty-foot radius, asking them the names of their players and proudly pointing out Waylay in her number six jersey.
Wraith, badass biker and silver fox, strode down the sideline. He was wearing a Metallica t-shirt, black jeans, and a scowl perfectly framed by his gray Fu Manchu mustache. “Looking lovely as always, Liza,” he said with a wolfish smile.
“Peddle that charm someplace else, biker boy,” she shot back. But I noticed two dots of color on her cheeks.
“Bring it in, Knock ’Em Outs,” Wraith bellowed. Fifteen girls in all shapes, sizes, and colors jogged and skipped their way over to the unlikely head coach.
“That guy looks like a probation violation, not a girls soccer coach,” Stef observed.
“That’s Wraith. His granddaughter Delilah is the one with the pigtails. She plays forward. She’s unbelievably fast,” I told him.