Page 51 of Hell Bent

“Quite possibly,” I said serenely. “And you know what we should do on the way home?”

He looked at me suspiciously. “What?”

“Go to the grocery store. It looked like you opened all Sebastian’s cupboards last night, trying to find something you wanted to eat. I’ve noticed that he tends to eat extremely healthfully, and I can’t believe you were actually dying to eat all his dried mangoes, which you did, or his protein shakes with extra spinach. I get it. It’s not easy for a woman to enjoy her chocolate milkshake when the guy’s drinking a carton of milk and only eating half his fries, either. Let’s go to Trader Joe’s and buy all the food we can carry, because I suspect we’re kindred spirits. I can show you where the store is that way, too, which means you’ll be able to go yourself later.”

“I don’t know anything about that store,” he said. “And I don’t have any money.”

“I do,” I said. “I also have faith in Sebastian paying meback. Wait and see. You are going to findsomany things there that you want to eat. After that, I’m going to use that shower of yours, so I hope you cleaned it decently. I refuse to shower in vomit.”

“Gross. I didn’t puke in theshower.And why would you take one anyway?”

“Excellent news on the not puking,” I said. “Because I’m going to be sweaty, that’s why. I’d rather not actually stink when I go out to dinner.”

“Oh,” Ben said.

“If you take yours first,” I said, “you can wash away any vomit traces you missed. Win-win.”

21

FIND HER WINGS

Sebastian

I skipped most of the postgame meal as usual, because, first, I wasn’t burning any thousands of calories during a game, and second, I was taking Alix to dinner. I got out of there as fast as I could, in fact, either despite or because of a level of focus on me that just felt weird. It had been one tackle.One.I didn’t need All-Pro Owen Johnson congratulating me on my one tackle. Right now, he was telling me, “Coach might tell you tomorrow that you shouldn’t be tackling. That he can’t afford for you to be injured.”

“Well, that’ll suck,” I said. “Especially since Adair would’ve scored otherwise. Also, I enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “Coach is the last word, but if you don’t mind hearing it—if you’re going to be tackling, work on your technique some. You got lucky that time.”

“What did I do wrong?” I asked.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his hands, palms out. “I’m not critiquing you. Not my job. That’s up to the coaches.”

“I’m not being defensive,” I said. “I want to know. Give me your feedback.”

“Keeping in mind that I’m not really a tackler,” he said. “Blocker, that’s me.”

I made a hurry-up motion with my hand. “I guarantee that you’ve tackled a thousand times more than I have. Tell me.”

“Head position,” he said. “You want to hit with your shoulder and keep your head to one side. You hit him straight-on with your helmet, and you’re looking at a potential spinal cord injury. You were too straight-on.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks.”

“You’ll see for yourself when you watch the film.” That was Kristiansen. “Always humbling, seeing what was wrong with your big moment.”

“Now that I know what I’m looking for, I will,” I said. “Thanks, man,” I told Owen.

“How’s it going with your nephew?” he asked.

I hesitated, not sure how to answer, and Kristiansen said, “What nephew?”

“Came yesterday,” I said. “To live with me. That’s the one where I’m going to need advice. I don’t have a clue, and you could say he’s not excited about the change. Your sister’s with you, though,” I remembered. “Just lately, or …”

“A couple of years now,” Kristiansen said. “But it sounds like a different situation. All Annabelle wanted was to get away from home.”

“Oh,” I said. “OK, then.”

“She was pretty shut down, though,” Kristiansen added. “Beforeandafter the move. Trauma, I guess.”