by G. K. Brady
He drooped with an added helping of guilt. “The team went out to dinner, and we ran late. I didn’t want to text and wake you up.”
Her eyebrows arched, and a little smile played across her face. “What was her name?”
His spine went ramrod straight. Why was it his mother could still make all his defenses snap into place? With one look, one word. “Who?”
“The girl you brought back here. The one you just took home.”
Shit! “Does it matter?”
“Not if it doesn’t matter to you, and I’m guessing it doesn’t. I take it I won’t be meeting this one either.”
He ran his hand over the back of his head to mask the squirming inside his body.
“You’re fidgeting.” A hint of amusement laced her words.
“You’re not helping,” he fired back. “And what do you mean by you won’t be ‘meeting this one either’?”
She flipped her hand. “You never introduce me to your girlfriends. Not that I could keep them straight if you did. I’d need a color-coded chart.”
How would she know? It wasn’t as if he’d ever paraded them past her. On purpose. Most of Quinn’s hooking-up happened on the road, where he kept things casual with about a dozen girlfriends in different cities—a third as many as his teammates gave him credit for, a misconception he’d never bothered to correct.
He found a certain advantage in staying away from the local talent. The out-of-town women knew the score, and if they tried to change the rules, any possible drama remained contained, geographically speaking. They were down to fuck without strings, which suited him perfectly. Denver hookups, on the other hand, might be down at first but had the potential to turn needy, hunting him down in his favorite hometown hotspots. Like Dory. That’s what he got for playing in his own backyard—with the same person more than once.
He let out a slow exhale and reminded himself he needed to limit sex to the road again. If he got back on the road. In his own defense, that very question had played on his mind when he’d decided to take advantage of what Dory offered because who knew when he’d get laid again? As it was, he’d been pretty damn proud of himself for turning down the opportunity to include her girlfriend. A modicum of logic had cut through the murk of lust and made him consider his mom catching him with two, though he’d never expected to be caught with the one in the first place.
“Tell me something, Quinnie.”
Quinnie. No one but his mom had ever called him that—maybe his brother when he was riding his ass—and it had been a long, long time since he’d heard it. It sounded strange but kind of nice. “Mmm?”
“Do you have anything in common with them besides … Well, besides the obvious?”
He burst out with a laugh—the wrong reaction, judging by her disapproving frown. “Mom, you’re killing me here! A mother and son should not be talking about this sh—stuff.”
She side-eyed him. “It’s no different than talks I’ve had with Ronan.”
Quinn didn’t bother hiding his surprise. “You’ve talked to Ronan about his, uh, love life?”
She shrugged. “Before he married Jennifer and settled down.”
Quinn’s throat contracted at the reminder of Ronan and Jen, and he felt as though he were trying to swallow past a piece of barbed wire. “You so sure Ronan has ‘settled down,’ Mom?” Ronan had been the biggest manwhore Quinn had ever known—which was saying something—and from the way he bragged whenever he talked to Quinn, didn’t sound like the guy had changed his ways. Douche.
“He’d better not to be running around on Jen. Do you know something I don’t?”
Shit, why had he even brought it up? Because he didn’t like his brother, and anytime he could make him look bad—especially in front of either of his parents—it was a rare Quinn win. He was extremely fond of those.
“No. He just likes to talk up what a big man he is.”
“Have you ever considered that’s strictly for your benefit?”
“My benefit? Why?”
She squared up her body so she faced him. “You two have been competing with each other since you were born. Your brother may be two years older, but he envies you. You snatched the golden ring that was out of his reach.”
Without thinking, he blurted, “Is that why he stole the girl I was dating?”
His mother drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Oh, Quinn, I thought you’d gotten past that. You and Jennifer weren’t—”
“Just because she and I weren’t serious didn’t make it okay for him to make a move on her. I mean, who does that? Especially to their own flesh and blood?” Jen was sweet, fun, and cute, and Quinn had been dating her a few months when Ronan met her. Truth be told, Quinn hadn’t been ready to take it to the next level with her—might not ever have been, though she was the rare one who had made him at least ponder the possibility. Apparently, she had been ready because shortly thereafter she’d broken it off with Quinn. Not long after that, she was pregnant and on her way to the altar. With Ronan.
Though Quinn had closed that chapter of his life years ago, the betrayal still stung. Not to mention that the occasional family get-together was awkward as hell.
His mother’s voice dragged him back to the present. “If he’s bragging about other women—and God help him if it’s true because I will beat him black and blue—it’s only because he wants to sound as if he’s outdoing you.”
“Really? I understand competitive streaks, Mom. I absolutely do. But if that’s the reason Ronan took my girl and mouths off about conquests? No, that’s totally jacked-up.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was still a sore spot.”
“It’s not,” Quinn sighed. “All I’m saying is even if Ronan’s full of it, he shouldn’t be talking like that. No matter how things ended between her and me, she doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
His mother’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “Is it possible the pot’s calling the kettle black?”
He turned her question over for a beat. Maybe she had a point in a convoluted sort of way. He shrugged. “It’s different. I’m not married.” And what’s the point of getting married if you’re going to keep fucking around?
“Which leads me back to my original question: Do you ever take the time to talk to these women? Get to know them?”
A dull thudding started behind his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to get to know them. It’s just …” My priorities don’t usually include talking.
“One of these days, Quinnie, you’re going to fall hard, and you won’t even see it coming. Jennifer was too nice and pliable, and that’s why it wouldn’t have worked. The girl for you will take you to task, and I just hope I’m around to witness it. She’ll be something else!”
He couldn’t picture the kind of woman his mom was talking about. What he did know was that when—if—the day came when he finally committed to one, she’d be it. Done. No one else. Unlike his dickhead brother. “Chances are she doesn’t exist, Mom.”
“Chances are,” his mother countered, “she does exist, but you’ll need to have graduated in Adulting before you recognize her.”
He chuckled. “I have at least two, four semesters left, right?”
His mother’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Maybe. Whoever she is, you’ll probably butt heads at first, like your dad and I did. Then she’ll give you a run for your money because she’ll be the rare woman you can’t impress with just your smile.”
Your dad and I. Why weren’t they together? Sure, she could be a pain in Quinn’s ass, but she was a vibrant, attractive woman, so why had his dad left? Quinn could remember listening to his parents’ laughter late at night when he’d been tucked in bed. He’d loved hearing the sound because it meant safety and love and warmth.
Had his dad cheated? And why hadn’t she moved on? Tempted as Quinn was to ask her, he always stopped himself short. Why stir up her private, painful memories to satisfy his own curiosity?
He laid his ha
nd on her shoulder, unsettled by how bony it was. “Can I get you anything?”
She surprised him when she covered his hand with hers. Affection wasn’t something they often shared since he’d become an adult—well, physically grown anyway.
She gave his hand a little squeeze and released it. “No, Quinnie, but thank you.”
He slid his hand off of her and was about to head to bed, but she didn’t seem ready to let him go. “I saw on the news that the NBA shut down. I was shocked. This thing must be bad.” She locked her gaze on him. “Do you think the NHL will do the same?”
“I have no idea. But honestly, I’m not convinced it’s as bad as everyone’s making it out to be.” He waved his hands in the air, and in a singsong voice said, “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this in my lifetime.” Her lips curved up in a half-smile. “I kind of hope they do suspend your season. Then you can stay home and stop with the Nazi cow babysitters.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face and gave her a fake glower. “Mom. Whether I’m home or not, you need someone here full-time.”
“No, I don’t.” Her familiar tone told him there was no point in arguing, and he was too tired anyway.
Puffing out a breath, he reached for his beanbags on the coffee table and started juggling. It always helped settle him when his nerves got too jangly.
Though he wasn’t looking at her, he could tell his mother’s eyes followed the little stuffed cubes. “You’re so good at that.” Her voice drifted, as though she were hypnotized, so she surprised him when she slipped in, “The only person I wouldn’t fight you on is that cute little Sarah.”
He dropped one beanbag, and the rest tumbled without him managing to catch even one. Shit! Recalling his laughable proposal, offered out of pure desperation, made him wince—at least Sarah had laughed at it when she’d shut him down.
“Porcupines aren’t cute, Mom, and she’s definitely a porcupine. She’s also a royal pain in the ass and—”
“Ah! Ah!” His mom held up her finger, then pointed toward the kitchen. “That’s a buck for the swear jar.”
“Since when is ‘ass’ a swear word?” he chuffed.
She shook her head. “No arguing or it doubles.”
“Fine,” he groused as he pulled out his wallet. Yeah, something else he was having trouble adjusting to with his mom under the same roof. He wasn’t even allowed the satisfaction of cursing out his exasperation in a blue streak. Like when he was a kid, he had to do it under his breath in his bedroom. No doubt she knew about that too.
In the kitchen, he slid out a dollar and stuffed it into the mega vase. Sadly, this was only one of many she’d strategically placed around the McMansion. His mind wandered to Sarah and her potty mouth. If she did live under the same roof, she’d be stuffing these damn things too. The thought brought a smile to his face.
As irritating as Sarah was, though, he couldn’t deny that trading barbs with her was the most stimulated he’d been last night—intellectually speaking. Girl had a mind—and a tongue—as sharp as a skate blade. It had kept him dancing on a boot toe, unlike Dory and her friend. Those two had laughed at everything he’d said, whether it was funny or not. Had they even paid attention to the shit that came out of his mouth? He’d toyed with describing what it was like to watch someone get pegged with a hundred-mile-an-hour puck in the kisser to see if that made them giggle too.
His mother’s sarcasm returned, jerking him from his thoughts. “Quinn, you should probably get some beauty sleep after your busy-bee night. Don’t you have a team meeting later today?”
Goddamn! Almost forgot. “Yeah, Mom.” He trudged toward the stairs, stealing a glance at her as he went. Though she might appear frail, his mom had a spine of steel. She reminded him of Sarah Nelson. Thank God Sarah had turned down his job offer because, Christ! He couldn’t imagine living with both of them under the same roof. Even in this twenty-thousand-something-square-foot house, there wouldn’t be enough room to contain the fireworks.
He chuckled to himself—and immediately stopped. If this virus was as bad as they said and they started shuttering everything, where would he find someone to help take care of his mother?
Oh shit. Sparky’s got a big problem.
Sarah woke up early the next morning, pulled from sleep by the urge to check her email. Had she received any replies to her rental inquiries?
As she scrolled through her phone, she drooped with disappointment. Getting her own place wasn’t going to happen today. Not only was the inventory already low, but landlords were temporarily pulling their places off the market to reduce the risk of coronavirus exposure. There was even talk the government might shut down short-term rentals. What?
She tossed her phone to the side, wrapped a thick robe around herself, and beckoned Archer. She padded to the back door and let him out. The only noise was the TV in the living room, and she went to investigate, discovering Gage and Lily watching the news.
“What’s up, guys?”
Lily looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed. “More people are testing positive for COVID-19 here in Colorado.”
Sarah plopped her butt in an armchair. “Any word yet on what the NHL’s going to do?”
Gage shook his head. “No, but we have a team meeting in an hour, so I’ll learn more then. Lily’s going to the store to stock up.”
A chill ran through Sarah’s limbs. She was in a twilight zone, suspended between a sci-fi movie and a dystopian reality. “I’ll get ready and go with you, Lil.”
Lily sent her a relieved smile. “Thank you, Sarah.”
If Sarah thought the news was surreal, Costco was like touching down on a different planet. The place was jammed. Had everyone in Denver decided to shop at the same store at the same time? The air was thick with tension, as though everyone was keeping a lid on simmering panic. But what they loaded on their carts was downright puzzling.
“Why are they stocking up on toilet paper?” Lily asked after the umpteenth cart piled high with the stuff rolled past them.
“Big sale?”
They ambled toward the paper goods section. When they arrived, a fight was breaking out between customers over a package of toilet paper.
Lily tugged Sarah’s sleeve. “Uh, Sar, I think we’re good on TP.”
“I feel you, Lil. I’m gonna grab extra bags of dog food, then let’s get the hell out of here.”
Back home, they put away their purchases and were high-fiving as Gage walked in. His eyes bounced between them. “Somebody win something?”
While Lily filled him in, Sarah took Archer into the backyard while she checked the rental apps again. Nada. Zip. Zero. As she was corralling her disappointment, her phone vibrated with a call, and her blood froze. Why the hell was Wolf calling? Hadn’t she told him specifically what he could do with himself? Anger—or the adrenalin shooting through her veins—made her hands shake as she slid his call to the red zone. She slipped the phone into her back pocket, but it went off again. She ignored it. The fourth time, she whipped it out to silence the damn thing, but it was a different incoming number.
“Oh hell,” she muttered. “Just what I need.” She tapped her screen to accept. “Hi, Mom.”
“Sarah!” her mother gasped. “Finally!”
Alarm bells went off in Sarah’s head, but she knew better than to get sucked into her mother’s frantic, guilt-laced rants before gathering a little intel. “Hey, Mom. What’s going on?”
“Where have you been, honey?”
She ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, actually, I’ve been making my way to Gage and Lily’s.”
A silent beat went by, then another. Sarah could practically count down to the “What? Why?” that exploded from her mom. Only it didn’t come. Instead, she got a mild “Oh.”
“Yeah, the company cut us loose to work from home, so I decided I could just as easily work from Colorado. I’m sorry I haven’t called. Between work and the dri
ve, I’ve literally just found a little downtime. You happened to beat me to it.” She cringed and instantly reverted to her naughty little-girl self, hating that an unstoppable force pulled her there.
“Well, thank goodness you’re with your brother,” her mother whooshed. “Family should be together at a time like this.”
Not the third degree Sarah had prepared for, and now her worry bloomed. “Why? Is everything all right? How’s Grandma?” Her grandmother, who suffered from dementia, was both a source of ludicrous, laugh-out-loud stories and the depths of melancholy. An odd push-pull of emotions came into play every time Sarah thought of their once-vibrant supreme matriarch.
“I just saw your grandmother, and she’s fine. The senior home announced they’re going on lockdown, so unless it’s end-of-life, I can’t see her.” A little sniffle came from the other end.
A pain jabbed at Sarah’s chest. Though she and her mother constantly rammed heads, she hated for her to be unhappy. And, well, there was her grandma too, locked away and alone. “I’m so sorry, Mom. Maybe this is a case where the dementia is actually a blessing. If she doesn’t know what’s happening, she won’t miss us and she won’t be scared.”
Her mother quickly recovered a cheery note in her voice. “I hope that’s the case. At least she’s got Oscar there with her. I’m grateful he’s in your grandmother’s life.”
Sarah pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. Invasion of the body snatchers. Has to be. Oscar was Grandma’s sweet gentleman friend who lived in the same senior center, and Mom had been dead set against their relationship. So much so, she’d ripped Oscar a few new assholes for the horrible crime of doting on Grandma.
Sarah wiggled her tongue and got it working again. “Sounds like maybe you’ve had a change of heart?”
Her mother actually trilled. “I’m learning that the right someone to help shoulder your load can be a real blessing, Sarah.”
Okaaaaay. “You’re not trying to say you’ve found, uh, a right someone, are you, Mom?” Flabbergasted, Sarah searched her memory banks for a time when her mother had been on a date, let alone caught up in a romance. Not surprisingly, she came up empty.
