by Lea Coll
I was stunned by her reaction. She’d always been supportive in the past, deflecting interviews and questions from fans. Why was she pushing this?
“You know the front office wants you doing more publicity. If they find out, they’ll encourage you to do it. What exactly does Dylan want you to do?”
If I wanted to keep my position as captain, solidify my position as a leader on the team, I’d have to cooperate with Dylan if Lena mandated my involvement. “Dylan wants a few players to meet with the kids, talk to them, play ball, be a mentor.”
“So, you wouldn’t even have to mention your speech impediment if you don’t want to. I don’t see how it’s going to be a problem.”
“Maybe.” Hiding a speech impediment around trained therapists wasn’t going to be easy for me. The other question was, did I have time to volunteer? I dedicated my time to training, practice, watching film, and rest.
How would my life have been different if I’d had a mentor as a child? Someone who would have said I’ve been in your shoes. What could I say to them? It gets better, even if it hadn’t for me. I was working most guy’s dream job, but I still watched every word that came out of my mouth. Would it be too hard for me to be around kids who had similar issues?
Callie repeating Kevin Love’s words reverberated in my head: Nothing haunts you like the things you don’t say. Was the same thing true for me? Was there a possibility I could help other kids in a similar situation, embarrassed that every word they speak would be picked apart and made fun of? How could I encourage them to get help if I never had?
If I agreed to help Dylan, I’d have to see her again. Her beautiful smile, the hope in her eyes.
For some inexplicable reason, I needed her to want my help when any football player would do. I was excited at the prospect of seeing her again.
Chapter Five
DYLAN
I slipped on my heels to visit my parents’ home on Sunday morning. They expected a certain dress code for brunch.
I reread the text Reid Everson’s assistant, Callie Goodwin, sent to me after I’d gone to sleep last night.
Callie: I want to set up a meeting with a few other players to get more information about your program.
Relief and hope soared through me in equal measure. Was Reid Everson one of the interested players? My fingers twitched with the desire to type the question. I didn’t.
I sipped my coffee before typing a response. That would be amazing. Thank you so much.
Callie: I see you’re based in Annapolis. I can have them meet you at the Annapolis Yacht Club on Friday for drinks.
That’s perfect.
Excitement surged through me. I grabbed my clutch, walking out the side door to the tiny parking pad next to my historic home.
It was finally happening. Ever since Hadley moved here from New Orleans, Avery and I vowed to support her endeavor to expand her program into Annapolis, using the firm’s name to support her.
I had a knack for fundraising, organizing, getting people to champion a cause. Not only that, I loved speaking to potential investors.
I parked in the driveway of my parents’ deceptively modest home. I looked forward to seeing them every week. At the same time, I was on edge, worried Mom’s symptoms had worsened. I opened the door, calling out to my parents.
“We’re on the porch,” Mom called back.
I walked through the kitchen, down the hall, to the sunroom they’d added on after I’d moved out. Mom rose, her gray hair dyed brown, her makeup carefully applied, dressed in a sweater set and slacks. I hugged her before taking in the floor to ceiling windows with spectacular views of the bay. A large white deck and an expanse of green grass stood between the house and the water. “Even though I grew up here, I can’t get enough of this view.”
It was especially calming after meeting with Reid last night. I needed to think of it as a business meeting. Otherwise, I’d reminisce about how handsome he looked, how my heart fluttered when he spoke, how I wanted to know more about him.
“Sometimes when you grow up with something you take it for granted.”
She poured tea into a cup, her hands steady. The lines around her eyes and mouth indicated she was fatigued, a common sign of MS between relapses. I didn’t ask how she was sleeping because she was always tired no matter how many hours she logged.
"Where’s Dad?” I sat next to her, subtly taking in her movements. I was relieved her symptoms didn’t appear to be worse than last week, but the fear was always there, simmering under the surface.
She worried so much about possible relapses that we weren’t always sure if she was experiencing symptoms or she was being paranoid. After she was diagnosed, she researched every possible symptom, the trajectory of her disease continuing, and searched for new developments. She questioned her doctors to the point where I felt bad for them. I finally talked to one of the hospital’s social workers when I was an adult. She said Mom liked the illusion of control over the uncertain disease. It helped me understand where she was coming from, not how to deal with her. The social worker recommended she go to a therapist. I’d never been able to get her to go.
When she was first diagnosed, she went on with life as usual. She wanted to plan an annual charity event. She didn’t seem to know how to go about it. Her doctor said part of the illness was difficulty planning and problem solving. I helped her as much as I could, letting her think she was in control. Thankfully, she was able to attend that event when it was scheduled.
Dad and I compared notes often to make sure she wasn’t taking on too much.
When she didn’t respond, I touched her hand. “Mom, where’s Dad?”
“He’s making some calls. He’ll be down in a minute.” Her voice was smooth, not wavering like it sometimes did when she was having an episode. Her difficulties with her speech made Kids Speak that much more important to me.
Her lips tilted into a smile. “How did your date with the football player go last evening?”
I barely restrained an eye roll at her depiction. “It wasn’t a date.”
“It wasn’t? I thought you said you won a date with a football player?”
“I bid on a date. I wanted to see if he’d be interested in volunteering with Kids Speak. It was more of a business opportunity.” That’s what I told myself anyway.
“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged as if she was disappointed.
I was surprised she seemed disappointed. Usually, my parents discouraged any serious relationships because it took time away from how much I could help them. My last boyfriend, Pierce, hadn’t liked when I dropped whatever I was doing with him to help my parents.
“He thinks several of the players will be interested in helping. We’re meeting with them on Friday night.”
“That’s great, dear. I hope it works out.” She smiled, though it seemed hollow as if she’d hoped for a different answer.
Dad walked in wearing a suit. Though he was older he was still fit from playing tennis with his friends. “Oh good, you’re here.”
I smiled at our weekly joke, rising to kiss his cheek. “I’m here every Sunday, Dad.”
The housekeeper, Darlene, walked in. “Brunch is ready.”
Officially, Darlene helped around the home, cleaning, cooking, and gardening. She served the dual purpose of keeping an eye on Mom when Dad worked. She’d been working for them for a year now.
“How’s the law firm doing?” Dad asked as we walked into the dining room where brunch was already spread out.
“It’s great. Our affiliation with Kids Speak is bringing in a lot of education cases. We represent parents who are trying to get services, or parents who want us to help them force schools to comply with existing individualized education plans. I had no idea it was such a needed area.”
Dad sat at the head of the table. “It’s always nice when your charity work benefits the business.”
“She’s raising funds for Morrison Rebuilds too, the nonprofit that remodels homes, making them hand
icapped accessible,” Mom said.
Dad wanted my firm to be a success. He saw the importance of involvement in the community. Although work, the ability to earn an income, was the most important since he’d grown up poor.
“Are you sure you have time for that?” Dad smoothed a cloth napkin over his lap as Darlene poured coffee in his mug.
His insinuation was subtle, he didn’t like anything that detracted from my ability to help Mom.
Dad’s reminder reinforced the guilt that never went away that I should always be available in case she needed me.
“I do. Like I said, the work I’m doing with the nonprofits has brought in a lot of clients. It was an unexpected side effect.” One I was incredibly proud of. It allowed me to pursue my passion for helping others while building our client list at the firm, making it a success.
Dad considered me. “You’re good at bringing in clients.”
Warmth spread through me at his words. “I’m good with people.”
“Just like your father.” Mom smiled at Dad.
“I was lucky enough to inherit both of your best qualities.” I took a sip of water, hoping my words were enough to keep the peace. As an only child, they liked to boast of my accomplishments, taking credit for the origin. It was sweet. Sometimes it caused strife between them I liked to avoid.
“Well said, darling.” Mom tipped her head in my direction.
Love for them simmered in my chest.
“If you need anything at all, let me know. I’m happy to help,” Dad said.
He owned several different businesses in the area. He was active in local politics and rotary clubs. One thing he wasn’t adept at handling was Mom’s diagnosis and her reaction to it.
“Thanks, Dad.” We were quiet for a few minutes, eating the waffles, fruit, bacon, and sausage Darlene made for us. It was delicious. When I finished, I slid back from the table, my belly full.
“I’m proud of you for working so hard. Your firm will be a success if you keep focused on that and family of course.”
I sighed. He mentioned the same thing every week.
We chitchatted for a few more minutes while Darlene cleared our plates. Then Mom said she wanted to sit outside to enjoy the breeze. I joined her, enjoying the quiet, the sounds of the birds flying over the water. When she mentioned taking a nap, I kissed her goodbye.
Dad walked me to the car which was out of character for him. Usually, we emailed to compare notes on any interactions we’d had with Mom that week. Was she experiencing any symptoms or was it merely her anxiety when she said she had pain, double vision, or trouble remembering something she needed to do?
Dad’s calm face fell the last few steps.
My stomach rolled. “What is it?”
As Mom aged, I expected the relapses to worsen until the inevitable happened, she’d lose her ability to walk, her independence. The constant anxiety and unpredictability made the mental stress almost as bad as the physical.
Dad’s shoulders hunched. “I have a feeling we’re in for a bad relapse. It’s been too long since the last one.”
His words somewhat relieved me. He hadn’t mentioned any physical reasons for his concerns, only paranoia. His fear was reasonable but I didn’t want him consumed with worry.
“You can’t think like that Dad. You have to be positive.”
“I know. It’s just your mother’s anxiety is worse lately.”
“Have you seen any physical weakness? Anything she used to be able to do that she struggles with now?”
“No. Nothing new.”
My shoulders sagged in relief. “Has Darlene said anything?”
“No. She’s become a good companion for her.”
I laughed despite my frustration. “I’m glad Mom found a friend.”
Mom had plenty of friends. The fact she never told them about the MS told me they were more acquaintances than true friends. They interacted with her when there was a charity event. They didn’t socialize with her otherwise.
I said goodbye to my dad, promising to drive carefully.
Driving home, my focus on the road, my fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Mom was diagnosed at a time when I should have been ecstatic about homecoming, prom, graduation, and college. Instead, I was researching symptoms, quizzing Dad on each doctor visit. The ups and downs of the various tests finally gave way to a tentative diagnosis. Knowing was a relief. The way the doctor laid out her life was overwhelming in its unpredictability.
Over time, it became more manageable. My parents’ palpable fear of a severe relapse kept me on edge. Growing up, they were the ones reassuring me. Mom’s diagnosis changed everything. I had to be strong for them.
Chapter Six
REID
Callie discussed Dylan’s idea with Lena. The plan was to send a few interested players to meet with Dylan. When Jonah and Chase said they’d go, I figured the matter was closed for me. I could go back to focusing on what I loved, football. I was relieved yet at the same time strangely disappointed.
After practice on Tuesday, Coach Ackerman pulled me into his office. “Lena needs to see you.”
“What does she want?” I shouldered my bag.
He waved a hand at me. “Something about a new nonprofit we might support. Speak Kids or something.”
I stilled. “Kids Speak? I thought Jonah and Chase wanted to help?”
Coach Ackerman sat back in his chair. “You need to get your name out there more, be involved with the community. It’s what’s expected of a captain. The more the fans identify with you, the more jerseys you sell, the better contract you get, the more endorsements you’re offered. Tight ends are a hot commodity these days. This will be good for you.”
Of anyone on the team, I worried he knew something was up with my speech. I rarely spoke more than a few words at a time to my teammates. With him, I’d had long discussions regarding players, games, strategies over the years. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I don’t have to remind you that we’re a team. We do what’s best for the team, regardless of personal feelings.”
Over the years, I’d considered telling him about my speech issues. I didn’t want him to look at me differently. He was the closest thing to a father figure I’d had. I smoothed my face, so it was blank. “Yes, Coach.”
He gestured for the door, dismissing me. “Head on up to her office. She’s waiting for you.”
I sighed, gathering my things from the locker room before meeting Lena. It was after office hours, so her assistant wasn’t at her desk. I knocked on her slightly ajar door.
“Come in,” Lena called.
I pushed the door open the rest of the way as she looked up from her computer. Her sleek chin-length black hair cut in a sharp line, the dark color a contrast to her blue eyes. She always looked well dressed and put together.
She gestured at the chair across from her. “Oh good, it’s you. Have a seat.”
“I brought you in to talk about Kids Speak. I have to say I’m excited about the program.”
I’d researched it after I talked to Callie on Saturday night. Kids Speak was successful in New Orleans. They hadn’t gained traction in Maryland. The most recent article mentioned start-up business owner, Griffin Locke, investing. From what Dylan said, they needed more than an investor, she needed a name behind the organization.
I admired Dylan’s grit and determination. She knew what she wanted, not hesitating to go after it. She wasn’t cowed by my fame or my unwelcoming demeanor. She was charismatic, maybe even accustomed to getting what she wanted. For some reason, I didn’t want to be one more person falling for her charms, even if she made my cock twitch.
“Why do you need me?”
Lena shifted away from her screen to face me. “You seem to have a rapport with Ms. Gannon. I need you to convince her to expand into Baltimore. I think what they’re doing is great, but I don’t want you guys traveling an hour to Annapolis during the season. The kids in the city could benefit from
the same program.”
I settled back in the chair. “Wouldn’t expanding into Baltimore be too much?”
Lena’s smile widened. “If she agrees, the team’s on board with whatever players or money she needs. We represent Baltimore, we have a strong tie with schools in the city, Lincoln would like to see the program here.”
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees, my muscles tensed. “Why would they want to do that?”
A co-sponsorship of the program. It wasn’t unheard of even though a new partnership hadn’t happened in a while.
“In New Orleans, Kids Speak was successful on its own. When the college baseball team became involved it garnered national attention.” Lena leaned her elbows on the desk, folding her hands together, her gaze focused on me. “This pairing will be advantageous not only for the team, but for the city and Kids Speak. You know how important education is to Lincoln.”
Lena fell silent for a few seconds, searching my face for a reaction. “We’re always looking for ways to give back to the community.” She paused as if for maximum effect. “You have to admit, Dylan Gannon has balls bidding on a silent auction to meet a player to pitch her program. What was your impression of her?”
“She was intelligent and passionate when she talked about Kids Speak.” She was also beautiful and magnanimous. The kind of woman I steered clear of because their very presence attracted attention.
Lena sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re reluctant to do this. It’s for a good cause. You were obviously impressed with this woman.”
My head ached. I had to tell her something close to the truth to get her to back off. “I don’t think I’ll be able to convince Dylan to move Kids Speak to the city.”
“You must have given her some reason to think you’d be amenable to working with her organization. Otherwise, why bring it up?”
“She needed a connection to the team. It would have been the same if she’d gone out with Chase or Jonah that night.”
“Are you sure about that? You’ve already met with her. You know her the best.”