Page 24 of You, Again

I snort-laughed. “They don’t need me.”

“What if they did, though? What if they needed an image boost, and you were the guy they were talking about? What if they paid you a shitload of dough for a year? What if that deal won you endorsement extensions? We’re talkin’ big money, Kimbo. Many, many millions. You could be in LA, near Sienna—”

“Hey, thanks, but…I retired for a reason.” I sighed. “I wanted to end my career on a high note instead of a sad statistic or the old guy who doesn’t know when the party’s over.”

“You know I respect that, but maybe the party isn’t over. I’m giving you the 4-1-1. I have eyes and ears all over. You’re popular, and you still have something to add to the game. I’m talking to Mitch Campbell, and he’s fired up about you.”

“Gary…”

“Just think about it.” He let a poignant pause fill the silence, then blurted, “Hey…did I tell you about my new golf clubs? I’m taking them for a test drive in Torrey Pines next month. We’re staying at the…”

I tuned him out. I supposed it was nice to have an NHL option, but it was a ludicrous case of capitalizing on one last hurrah. I didn’t need more money. I didn’t need the accolades. Don’t get me wrong…I’d never forget the rush of hearing my name chanted in a filled-to-capacity arena. But how many curtain calls did a retiring athlete need or deserve? When the game became all about the money, was it even a game anymore? Or was it just a job?

Whatever. I didn’t have the heart to burst McD’s bubble and hell, maybe I’d change my mind. But at this very moment, I couldn’t help thinking I needed something new.

Or something old.

Something I could only get here.

6

NOLAN

Mary-Kate wedged herself next to me in the hammock, kicked her skinny legs over mine, and opened her book.

“This isAnne of Green Gables. I’m on chapter four,” she reported.

“That’s great. I thought you were readingBlack Beautynext.”

“I finished it. So good! Nana surprised me and bought me both books.”

“She knows you well.”

Mary-Kate was a pixie sprite seven-year-old with shoulder-length straight brown hair, hazel eyes, glasses, and the biggest smile this side of Lake Champlain. She was Ronnie’s only child, my only niece, and my mother’s only grandchild, which made her more special to the Moore clan than her near-genius IQ.

No joke. Mary-Kate was a voracious learner. She soaked up information like a sponge. Math, science, English…while her classmates were struggling with basic addition and subtraction, Mary-Kate had moved on to fractions and word-solving problems the kids two grades ahead of her were tackling.

And don’t get me started on reading and writing. She had a wild imagination and had already written a few very good short stories. Her favorite subjects were animals—usually horses and dogs. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be an author, an astronaut, or a vet, but she wanted to figure it out by her tenth birthday. We suggested that she might want to keep her options open, though she knew she’d always have our full support no matter what she eventually chose to do.

The only thing Mary-Kate showed zero interest in was hockey, much to my brother’s chagrin. She knew how to skate, of course—that was practically a compulsory skill in our family. In fact, she was pretty damned good at it. But she hated going to the rink, refused to join the Pee Wee team, and didn’t like watching games.

To each their own. But it made summers hard on my brother. Thankfully, she liked hanging out with my mom or sometimes at the diner with me. As long as she had a book in her hand, she was happy.

She twirled her hair around her finger. “Can I read to you?”

“Of course.” I sat up to sip the foam from my beer before it sloshed on both of us.

Mary-Kate’s melodic voice drifted along with the host of cousins and old friends mingling in my mom’s backyard. It was a perfect summer day. Sunshine, blue skies, and just the right amount of breeze to keep it from getting too hot and sweaty. I could easily nod off and—

I jerked upright when a boisterous cheer broke the quiet vibe. I didn’t need two guesses to figure out who’d arrived.

Sure enough, Mom’s guest of honor sauntered into the yard a moment later, looking better than anyone should in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian-print button-down shirt. I watched Vin make the rounds, hugging my mother, fist-bumping and hugging Ronnie, our cousin Clay, his wife, and the usual crew of relatives.

Mom had wanted to invite some of our high school friends too, but I’d gently reminded her that her Sunday dinner would escalate into a full-fledged blowout with fifty-plus people if she wasn’t careful.

“Is that my dad’s friend?” Mary-Kate asked, slipping the green ribbon she was using as a bookmark into place and closing her book.

“Yeah. That’s Vinnie.”