“That’s cool,” I tell her and hope she drops it.
She doesn’t.
“Yeah, it seems your soccer team has a new coach and he’s got quite the reputation.” I look up at her and her arms are crossed as she looks down at me sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her face is accusatory, enough to make me stop what I’m doing to join her on the bed.
“Yeah, the striker for the LA Elite joined our roster this year as an assistant coach. Big whoop.” I hope my tone is convincing, because inside I’m rattled.
“Big whoop? Do you know what people say about him? He’s in the middle of some scandal right now, but there’s nothing concrete on it yet. Though, there is a lot of speculation. He sleeps around like he’s the one still in college and I’m not comfortable with you being around him. Bria, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself. I know she’s my mother and her history has her judgment clouded. She only wants the best for me and is looking out for her only daughter. The words are basically a mantra after all these years.
“Mom, I didn’t tell you because there’s nothing to tell. I don’t get involved in my coaches’ lives and I don’t listen to gossip unless there’s reason to.”
As the words leave my mouth, I cringe. Tatum has given me every reason in the book to listen to every rumor written and said about him.
“This is big news. You’re supposed to call me when changes like this happen.”
“Coach Paxton is still there; you know and like him and Paxton likes Tatum. It should be as simple as that.”
“And what do you think about Tatum?” She squints, scrutinizing me and I need to choose my words carefully.
“He’s taught me a lot. He’s an excellent player and I’m lucky to have been able to work with him this year.” My face is hot and I pray my cheeks aren’t rosy from talking about him.
“I see.” I don’t like her tone. I need to assure her he’s a good man.
“Really, Mom. You have nothing to worry about with him. This was a huge opportunity for us. Not many people get to work alongside a professional soccer player. He’s been nothing but kind and respectful toward all the girls. He’s been a monumental help this year, getting us where we are.” Thanks to my mom’s hectic work schedule, she never gets to many of my games or she might’ve met Tatum already. But I know, like every year, she’ll make it to the playoffs and then she’ll meet him and see how great he is for herself. The thought alone gives me butterflies. “I promise, Mom, he’s a really great gu—coach. He’s a great coach and you’ll see for yourself when you meet him.” Talk about a close call.
“Oh, sweetie.” I smile, thinking she’s accepting everything I told her about him. “You’re in love with him.”
Sonofabitch.
My jaw drops and I do an awkward gasp laugh which makes me look guiltiest of all.
“What? Who? Me? And Tatum? Are you—you’re crazy. I don’t know where—Mom, no. No.” I shake my head and laugh knowing damn well I sound like the crazy person.
“Is he good to you?” I sigh, defeated.
What do I tell her? Saying it’s a loaded question is the understatement of the millennium.
“He’s the best guy I know.”
At the root of it all, it’s true. It takes a special kind of man to own up to his mistakes and claim them. The fact is, Tatum had no reason to believe Amanda, to reach out to her or claim his son. He didn’t need to be in his life, but he wants to. Not many men would do the same.
Hell, look at his teammate Mitch who can’t even be there for his own wife and kids.
Tatum’s in a league of his own. He’s been doing nothing but trying to make everyone happy around him. He’s been strong through everything; through the crappy hands he’s been dealt.
God, before he told me he admired me, but I realize how much I admire him.
I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him or to commit to everything yet, but somehow, even after everything he’s put me through, there’s no doubt in my mind—Tatum Trevino is one of the good ones.
My mom promises to behave when she meets him and to try not to judge him too much. I’ll worry about the rest of the details later, once I figure everything out between him and me.
After I finish packing and we eat dinner, we spend the rest of the night together, watching movies, before I head back to school first thing in the morning.
She already starts crying as we head off to bed, but I’ll see her in a couple of weeks and then I’ll be home for winter break.
I can’t ignore the pang in my chest reminding me that once the season is over, Tatum will be gone and he and I might be over for good.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bria
“You’re back!” I run into my best friend’s open arms, tackling her in the process.
“It’s only been a week. What are you going to do when we graduate and we go our separate ways?” I ask.
“We don’t talk about those days. That’s months away. We’ll deal with it when the time comes and then I’ll handcuff your wrist to mine and never leave your side.”
I sling an arm over her shoulders and head into the house. When we get into our room, we sit on our beds and catch up on our week at home.
“How’s your mom?” she asks.
“Worried, dramatic, overprotective. The usual. She knew I was upset the minute I stepped out of my car and didn’t let me out of her sight for one minute.” Morgan laughs, likely because she didn’t expect anything less. “How was your break?”
“My high school friends and I went out for Thanksgiving eve and caught up. I don’t remember most of it.” She shrugs. “First playoff game tomorrow. Are you ready?”
“Hell yes. I was ready two weeks ago when we were supposed to have the first game. Who wants to win their first game on a Sunday? How are we supposed to celebrate after?” The College Soccer Association decided to push our playoffs back two weeks this year as a trial run, which is going to screw everything up, but whatever. It’s not my call to make.
“Well, we go to class hungover like normal college students.”
We laugh and Lindsay and Sydney join us.
“The team will probably go to dinner or something like we do every year with Paxton. But then I’m sure Tatum will come. Are you going to be okay with him?” I shoot my best friend daggers, but she doesn’t register my threat.
“What’s that mean?” Lindsay’s face is scrunched and he glances between Morgan and me.
My best friend’s mouth opens in an ‘o’ so large it would be comedic if I wasn’t severely pissed at her right now.
“Morgan,” I chastise and glare at her. She mouths I’m sorry! but the damage is done.
“You know. He’s been a dick lately. Well, he’s always been a dick but it seems extra lately, I guess? And since Bria has always been the target where his anger is concerned, I thought with the extra stress of playoffs and what have you, she wouldn’t want to be around him?” She doesn’t take a breath and every word sounds like there should be a question mark at the end of it.