Hawk dropped his head and relaxed his grip on the sink. He needed to pull it together. Grabbing the dish cloth off the counter, he dried his hands and turned to his son. “Whoever’s listening, silent ninja.”
Henry Lee grinned up at him. “I snuck up on you good, huh, Dad?”
“You sure did.” He scooped him up, tossing him over his shoulder and carrying him down the hall to his son’s bedroom to delighted squeals and giggles. “You probably tried to sneak like a ninja past your bedtime.”
He tossed his son lightly onto the bed where he bounced and giggled some more, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Did it work?”
“Sorry, HL. Let’s go. Teeth and pj time.” He usually wasn’t a stickler about bedtimes, since as a working father, some of the best quality time was in these special moments at the end of the day. But Hawk had had a piercing headache for half the day and was ready to crash himself. While HL bounced across the hall to brush his teeth, Hawk grabbed out a clean set of pajamas and his son’s current favorite bedtime story.
HL frowned at the pajamas when he reentered the room. “Dad, I’m too old for those.”
“These are your favorite ones.” Hawk sat down on the edge of the twin bed, fingering the once-revered Ninja Squirrel pajamas. They were soft and thin with wear. Damn, his kids were changing faster than he could keep up. Which reminded him...“Hey, anything happen to your sister at school or on the bus today that you know about?”
Shrugging, Henry Lee grabbed a plain T-shirt from his dresser and tugged it on over his head. “Scott Stokes called her chicken legs, but he does that every day.”
Oh, boy. Tough to handle for his shy girl, yet she hadn’t complained or cried to him. His sensitive girl who too often internalized things trying not to worry him. Poor kid might have been blessed with her mama’s sweet temperament but physically, she was all Savage. She was inches taller than all the boys in her grade already. She was all long legs, sharp elbows, and angst. And he hadn’t a clue how to help her.
HL climbed up into the bed, slipped under the covers, and looked up at him with his mama’s dark eyes. “Dad, are you getting married this year?” “It’s three weeks before Christmas and I’m not dating anyone, so no, not planning to get married.” He knew how bad HL wanted a mama, but the years of grief had transitioned into years of trying to do right by his two kids. For a few years, he thought he’d managed all right, with help from his family and friends. But now? Now he felt his grasp on parenting slipping away again as the kids got older and their needs were changing. He rubbed his chest trying to dissipate the tight burning sensation. “We’ve
talked about this—”
“I was just checking before I make my list for Santa.”
“You know that’s not how it works, right, HL?”
“I know. I can’t pick my mommy—you have to.” HL shrugged and
quickly jumped to the next topic on his mind. “Jordy said Santa isn’t real. Is that true, Dad?”
Hell. HL’s friend, Jordy, had high school-age sisters. As such, good ole’ Jordy was a font of information that really livened up their dinner table conversations. “What do you think?”
“I think he’s real. Aunt Georgie said everyone should believe in Christmas magic ‘cause it makes the world a better place.”
Thank you, Georgie. He was happy to put that off another year, especially since he had to figure out how to handle his ten-year-old daughter speeding toward puberty.
“Hey, where’s your lucky Pokémon card?” It normally sat in a place of honor leaning up against the Lego lamp on his bedside table.
“I traded it for something.” HL propped his pillow up and leaned against it. “I’m eight now, Dad. Me and Jordy decided we’re too old for them. I’m getting too old for lots of stuff.”
“Like what?” Hawk’s chest hurt at the day’s reminders of how fast his kids were growing up. Either that or he was coming down with the flu.
“Baths. Guys take showers, like you do.”
“Ah.”
“Ms. Windsor says I’m too old for shooting spit balls at girls.”
“I agree with Ms. Windsor.” Even though he, Quinn, and Gage had
probably enjoyed that “fun” well into fourth or fifth grade.
“Pajamas with feet.”
Which explained the Ninja Squirrel pajamas. “So plain pajamas with
no feet. Got it. How about stories at bedtime? Are you too old for them?” “No. Ms. Windsor says you’re never too old for stories.”
“Your teacher is very smart. Okay, scoot over and let’s read. The BFG again?” Hawk settled in next to HL ready to read his son’s favorite book for the hundredth time.
“Wait, no!” HL jumped out of bed and over to his backpack on the floor. “Ms. Windsor read The Polar Express in class today and she let me bring it home.”
Crawling back in bed with the book, the two of them took turns reading. It was easy to see why the book had captured his son’s attention. A story about a young boy and Christmas magic just when other kids in his grade were trying to convince him Santa wasn’t real.
Just because Hawk had stopped believing in magical Christmases years ago didn’t mean HL had to. And that eased the smallest part of guilt that stabbed at him. They got to “the end” just as his son’s eyelids drooped heavily.
Hawk helped settle his son under his big, warm quilt and kissed him on his head. “Night, HL. I love you, buddy.”
Flipping the light off, he paused on his way out at Henry Lee’s sleepy voice. “Daddy, I’m not too old for a mommy. In case you were wondering.”
* * * *
Nora Joy thought she’d hit rock bottom six months ago when a torn rotator cuff injury had threatened to end her career as one of America’s top beach volleyball players. She’d been dead wrong.
Because less than an hour ago she’d found out her place on the National team was in jeopardy even after six long months of rehab. She needed a hot bath, a glass of wine, and the understanding shoulder of her boyfriend, Eric, to cry on. Except today wasn’t about her, so she packed all the negative thoughts deep away for now. Today was Eric’s birthday. She’d told him her doctor’s appointment had been bumped back a day so she could surprise him.
In retrospect, having slipped quietly into their apartment, not a good decision. Turned out he surprised her—because she walked in on him having sex with her best friend. Surprise!
It hurt like the stab in the back it was. A sharp jagged pain that stole her breath. Sure, maybe her pride hurt more than her heart, but she was too shocked to examine that for the moment. And she honestly wasn’t sure what hurt more: her boyfriend’s infidelity or the betrayal by her best friend and volleyball partner.
She took one look at their naked lover’s knot and turned right around, leaving as their shocked faces swiveled her way. Okay, maybe she’d thrown Eric’s favorite devil’s food double chocolate cake at them. And fans didn’t call her Nora “Nailed it” Joy for nothing, so yes, it’s possible she’d hesitated just long enough to see the cake explode against Eric’s naked ass as flying globs of icing and cake splattered across their tangled limbs.
How was this happening? It felt like she was watching one of those over-the-top soap operas. Was it weird that she could still see them in her mind’s eye and the most dominant thought was how come Eric never tried that position when we had sex? Yes it was weird and she needed to pull her crap together.
She drove to the only place she had left to go: the apartment she used to share with her mother up until she moved in with Eric last year. Her mom sat in the living room drinking a margarita and waving around freshly painted nails.
“Hey, honey. So, what’s the verdict? What did Doctor Bob say about your shoulder?”
Nora dropped down onto a dark fuchsia velvet settee that was a new addition since she’d moved out. “It doesn’t matter.
I’m quitting.”
“You can’t quit!” Her mother sat forward on the couch, a frown struggling through her botoxed forehead. “You’re at the top of your game. Once you get past this injury things will be fine. You’ll see.”
“I just walked in on my boyfriend and my best friend having wild acrobatic sex. Things are not fine, Mom.”
“Oh, well, that explains it. You’re upset. I understand, but Nora, you and Beth are too close to winning the gold in the next Olympics to let something this little come between you.”
Something this little? Reason number six hundred and seventy-eight why your mother should never be your manager. But then her mama never had been one of those supportive mothers who’d hug her baby girl when she was down. “About that—Doctor Bob said there’s a buildup of scar tissue from the surgery. He has serious doubts that I’ll come back from the injury—not at an Olympic level. I think I’m done.”
Her mother sprung up from her seat. “You cannot quit, Eleanor.”
Nora ran a hand over her eyes and searched deep for whatever last bit of strength and patience she could find. “Ma, we’ll be fine. We’ve got all my endorsement money. I’ll buy us a small house outside of the city and we can—”
“There’s no money.”
“Of course there’s money. You’ve been investing my sponsorship money for years.”
Her mother’s head jerked away avoiding her gaze. “I never actually invested it. The market was too volatile—so I kept it in savings.”
“Okaaay, so we’ve got a small nest egg.” Pain jabbed at her temples as the day kept piling on.
“I’m afraid not.” Her mom shook her head. “Living in California isn’t cheap. And there are expectations and an image to keep up.”
“Ma, I practically live in bikinis and workout clothes. What expectations and image are you talking about?”
“Me! I’m talking about me! When you’re the manager for one of the world’s top beach volleyball players, people have expectations. While you’re off gallivanting around the world, I’m stuck here handling everything. It’s very stressful, Nora. So I’m forced to escape to the spa or do some retail therapy.”
Handling what? Not the investments apparently. “So there’s no money? Not a cent?”
Her mother sighed in frustration and plopped back down on the couch, blowing once on her nails before raising her eyes to Nora’s. “Actually, you’re in debt. About twenty thousand, not including late fees and penalties.”
“What the hell, Mom?” The air whooshed out of her lungs like when she landed hard on the sand after saving a point with a desperate dive.
“Don’t yell at me, Eleanor!” Her mother blinked back tears.
“I’m sorry. It’s just a shock.” She sucked in a big breath and released it slowly. And again. “Okay, so we’ll start over. We’ll be fine. We can move somewhere cheaper, preferably far away from the beach volleyball scene. Maybe back to North Carolina.”
“Beth offered me a job as her manager. I wasn’t going to accept, but since you’re quitting...”
“You’re taking it?” It was Nora’s turn to jump up from her seat. “Even though she just broke your own daughter’s heart by sleeping with my boyfriend?”
“Well, I really want that gold medal.” Her mom shrugged like it was no big deal. “Good luck finding a job in this economy. You’ve got a GED and a useless degree.”
Nora gritted her back teeth together. “You pushed me into that useless degree.”
“How was I to know you’d turn into a quitter? Jesus, Nora, if I’d known that I’d have steered you into a more marketable degree.” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re really not qualified for anything.”
She had a college degree from USC and had traveled the world. There must be plenty of jobs she was qualified for.
Six days later she had to admit her mother was right: there were no jobs she was qualified for. Certainly none that paid enough to cover the cost of living in California.
Seven days later her mom moved out to work for Beth. Apparently Beth had offered her mom her old apartment as Beth had moved in with Eric. It’s not that it surprised Nora. Her mom had always been more of a pushy manager than a loving mother. So surprised? No. Disappointed? Oh, hell yes.
Wasn’t it enough she’d grown up without a dad since her “sperm donor” wanted nothing to do with parenting the child he’d created? Was it too much to hope that just once, when life dealt her a full house of disappointments, her mama could offer her a bit of sympathy? A hug, even? “Come on! Whoever’s in charge up there... Can’t I be loved just once in my life?”
Eight days later she received an offer from Playboy magazine to pose for their cover. It was actually hard to turn down the money they were offering. Heck she’d been on the cover of S.I.’s swimsuit issue twice in itty bitty bikinis. But she couldn’t cross that line into nude no matter how much her mother prodded her.
Nine days later the eviction notice arrived. Investments weren’t the only thing her mother had stopped taking care of. Seemed her mother hadn’t been paying the rent out of the checks Nora had been giving her.
Ten days later Nora was desperate enough to beg the universe to throw anything her way. A winning lottery ticket. A positive response, or any response at all, for one of the many job applications she’d filled out. She’d applied for jobs in sixteen different states. Surely there was something a six foot tall, washed-up, former Olympic medal winning beach volleyball player with a bum shoulder and knee could do.
Her mailbox pinged and she leaned forward squinting at the lone e-mail. A job offer! Yes! Would she be interested in a job in North Carolina? You bet she would. It was even in the town where she’d grown up until her mom had moved them to the west coast. She’d take that as a positive sign.
Rent-a-Mom? Was that a thing? She did a quick Google search and looked them up on the Better Business Bureau. Huh. It was a thing. She knew nothing about children. And nothing about being a mom, since her own mother was more like a lesson in what not to do. She could read child development and parenting books, right? It’s not like she had any other option. She stretched out her hand and clicked “accept.”
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