Page 32

Jamil

“Jamil!” my mother called from the living room. I’d just finished up a remote interview for one of Chicago’s local networks in my office. After my game yesterday, the requests for interviews had nearly tripled. Nico was sending me a new email almost every hour since the end of last night’s game.

“Coming! I just finished up an interview,” I called back as I came down the stairs.

The smell of my mother’s famous biscuits and gravy was wafting from the kitchen. My mouth was practically watering by the time I walked in. She was just finishing preparing a plate for me as I slid onto a barstool.

“Maybe you need to come visit more often if I’m going to be surprised with food every time I venture into the kitchen,” I told her as she set the plate down in front of me.

“I don’t get to do this for my kids very often anymore. It’s the least I can do for letting me stay here.”

“Mom.” I reached out to wrap my hand around her wrist before she could turn back around. “You don’t have to feel like you need to pay me back for me letting you stay here. You can stay here anytime you want without feeling like you have to make up for it.”

My mother gave me a soft smile and reached up to cup my cheek. “You’ve turned into a wonderful young man, J. I am so proud of you.”

This was all I ever wanted when I got drafted—to support my family after all the years of sacrifices my parents made.

“How was Jordan?” I asked cautiously as my mother started to clean up the dishes in the sink. After I’d dropped Harper back off at her apartment yesterday morning, I’d gone straight to the stadium to start warming up. Which left my mother to visit Jordan before the evening game.

Silence stretched for longer than what was expected if the visit had gone to my mother’s liking.

Her lips pressed together as she debated what she wanted to say.

“Jordan seems happier than the last time I saw him,” she started, her eyes still focusing on the soapy suds she was washing away on a pan.

“I thought something similar when I had him over earlier this week,” I agreed, still trying to wade the waters. When she didn’t respond right away, I cut right to the chase. “Mom, what are you thinking?”

“I ran into his therapist on my way out of the facility. You should have run that facility past me and your father. It is entirely too much for you to be paying for on your own.”

I sighed and set my fork down so I could focus on her. “Mom, that’s not of your concern. Jordan needed help, so I helped. Don’t worry about the money. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She reached for one of the dish towels to wipe her hands off before she finally continued.

“His therapist made a comment that Jordan still doesn’t seem to be making much progress in their meetings.

He was surprised to hear about how well his visit with you went and my short lunch with him.

He’s under the impression that Jordan hasn’t made much progress with his addiction. ”

The news was like the realization of a ticking time bomb in our midst counting down, the seconds left unknown.

Every worry I had about my brother was circling in my head, telling me that I was missing the signs again.

I was missing something important and if I didn’t figure it out, Jordan would only slip further away from us.

There was a harsh reality with professional sports.

With the amount of money that was at athletes’ fingertips, there was a risk for athletes just as much as there was a risk for their families.

Between signing bonuses and the eye-popping numbers listed on the contracts, most athletes and their families were underprepared to manage those kinds of assets.

My parents had tried to prepare me as best as they could for what was to come.

But what I hadn’t expected was for my brother to take advantage of my vulnerability for his own gain.

I had hoped that maybe one day, Jordan would care more about his relationships with all of us than the next big win.

“He never bothered to reach out to me before though,” I reasoned, still not willing to accept that Jordan was just playing another game. “That has to mean he’s making progress, right?”

My mother closed her eyes, the stress that all these years she’d had to worry about Jordan visible in the slope of her shoulders and the crease between her brows. Her hands wrapped around the edge of the sink with a white-knuckled grip.

“I hoped so when you called me, J. But now I wonder if I was being too hopeful at the time.” The pain laced in her voice reminded me of that very first phone call I had with her in my first year in the league when I had to tell her that Jordan had gotten himself in some trouble with a bookie and was lying bloody and bruised on the floor of my bathroom.

I could still hear the tears she had tried to hold back so I wouldn’t hear them, but the wobble in her voice was unmistakable.

I stood up from the barstool and walked around the island to pull her into my arms. “I’ll figure it out, Mom. I promise.”

“ We will figure it out, Jamil. I’m not letting you keep all of this from us anymore.

Your father and I aren’t weak. We can face the mistakes our son is making.

” My mother’s arms wrapped around my torso and squeezed.

Her words were like bullets tearing straight through the weak defenses I’d tried to erect over these past few months.

Tears sprung at the corners of my eyes, and I tried my hardest to keep them from falling.

“Eventually, Jordan will run out all the goodwill we’re willing to give him. ”

Gingerly, I pulled myself out of her grip. “We can’t give up on him.”

My mother scoffed. “I would never say that. But we can’t help someone who doesn’t want our help.”

“I won’t give up on him,” I told her fiercely as I slid back onto the barstool and picked my fork back up.

Jordan had been the one to teach me nearly everything I knew as a kid—how to ride a bike, how to swing a bat, even how to drive.

He never gave up on me when I struck out nearly every at-bat I had during my first season in baseball, and I wasn’t about to give up on him during the hardest moment in his life.

“Tell me about Harper.” My mother was a master at eloquently switching subjects.

Whatever happened between the two of them during the game yesterday was still a mystery to me.

My mother had teased me mercilessly on the way home from the stadium about flirting with Harper during another interview, but she remained close-lipped about if anything was discussed between the two of them.

“What do you want to know that you don’t already?” I asked as I dug into my food. I was surprised that she’d waited this long to put my feet to the fire, but between yesterday morning and the game, there hadn’t been time for her to question me yet.

“You like her.”

I ignored the teasing smile on her face. “That’s not a question.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” My mother flicked water at me. “What are you wanting from her?”

That dreaded question. I’d hoped that after the gala, I’d have an answer.

But by the end of the night, the only thing that was clear were our feelings for each other, which were now sitting out in limbo.

I’d allowed her to take the reins to decide on what this was or what she wanted it to be.

Apparently, that meant still being stuck in a constant state of unknown and I’d just gone with it.

“I don’t know, Mom.” I shoveled the remainder of my breakfast around my plate to avoid making eye contact. My mother always had a way of seeing the truth the moment she looked at you.

“Do you like her?” I wanted to roll my eyes at the triviality of the question. Anyone with two working eyeballs could see that I liked her, but I knew that wasn’t why my mother was asking. Her strategy was to lead a horse to water. Now where that water was, I had no idea yet.

“Of course I like her. I think that much is obvious.”

She leaned onto the island across from me, still trying to catch my gaze. “Then what’s the problem, J?”

“There’s just a lot going on in both of our lives right now.” The response was flimsy at best and I knew with one rebuttal, it would topple over.

“There’s always a lot going on in life, J. There will always be another story for her or another game for you. If that’s what the real problem is, then you’ll never be able to really commit to someone.”

For only a moment I thought the conversation was already over, blissfully short. But I should have known better when it came to Denise Edman.

“You do want to commit to someone, right?”

My eyes trailed to the pictures on my wall, filled with memories with my family.

A family that only existed because my parents had once been young and in love.

They were the perfect example of a healthy relationship for me and my siblings growing up.

Janessa had already followed in their footsteps, finding the love of her life and bringing little Kyla into the world.

Jayden was still dating, getting closer every day to finding her person.

It was only me and Jordan who struggled with relationships and I wasn’t sure what that said about either one of us.

“You and Dad have been the best example for all of us kids. If we’re lucky, we’ll all find a relationship like yours.”

My mother walked over to place a gentle hand on my cheek. “Honey, I’ll stop prying. Just know that your father and I want you to be happy. Whoever that may be with.”

I placed my hand on top of hers and gave her a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

“What do you have on your agenda for today?” my mother asked as she walked to grab the keys for my spare car.

“Should I be asking the same thing of you?”

“I’m going to stop by Jordan’s again and talk more with his therapist. Maybe I’ll sightsee some if it doesn’t take very long. Don’t you worry about me. What is it you’re doing?” She breezed over her plans and redirected the conversation back toward me fast enough to nearly give me whiplash.

“Harper has an interview with Nolan Hill and Adam Steel that I helped set up. I’m going to .?.?. supervise.” I didn’t miss the smirk on my mother’s face.

“You set the interview up for her?” she asked casually.

Alarms were going off in my head, telling me to stop now while I still could. The look on her face was the same one she gave us as kids when she was digging for information.

“It’s part of an agreement we have.” I tried to escape to my bedroom before my mother managed to get more information out of me than I was willing to give.

“And that is?” she called, stopping me before I could escape into the safety of my bedroom.

“I help her find interviews so she can impress her boss and get a promotion. Those interviews keep the attention off me and maybe will keep me out of the news as much as possible.”

I could tell she didn’t buy our arrangement for one second. Any sane person would see how lopsided it was.

“Are you sure Harper intends to keep you out of the news?”

My brow furrowed at my mother’s question. “She understands why I’m trying to keep a lower profile if I can. What are you trying to say, Mom?”

“Harper’s boss showed up at the game yesterday. He asked her about a feature story that he wants her to do .?.?. on you.” She slowly trailed off as she registered the look of confusion on my face, realizing that she had stumbled on something that I hadn’t known about.

“A feature story on me?” I asked her, wanting to make sure that I’d heard right.

“That’s what her boss mentioned,” my mother replied cautiously. “Has she not mentioned that to you?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. My mind spun its web of questions faster and faster until I couldn’t get myself out of it, stuck in the center of it all.

“No. She hadn’t mentioned it.” Somehow, I managed to give my mother a smile. “Have fun today. If you need me, give me a call.”

“Are you going to be okay?” she called after me, the familiar sound of worry that she normally reserved for Jordan laced in her voice.

“Sure, Mom. I’ll see you at the game later.” The words were hollow and both of us knew it, but my mother turned to leave without pressing the issue any further.

The truth was, suddenly I wasn’t sure if I was going to be okay.