Completing the Pass (3 page)

“Look at these two.” Maeve walked in, arm in arm with Josh's mother, Gail. The two had been inseparable since they'd met at a playgroup for twelve- to twenty-four-month olds. Carri had been on the young end and Josh on the old. But the two mothers had formed a fast relationship, having experienced their first childbirth, first round of diapers and bottles and sleepless nights. Their only children, for both moms, as it turned out, and they'd even bonded over that.

“It's like old times, isn't it?” Gail beamed at Josh. He gave her a weak smile back. “You two catching up?”

“Yeah, just picked right back up where we left off,” Carri said, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Josh bit back a laugh. She had claws and knew where to sink them in . . . but she'd always had a knack for the deadpan. That definitely hadn't changed.

“Oh, look at these flowers!” Maeve gushed as she hustled over to the side table Josh had left his arrangement on. They were a little overdone, but when the man you consider a father is in the hospital,
overdone
doesn't seem like such a sin. “They just brighten the room right up. Carri, come look at these. Josh, you shouldn't have.”

“You shouldn't have,” Carri echoed, walking up beside her mother and sliding a smaller vase of flowers around to sit in front of his offering.

Hers, he assumed.

“How about you two go get some coffee?” Maeve said, hugging Carri from the side. Gail walked up behind him and patted him on the shoulders.

“Yes, go. Go chat about young-people things.”

“I just got coffee with you,” Carri said through her teeth. “And I have a soda now.” She held up the bottle as evidence, as if anyone was going to call her a liar. “Thanks anyway. I'll just—”

“Yeah, let's get some coffee.” Josh stood, suddenly eager to needle her a bit more. It had been a favorite pastime of his as a kid . . . Couldn't hurt to pick the hobby back up as a distraction. “C'mon Carri, I won't bite.”

Both the mothers giggled. They had that effect on each other. They could be conniving, manipulative mother hens one minute and giggly school girls the next.

“I want to stay with Dad.” Her face set in a mulish expression Josh knew all too well, Carri crossed her arms again and planted her feet. “Thank you for coming by, Gail.”

Message received.
I'm not thanking you, Josh.
You can go now.

Josh sighed and reached for her arm, intending to gently tug her with him into the hall. “I—”

“No!”

They all whirled around at Herb's exclamation. The old man thrashed in the bed, waving his arms and trying to pull out his IV. “Don't you hit her! Don't you touch my little girl! Get away from her!”

“Herb!” Maeve rushed at him, trying to hold him down. Gail ducked out into the hallway, assumedly to get help. Carri froze, hand covering her mouth.

“Daddy!” she called out. “Dad, it's okay! It's Josh. Josh Leeman.” Coming unfrozen, she grabbed Josh, pulling him close to her, wrapping an arm around his back and placing a hand flat against his chest. “Remember?”

The sudden burst of sensation at his body being so tight against Carri's warred with the real and visceral fear for Herb as Maeve fought to keep him from leaping out of bed . . . and the uncomfortable knowledge that for much of his life, Josh had fought against touching her, for fear of cooties.

Herb's eyes were wild and he glanced around the room. As if the wind had been sucked out of him, he slumped, half on Maeve, half onto the bed. Carri brushed past Josh to help her mother angle him back into bed just as a male nurse bustled in.

“Okay there, Mr. Gray. Let's get you settled back in bed now.”

“I don't know you,” Herb said, sounding almost childlike with fear and wonder. “I don't . . . I don't . . . Maeve.”

“I'm right here, sweetheart.” Maeve cupped his face, not breaking eye contact.

Josh looked to his mother, hovering in the doorway. Quiet tears tracked down Gail's face, one hand over her heart as if to keep it from breaking.

And he suddenly understood.

Herb wasn't just here because of a bad sunburn.

Carri felt a hand take hers and pull gently. She followed without thinking, giving her mother and the nurse some space to decompress and help her father.

It wasn't until she sank into one of the plastic chairs in the hallway outside her father's room that she realized it was Josh who had smoothly led her away and sat quietly beside her. A kind gesture for a mortal childhood enemy.

“Mom,” Josh said softly, then something else followed, but Carri couldn't hear anything more. She was too busy covering her ears to drown out the sounds of her father's sobbing and her mother's pleas to calm down.

Josh's large hand rubbed at her back. A decade ago—hell, forty-eight hours ago—she would have shrugged it off. Memories of a time when his touch would have made her skin crawl were impossible to forget. Now she was too tired to care whose hand it was. Too in need of the comfort, even if it came from someone she didn't particularly care for.

After a few minutes, fingers carefully pried her hand from one ear. “Carri. He isn't just sunburnt, is he?”

She shook her head, letting the other hand fall to her lap.

“How long?”

“Mom says months.” She shrugged. “But signs could have been there before now, and she just didn't realize. He's been home alone often since he retired.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” When she whirled around to glare at him, she was surprised to find no judgment waiting for her in his eyes. “Just asking.”

“Christmas last. I don't remember him seeming off . . .” But then she did. How he'd handed her several of the gifts meant for Maeve, clearly marked on the packages. How more than once, he'd called her by her mother's name. She'd chalked it up to too much eggnog at the time, but what if . . . “Oh, God. How did I miss it?”

Josh's hand simply kept rubbing in circles.

Another minute later, Maeve walked out, her face red, eyes down. Gail immediately wrapped her in a hug. Carri's heart clenched to see the two best friends cling to each other. It had been like that when Josh's father had abandoned his family. The mothers had clung to each other, easing the pain and becoming a port in the storm. Maeve had become Gail's safe place, her rock.

Was she witnessing the same thing, from the other side this time? From Josh's seat?

“Josh,” Gail said softly, “I'm taking Maeve home. Can you make sure Carri gets back okay?”

“Sure,” he said before she could shake her head no.

“I don't need—” Carri began.

“I've got her,” he cut in.

“Your father is resting,” Maeve mouthed over Gail's shoulder as she let her friend lead her away.

“Oh, God.” Carri let her face sink into her hands. After another minute, she realized he was still beside her. “Josh, you don't have to stay.”

“Yeah, I do.”

The support came from the most unlikely place, and she wanted desperately to cling to it without being obvious. “I know you love him, too.”

“Yeah.”

She waited for a barb, a childish retort of
and he loves me better than you.
Something a nine-year-old Josh would have said. But nothing came.

The nurse stepped out of her father's room, and she stood. Josh stood beside her. “Is he . . . When will he wake up?”

The nurse checked his wrist, looking a little hurried. Too many patients to see, too many charts to finish, not enough time to do it all, Carri could only imagine. “Hopefully not until tomorrow morning. I know you were hoping to take him home tomorrow first thing, but after this, he'll need to be rechecked.”

“I understand,” she whispered as the nurse nodded briskly and took off for another room. “Damn it.”

“Places to go?” Josh asked mildly.

He could always do that. Say something in the most mild of tones, but make it sound completely condescending or insulting. Or maybe that was just the internal filter she played all his comments through.

“I could ask the same of you. Why don't you go play a game of pickup or something,” she retorted. She walked carefully into her father's room, but he was out cold. She could have marched through the hall blaring a fog horn and he wouldn't have stirred. Picking up her purse from the table with the flowers, she tossed it over her shoulder and headed out with a mental promise to come back in the morning before breakfast.

“Hey, hey, hold on.” Josh caught her arm as she speed-walked to the lobby. “I'm sorry. Not sure why I'm griping at you right now. I know this sucks.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and she watched him for a moment. For once, he seemed genuinely sorry. “Okay.”

“So, are you staying with your parents?” he asked as she kept walking. His long legs kept up with hers easily. “Or did you get a hotel?”

“Mom and Dad's house. Just easier, since I didn't know how long I'd be here.”
And also I can't afford to waste a dime thanks to the unplanned vacation.
“You don't live with your mom, right? You're in an apartment?”

“Economy style, yeah. Rented furniture, the whole nine yards. A lot of guys live there, so it's not bad. Few guys with their wives, too. They're all one-bedroom units, though, so no families. At least none that I know of.” He ducked his head down a little as they passed two women in the parking lot giving him the side eye. Carri wondered if they were giving him a second glance because they followed football, or because he was a good-looking guy.

Not that she wanted to admit it. Because, well, it was Josh. She'd never give his ego the satisfaction.

Carri froze halfway across the parking lot. “Mom drove me this morning. I . . . don't have a car. I'm an idiot.”

“This way.” Josh turned her shoulders and started walking back the opposite direction. When he stopped in front of a boring sedan, she blinked.

“This is you?”

“Hey, it's a good car. Lots of safety features.” When she raised her brows at him over the top of the car, he shrugged. “Fine. My mom upgraded and gave me her old wheels.”

It definitely had a more “Gail” feel than a “Josh” vibe. Naturally, he didn't open her door for her, so she climbed in herself. They were way past all that. As he backed out, she looked around. “You keep it in better shape than you used to keep your car in high school.”

“My mom would slaughter me if she found fast-food wrappers in her baby. She still loves this car, which is why I took it, even though she knew it was time to upgrade.”

For all his faults, Carri admitted silently—and he had a few—Josh had always been a fantastic son.

And that was where the positives ended.

***

The morning after seeing Carri again for the first time in years, Josh found himself back in the Bobcats HQ office. This time with Coach Barnes and Trey, whose ankle was in a thick Aircast. He kept it propped up on a second chair and seemed to be without pain, but Josh winced anyway as he sat down beside him. “Hey, dude. Nice accessory.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Trey shrugged. “Apparently I'm a natural athlete, except sports that lift you off the ground. Who knew?”

“How's Cassie?”

At that, Trey's eyes lit up. He'd never actually seen another man's eyes light, but that's exactly what happened with Trey's. “She's awesome. The time away was good . . . you know, until . . .” Trey gestured to his leg, then looked at his left hand, as if still getting accustomed to the plain platinum band he wore on his finger. “Still takes me a second to remember she's mine forever. Crazy.”

Crazy
was one word for it. Josh had nothing against the sanctity of marriage, even assumed he'd get around to it one day soon-ish. Or maybe not so soon-ish. But there was no woman he could imagine putting up with day after day. Even his teammates wore on him after a while during the season. It was good to have the break.

“You head home for off season?” Trey asked conversationally. “Wait, no, you live here year-round.”

“Yup. Born and raised. The rest of you are the outsiders.” Josh grinned at Trey. “But yeah, I've been spending some time with my mom.” And would be making a more conscious effort to pop in to see Herb and Maeve, too, when he could remember.

How long would Carri be there? Maybe he should double check her schedule first before doing any popping in. Their bickering wouldn't be good for Herb's mental state and recovery. And for whatever reason, they just couldn't seem to stop picking at each other. It was as if they got around each other and emotionally reverted two decades.

Except when he'd seen her, for a moment, his brain hadn't seen the annoying neighbor kid who had been a thorn in his side for most of childhood and had seen a woman, delicate in her grief, beautiful in her quiet way.

That . . . had to stop. Because Carri was the type of person to take even the hint of weakness and twist it to her advantage.

“Gentlemen.” Coach Barnes strode in, looking pissed at the world. “We've got ourselves quite the clusterfuck here.”

Trey looked mildly entertained at the coach's gruff demeanor. Josh wasn't as easily amused. The guy was a real ballbuster, but Trey had borne the brunt of the weight last year. Josh had mostly followed along behind him, picking up plays and being on standby. Not that Trey had even needed him. Josh had played fewer than twenty minutes the entire season last year . . . and that was mostly fine with him.

Coach Barnes let his file folder slap down flat on the table, then shoved himself into a chair and began shifting through the papers silently. Josh glanced at Trey. Were they supposed to speak? Was this how the meetings always went? Josh hadn't been invited to these one on ones before. Was this going to be something he had to look forward to for the new season?

Get well soon, Trey, for the love of God.

“Trey, you're to follow every single mandate from your trainers, your doctors, your massage therapist, and your bloody psychic. If someone has an ounce of credibility in getting you back to one hundred percent, you follow their lead. Got it?” Barnes didn't even look up, though Trey nodded and shrugged. “Leeman, you . . . Christ.” He shook his head as if not even sure where to begin.

Yeah, they were both thinking the same thing.

“We need to start getting you out there. You're our new face. The team needs to see you as a confident leader going into training camp.”

“And I do that . . . how?” Josh asked, honestly curious.

“You'll need to be seen more. You've taken a backseat before, doing the minimum amount of charity required by the team. You'll have to double it. Take on his lion's share,” Coach added, using his pen to gesture at Trey. “He's going to be laying low. We don't want the media finding out until it's inevitable. It's a miracle they haven't picked up on something already. So start getting familiar with it.”

With . . .
it
?

“He means the pressure,” Trey mock whispered. Coach Barnes shot them a narrow look, as if one of the nuns had caught two altar boys whispering during a sermon.

“I mean
all
of it. Start getting used to the media attention, the attention from fans, and the questions you're going to get. I'll have Simon start working with you, brief you on how to answer questions if anyone has curiosity about Trey, but mostly you are there to play happy-happy backup. We want the team to see a guy willing to step up and the media to see a guy who is someone to count on. Got it?”

For the first time since he'd graduated college, Josh realized the weight of a team's success was once again resting on his shoulders. Even if it was just preseason. “Isn't this a little much? I mean, it's just a sprain. He'll be back soon and—”

“Just a sprain?” The words were quietly whispered, to the point that Josh almost didn't hear Coach Barnes. “Just a sprain. Right. Well, what's holding you back, Trey? Get on out there and kick some ass!”

The last was roared at them. Trey merely smiled. Josh wondered if now was a good time to make a break for it.

“Do the work, be noticed, learn the ropes.” Coach slammed his folder shut and glared. “You're the backup. Do what backups do.” With that little nugget of wisdom, he left.

“That was pleasant,” Trey said mildly.

“Do what backups do,”
Josh repeated. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means the understudy is being shoved out onstage because the star is busy puking up his hangover in the wings. Start acting the part.” Trey slapped a hand on Josh's shoulder as he stood. The man walked, but with a limp. “Welcome to the shit show, my friend.”

***

Carri finished setting the table and pulled the vibrating cell phone out of her pocket at the same time. “Carrington Gray—”

“Has abandoned me to hell on earth, also known as renter drama.”

“Jess.” With a sigh, Carri ducked into her father's home office. It was a total wreck, with stacks of papers leaning precariously against one another, one finger flick away from disaster. “Is something wrong?”

“Tenant C is wanting to move out early. I sent you an e-mail stating their claim. Basically, it says they both lost their jobs within three weeks of each other and can't afford the rent anymore. I guess they're moving in with a relative or something. They didn't come right out and say it, but in reading between the lines, I think they were saying they will just have to stop paying rent pretty soon. So, whatever.”

Carri glanced around the seventies-inspired shag carpet, which was mostly covered with cardboard boxes and a huge desk made out of a thick slab of wood balanced on two miniature filing cabinets. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Anyway, they want to break the lease early because they can't afford to keep paying, but they can't pay the termination fee, either.”

Carri rubbed at her forehead. “Tell them that we will terminate the lease when we find a new renter. They're under contract, and I'm holding them to it, but if we can get someone in there before their old contract is up, then we'll terminate without a penalty and won't come after them for the difference.”