Page 62

*

Sebastian’s name popsup on my screen halfway through my shift at Fishtail, earning me a sidelong look from Judy. “Take ten,” she tells me, serving a group of kids who came in half-hammered already. “But not a minute more. I’m already down one bartender from the stomach flu.”

I answer the phone as I head into the breakroom, taking a cup of fountain soda with me because the Coca-Cola kind is superior to the bottles. Unless it’s the glass bottles. I sell out the Dollar Store every time I see they have them stocked.

“Hey, big brother,” I greet. “Which would you rather; fountain Coke or the Coke you get in glass bottles?”

“Fountain,” he answers with no hesitation. “But it has to be the McDonald’s kind.”

I take a long sip of my drink. “Really?”

“Really. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

I plop down at the table covered in newspapers that it looks like somebody dissembled for the crossword puzzle. My money is on Jim. “Is everything okay? Did you get somebody else pregnant and marry them too?”

His sigh is heavy, telling me to shut up. “No, I didn’t. Christ. When are you going to let that go?”

“Never. So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. I wanted to see if you had time to come to New York for a pre-season event. It’s a party with the team and their friends and families. Mom said she couldn’t make it, but I figured you’d be interested.”

I’m not surprised Mom wasn’t interested in that. She’ll go to home games if they’re close enough, but she’s not a big fan of afterparties. She told me she was too old for that, and me mentioning how one of Sebastian’s teammates likes older women didn’t seem to help any.

“When is it?” I ask, biting down on the plastic straw and absentmindedly scroll through my phone. “I’ll have to make sure I’m not on the schedule here, but I’ll come if I can.”

He tells me the date and time and goes on about other people who will be there. I know he’ll remind me at least five other times before the actual event, so I don’t pay that much attention. Especially when he starts talking about food allergies and dress attire. I mean, seriously? Since when does his team dress up for a party? I’ve seen them in suits on game day, or the rare times they go to charity events, but that’s it.

“…going with you?”

I realize I spaced out reading funny memes about dogs and didn’t hear his question. “What?”

“Is anyone going with you?” he repeats.

My brows pinch. “Who would go with me? You already said Mom didn’t want to. Am I required to have a plus one? Follow up, is it required to be human? Because there’s this stray dog who sometimes follows me and—”

“Absolutely not. Do you remember that mutt you snuck into the house when you were eleven? It had fleas and they got everywhere.”

I wince. Mom was not happy. “I thought she would let me keep it,” I murmur. She didn’t.

When she found it hiding under my bed after one day, the damage was done. Who knew fleas spread that quickly? I didn’t. She needed to hire someone to come clean the carpets. And the rest of the house. I’d been grounded for weeks.

“Well don’t get any ideas,” he tells me firmly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “And I wasn’t asking for me. Hoffman wanted to know. He said Coach told him everybody needed to submit who they were bringing by Friday so they’d have enough seating.”

Bodhi wanted to know? “I didn’t realize Hoffman was the coach’s messenger.”

My brother makes a noise. “Me neither. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Nibbling the inside of my cheek, I find myself slowly shaking my head. Unlike Alex, my brother doesn’t need to know anything. “No. Nothing. And I have no plans on bringing somebody. So you can tell him to tell the coach that.”

Sebastian is quiet for a long moment, making me uncomfortable. “There’s something you should know about Bodhi, Olive.”

Alarm rings in my ears, but I remain quiet because I don’t trust my voice.

“He’s got a kid.”

I blink.

Think about those four words.