“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter right now anyway,” I said dismissively. “I’m headed back to Colorado. I actually… have a lead on a possible job there. I don’t know. We’ll see.” It was at least a quick way of getting her off my back about work.
Her face lit up. “Oh honey, that’s fantastic. Although… I’m not sure I’d be okay with you living so far away. I’d miss you terribly.”
While it was nice of her to say it, I wasn’t sure I believed it. She rarely called me or invited me anywhere. She definitely enjoyed it when I came over for a visit, but it was never reciprocated despite my inviting her over for meals many times to taste-test new recipes or even have an old favorite I knew she liked.
I guess part of me was wondering if the worst came to pass—if Dad sent Tiller off to another team in another city—could I, would I, go with him? The answer was yes, if he’d have me. At this point I knew well enough to know I didn’t want to be apart from Tiller at all. In fact, I couldn’t even imagine it.
Life without Tiller? No, thanks.
“Bring him to Galveston,” Mom said. “We have plenty of room.”
I tilted my head at her. “What do you mean, Galveston?”
“You know, the big rental house we arranged for Christmas.” She flapped her hand as if she’d already told me this, but I would have remembered. She definitely had not told me this.
“No, I don’t know.”
She fussed with a houseplant on the counter in front of her. “Well, your father and I have rented a house on the water for the week of Christmas. All your brothers are coming so we can have a big family do. Won’t that be nice?”
I refused to have hurt feelings over being left out. “Were you going to tell me about this big family gathering? Ever?”
Maybe I wasn’t as mature as I’d hoped.
“If I recall, you were supposed to be in Colorado for the holiday. It must have slipped my mind. But the two of you can come now, and you can introduce Tiller to your family.”
“They all know him already, and I’m not sure Coach would be as welcoming as you are.”
“Nonsense, dear. You don’t give your father enough credit. He wants what’s best for you.”
I didn’t bother to argue with her because part of me wanted her to be right. She wasn’t.
After I left my parents’ house, I headed straight to the Rigger practice facility to try and catch my dad during the hours he was in his office. Once midday came and went, he was usually on the field or working with special teams.
I ignored the little floaty hearts swimming around in my heart when I saw Tiller’s old pickup truck with its illustrated bumper sticker that featured an oddly sexual-looking pile of fresh veggies on it that read, “I feel good from my head tomatoes.” I’d gotten it in a welcome letter when I’d registered for a nutrition seminar, and Sam had dared me to put it on the truck one night after we’d had a little too much red wine.
The fact Tiller had laughed and kept it on his grandpa’s beloved truck was a testament to his love of people over things. I loved that about him. He was one of the highest-paid players in the league, and you’d barely know it from his worn jeans, team tees, and half-broke Chevy.
Seeing the familiar pickup truck boosted my confidence. Tiller and I had been in each other’s lives for five years now. This wasn’t a flash-in-the-pan situation with a stranger. His position on the team was solid. My career as a professional chef had several different lucrative possibilities, meaning I didn’t need to work for him anymore to make a living. We would be fine. There was no reason not to support us in a relationship.
I smiled at the security staff as I entered the building and stopped several times to exchange pleasantries with players and members of the staff as I made my way down to Dad’s office. His assistant, Noreen, was almost as bad as Mrs. Nibert when it came to bending an ear, so I tried nipping a chat in the bud by walking right past her with a wave as if I was in a great hurry.
“He’s in a mood, hon,” she warned as I sailed past.
And he was.
“Goddammit, where is the injury reserve update I asked for?” he shouted through the open door. Noreen continued typing calmly on her computer as if she couldn’t hear him. She’d been working for him long enough to have learned how to set boundaries by now, and one of them was not responding when he bellowed from the other room.
“You busy?” I asked, poking my head in.
“Mikey? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
To his credit, he stopped blustering and immediately stood with a look of concern on his face. I waved him back down. “Everything is fine. I just came from the house. Mom and Mrs. Nibert were comparing gourds, and I heard way more than I wanted to about Mr. Nibert’s sciatica.”
He nodded absently and sat back down. “What’s on your mind?”
After a moment in which I tried to gather my thoughts, he seemed to catch on to the upcoming topic of conversation. The crease of concern on his forehead turned to a slash of annoyance.
“Close the door.”
I did as he said and moved to take a seat in front of his desk. It reminded me of the time I’d come here to ask if I could take a part-time job in high school at a local bakery. It would have meant waking up at four in the morning and getting most of my schoolwork done in the afternoons so I could get to bed at a decent hour.
He’d said no with the excuse that I didn’t need a part-time job as long as he made ten million dollars a year. I’d sat here and argued that all four of my brothers had been allowed to have jobs in high school, but none of my arguments had worked.
“I’m in love with Tiller Raine,” I said, clasping my hands together in my lap so I didn’t use them to throw myself out the window in an effort to escape my big scary confession.
He barked out a laugh. “No you’re not. Don’t be so dramatic.”
I swallowed the sting. “I am. And I’m here to ask you, man to man, to respect that this has nothing to do with his professional life.”
My father leaned forward on his elbows and steepled his hands together. “It has everything to do with his professional life, and for you to imply otherwise only goes to show how naive you are. This cannot happen. It will not happen. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I felt my intestines wobble. My dad had always had the ability to intimidate the shit out of me. “Why not? Explain it to me. What does it matter to you who he dates outside of work?”
Because I sure as hell knew my dad didn’t care about me nearly as much as he cared about Tiller Raine and his effect on the team.
“You may think I’m some controlling asshole, Mikey, but this is me looking out for you and him. Tiller is on target to be one of the greats. Do you get that? He has already had a once-in-a-lifetime career, and if it continues, he’ll be a Hall of Famer the likes of which the league hasn’t seen before. Do you have any idea how little time he has to concern himself with a relationship and all the media bullshit it would bring? How can you be so fucking naive?”
“Coach, you can’t expect him to spend the next several years without a love life. You’d never ask that of any of your other players!”