Go Deep: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (13 page)

T
alking
about the Thanksgiving break and planning to spend time together was all sweet and romantic when the break was still a couple of weeks out. Making that happen, however, was a whole other story.

First, Miranda came home with me for the holiday. Her jet-setting parents had flown to Scotland on some business trip that sounded more like a little vacation, leaving Miranda to figure out her own plans. It helped that she knew about Slade and me getting closer, but that didn’t mean I could just ditch her at my parents’ house to sneak off with Slade every chance I got. I needed to entertain her, keep her company and make her feel welcome at my house.

Then there was Shawn. He was mad as hell. Slade and I agreed to play it cool while his brother was in town. We weren’t looking to start any drama with him, but it was inevitable. He was my best friend and he didn’t approve of me hooking up with his big brother. At the same time, Slade and I were just starting to feel like a couple, and that meant we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. The last thing either of us wanted to do was go home and act like nothing was going on. Still, I knew I’d be walking on eggshells to avoid pissing off Shawn. I wasn’t sure why he was so upset with us getting together to begin with, unless there was something he wasn’t telling me. I had to confront him and get to the bottom of it, because I needed my best friend back.

We agreed to play it cool all around. Our parents didn’t need to know yet. I still had mixed emotions about following in my sister’s footsteps by hooking up with a football player who was likely to go pro, the way she had done with her husband. I still had a career I wanted to build. I didn’t want to let it go because my man was a big deal.

There was a lot on my mind, a lot to deal with when I walked back into the house with Miranda the night before Thanksgiving.

“Hi Mom,” I called out.

“Miranda! Come on in!” My mother said to her in her long, sweet tea Southern drawl. It was a bit embarrassing to hear, because it sounded just like all the exaggerated accents on bad TV movies. She gave Miranda a big hug, welcoming her into our home like she was family.

“Hey, Mrs. Greyson,” Miranda had said humbly. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Anytime, darling. How was your trip from the campus?”

“Mom, it was a thirty-minute drive over here. That distance doesn’t quite qualify it for a trip.”

“Okay, honey.”

“Where’s Dad? That reminds me, my car’s toast on campus. We got a ride up here with Slade. You think he’ll have time to take a look at it, maybe on Friday or Saturday?

“Of course, honey. We can’t have you all the way out there with no form of transportation. Your father’s upstairs. Cassidy, get Miranda settled then go spend some time with your sister. She’s in the sitting room. Miranda, you’ve met Caroline before, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Two Christmases ago when I was here.”

“Right! That was a nice visit too. Okay girls, I’ve got lots to do to be ready. Come down for a drink anytime.”

Mom went back to the kitchen while I showed Miranda the guest room beside mine upstairs. We dropped our things and returned downstairs to check on Caroline. My gut told me Mom wanted us to cheer her up. I was sure it had something to do with her man.

Caroline was in the sitting room, playing on her phone. Alone.

“Hey. When did you get in?” I asked her.

“This morning. Hi Miranda. How’s things?”

“Good. You?”

“All right.”

I had to ask. “So where’s your husband?”

“Not here. His team’s in the Thanksgiving lineup,” she told me, and I could see in her eyes that she had to fight to maintain her composure. As awesome as it was to be married to an NFL player, there were times when she had to play second fiddle to the game itself. That was pretty much all the time, and there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.

I didn’t want that to be me, and more so now that Slade and I were on our way to becoming an item. If things went that far with him, I couldn’t spend my life in his shadow. As we settled in the first night of break, my phone vibrated with a text from Shawn.

‘Happy Thanksgiving,’
it said.

‘Thanks. You too.’
I sent back. This was going to be awkward no matter how hard I tried, so I had to make the best of seeing him face to face. I added,
‘Can we talk?’

He replied with,
‘Yes. After dinner tomorrow.’

Good. That gave us the weekend to iron things out.

Miranda ended up in my room before bed, going on about having to hear Caroline whimpering in her bedroom. The two of us ended up dragging her out of there and into Miranda’s room, which was the only one of the three with a queen sized bed. God, Caroline was picky that night, wanting pillows to prop her up, ordering us to get her snacks from the kitchen, complaining about her sore feet. Seriously, she was a housewife. What kind of life did she have back at home for her to have become so demanding? Thankfully, after the second pickle she fell asleep, and Miranda soon after that. I was so looking forward to a room to myself, I snuck off to my room and slept in my own bed.

My parents were sentimental for sure. The place had not changed a bit. My room was still painted a cool grayish eggshell color, and everything was pretty much where I left it. Before drifting off, I looked into my overnight bag and found my purse. I walked over to the chest of drawers that were still a pale pink with rose embellishments on each drawer. Opening my little jewelry box, I pulled out the matching chain and strung it through the locket Slade had squirreled away for all those years. This would make for an interesting conversation piece at dinner tomorrow.

* * *

T
hanksgiving rolled around
, and the Greyson household had planned to have our holiday dinner early as usual. Dad wouldn’t have it any other way. The plans for early dinner got all the more important when Caroline’s husband started playing in the NFL. We’d eat at lunch time to be ready for the mid-afternoon game, and there was no negotiating or deviating from that plan. Ever.

Miranda and I helped Mom in the kitchen when we crawled out of bed around mid-morning. Our chores were pretty straightforward. Mom had started everything the second she woke up, so by the time we got down to start, all that was left was setting the dining room table, chopping up veggies and throwing together a few cold salads.

While we prepared our Thanksgiving lunch, my dad and Caroline sat in the living room watching the parade. It was a relief she had Dad with her. She wouldn’t dare whine about swollen feet or an aching back with him around. He’d probably tell her to toughen up and be more like her NFL-playing husband. Actually, I was kind of surprised he let her sit in there with him at all. He loved to cook, but always said that the kitchen work for holiday dinners was women’s work., I didn’t mind. It gave us something to do, and it was nice to have Miranda around, someone who wasn’t family and could help me feel normal around them.

When dinner was ready, we took our seats around the table in what Mom always called the fancy dining room, because we rarely ate there except for holidays and special family milestones. Dad announced it was time for grace, clearing his throat and bowing his head. He looked up for a second to make sure we were holding hands around the table. I had to shake my head because we only said grace in this room too, which was probably all of six or seven times a year.

“Dear Lord,” he started, “thank you for blessing us with this day, this meal and our family. May the food nourish our bodies as football does for our souls.” I heard Miranda let out a tiny chuckle, then she tried to cover it up by coughing a bit. “We thank you for allowing us all to come together again for another year, and for bringing Miranda to our table so that we may serve you by welcoming her into our home and teaching her the Christian way.” I was impressed that he let her off easy by not mentioning anything like rebuking demons or evil spirits this year. “We also pray that you will be with those who cannot join us in person. Watch over Caroline’s dear husband this year as he heads out onto the football field to do what you’ve called him to do, oh Lord. All this, in your name we pray. Amen.”

We each echoed the ‘Amen’ at the table, and then the serving plates and bowls were passed around as we dug into the meal. Dinner was great, and mostly silent because that was how this family always judged how good the food was. The better the food, the quieter the meal. It was dead silent until near the end, as we all drew closer to finishing.

“So, Miranda, tell us more about what it is you plan on doing with your degree,” my mother said when Dad put his fork down, signaling the chatter could begin. She was not just being polite. Mom was particularly fascinated by Miranda’s interest in anthropology.

Miranda finished what she was chewing and washed it down with a little sweet tea before answering. “Well, I’ve got another year after this one, and then I’ll be moving forward with a Masters in history, specializing in folklore and mythology. I’m excited about historical accounts of supernatural events in the Deep South, especially here in Louisiana. It’s so rich down here,” she said.

“Folk tales… hmmm. You need to be careful,” my father warned. That was no surprise to me. He lumped in all that stuff with what he called the Devil’s work. “You can get mixed up in all that voodoo and hoodoo if you ain’t careful.” He made a foreboding face with one eye squinting and the other eyebrow raised, like the crazy old skeptic he was at times.

Miranda smiled politely. “I’ve actually considered that. You know, once you get out of the cities and end up on some of these backroads down in South Louisiana, there’s no telling what kind of stories you’ll hear.”

“Well, that’s just fascinating,” my mother said, which was what she always said. “You’ll have to share some of these stories with us sometime.”

“I plan to,” Miranda said. “I look forward to having some stories to share next time…well, if I visit again.”

“I’ve got something to share,” Caroline said shakily. We all looked over at her. That was the tone of voice she used when she was announcing something big. My parents looked worried as hell, like she was about to say she was getting a divorce. From her teary-eyed expression, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

She had our attention, but she didn’t say anything at first.

“What do you have to tell us, honey?” Mom asked.

“I’m…I, uh. I’m pregnant!” she shouted.

Mom squealed with delight. “You’re having a baby? Oh my God, I’m going to be a Grandma! That’s just wonderful!”

“Well, I’ll be,” my dad said.

“Congratulations!” I told her, reaching over to give her a hug. “That’s awesome, Caroline.”

“Yeah, congrats!” Miranda agreed. “That’s a major deal. Hey! No wonder you were all weird last night. By the way, those pickles were awful.”

“I was wondering how come no one noticed,” she said, finally grinning.

“I’m just glad it wasn’t bad news,” I added. “That teary-eyed thing you did had me scared.”

As I stared into my sister’s eyes and rubbed her back, I realized that I could be looking at myself down the road, if Slade and I got really serious. My husband would be off playing a game that he probably loved more than his family, and I’d be stuck breaking epic news like this to everyone alone. I had hoped that Caroline would have owned her life more than she did. Maybe I was just projecting my worries onto her, but she seemed pretty upset that he wasn’t around for this trip home. In the NFL, there was so much going on that there was very little downtime anymore between seasons. For some players, football season was year round, depending on their responsibilities. Knowing Slade, he’d end up being one of those players.

After dinner, Miranda and I took care of cleanup and putting away leftovers.

In the sitting room, they were watching the second half of the early Thanksgiving Day game. Caroline and Mom were on the couch flipping through one of the parenting magazines Caroline had kept hidden until now, and Dad was in his recliner.

When everything was put away, Miranda announced she was going out on the porch for some fresh air and suggested that I should hang out with Caroline. That was a ploy. She always got this way when she felt she was intruding. I wanted to protest and tell her to stay inside with us. She’d practically become part of the family, but I knew her well enough to know not to push it when she said she needed alone time.

“When are you going next door to see Shawn?” Caroline asked after I came in and took the free armchair in the corner.

I was a fixture of Thanksgiving dinner at the Clark household every year. I had been going there for as long as I could remember, and Caroline never stopped teasing me about it.

“Yes. A little later on.”

“When are you two going to finally get married and have kids?”

“Don’t hold your breath. He’s not happy with us right now.” I covered my mouth, realizing I’d said too much. I had to figure out a simple reason for him to be upset with me.

She looked over at me. “What did you do? And who exactly is the
‘us’
you’re referring to?”