Gritting his teeth, he wanted to kick the ball all the way across town, but he controlled his temper and gently sent it back to Lottie.
She stopped it with her foot. “You want me to tell you what I see?”
He crossed his arms across his chest. “Can I stop you?”
Ignoring him, she said, “You wanted your dad’s approval. What boy wouldn’t? Especially one who didn’t grow up with a father figure.”
He forced a smirk. “Are you saying I have daddy issues?”
“Yes,” she said succinctly, shooting the ball back at him—hard.
He sent it up in front of him with his foot, juggling it on his knee a couple times before putting it to rest on the ground. “Okay, you may be right about that.”
She snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You don’t know that my dad has a temper, and he takes it out on Kofi.” He forced himself to calm down, so the ball wouldn’t shoot off. “I invited Kofi to come see me play in person over a year ago, and my dad came too. If I kick my dad out, Kofi will be at his mercy.”
Lottie put her hands on her hips, looking outraged. “How old is Kofi?”
“Twenty-three.”
“So he’s a man.”
He huffed a mirthless laugh. “Kofi is a boy. I’ve been trying to help him find his way, but our dad keeps supplanting that.”
“Which is one of the reasons you’re so hesitant about forcing them out.”
“My father will lose face if I send them all away.” He thought of the mound of drugs in his living room and winced. “But I’m afraid of the consequences of them staying.”
“Hmm.”
“I’ve texted Kofi a few times in the past week, but he hasn’t answered,” he admitted. “I’m worried.”
“Hmm.”
He waited for her to say something more.
Instead, she suddenly attacked, coming and stealing the ball away from him. She hooted with delight as she slowly dribbled it away.
Eyes narrowed, he went after her. He stole the ball back, careful not to play too hard. She tried to get the ball back from him but he evaded her smoothly, jutting to the right. Then, because it was more fun that way, he let her get the ball, loving the way she crowed in triumph.
Then she said, “You see the goal line?”
He looked over to where she was pointing. “Yeah.”
“You’re used to defending it, and that makes sense, because you’re looking at someone else’s goal. But what do you want to do if you’re looking atyourgoal?”
He wanted to go for it. He stole the ball out from under Lottie and shot it where it needed to go.
“Attaboy!” Lottie cheered. She clapped her hands. “Give it to me again.”
They went back and forth slowly. He didn’t know if it was the grass under his feet or the crisp fall air or the convivial company, but he suddenly realized he was grinning. Feeling buoyed, he laughed.
“Feels great, doesn’t it?” Lottie said from where she’d been standing. “Feels like winning, right?”
“Right.” Grinning, he came to a stop before her.
“Get your cell phone out.” She nodded at his pocket. “Call and order those people out of your house.”