by Beth Andrews
Because if Andrew asked to live with him, Todd would say no. He’d reject their son the same way he’d rejected her.
“I don’t understand why this is so important to you,” she admitted. “There are so many other sports you could play, nonviolent sports where the risk of you getting hurt is significantly lower.”
“I know,” Andrew said. “But I’m not afraid of getting hurt.”
“I’m afraid of you getting hurt,” she said quietly. It was her greatest fear.
“Yeah, I get that and I understand, but I’m good at football and I like being good at something.”
She leaned back in the chair. “Honey, you’re good at a lot of things.”
He rolled his eyes. Looked at Leo. “She means I’m good at school.”
Was that something to be ashamed of? She straightened. “There’s nothing wrong with being smart.”
“Why can’t I be smart and good at a sport? Look, I’m not afraid of getting hurt because after everything I’ve been through, there’s no fear about stuff like bruises or broken bones or anything. When I play...” He pressed his lips together and seemed to think his next words through. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, sincere and earnest. “When I’m on the field, when I catch a pass and start running, it’s like no one can catch me. Like nothing can touch me. I’m free. For the first time in forever, I feel free. Light. Like I don’t have to be so scared all the time,” he ended in a whisper.
Penelope’s throat tightened. She understood what her son was telling her. The fear that he’d had, that they’d all had when he’d been so sick, would always be with them. Except he’d found a way to forget about it, if only for a few minutes.
She almost envied him.
Every day, every moment, she still lived under that fear, that weight. The constant worry and stress, afraid of tomorrow because she wasn’t sure what it would bring. Clinging to today because for that moment, for those precious hours, her son was with her.
“Tell her, Coach,” Andrew begged, obviously sensing her hesitation.
Leo crossed his ankle over his knee. “What would you like me to say?”
“Tell her all that stuff you told us at our first practice. How football isn’t just a sport about hitting each other and who’s bigger or stronger or faster. How it’s about playing as a unit and learning how to put your ego aside for the betterment of the team. How you can learn plays and the rules, but to play you have to have the heart and the will to be your best. How you want us all to take those lessons off the field into our daily lives. And to work toward thinking of each other as a family and always being mindful of the needs of others.”
When he was done, he was out of breath and almost sweating. Penelope couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her son so passionate, so eloquent.
Leo grinned. “Seems to me you just told her.”
Apparently handsome Leo had a strong influence on her son. She wasn’t sure whether or not to be happy about that. At the moment, though, she had bigger problems—like figuring out how to refuse Andrew’s plea.
“I just don’t feel comfortable letting you play football,” she said.
Andrew nodded. “I know, but how about this? You let me stay on the team—that is—” he glanced at Leo “—if I’m allowed back on. For a month. I’ll keep my grades up and will lose the attitude and you can come to all the practices and games so you understand what’s going on, the rules and everything about football. And then, if I’m still in one piece, we’ll discuss letting me stay on the team permanently.”
She wanted to say no. She wanted to encase him in Bubble Wrap to protect him, but that was extreme, even for her. And she knew it.
“Please, Mom,” Andrew begged, looking and sounding unlike she’d ever seen him. This was important to him. Very important. “Please. I want to be a normal teenager. Just for once.”
He was normal. Perfectly normal. Weren’t most teens sullen and rude from time to time? And even that was a fairly recent development. Up until she and Todd separated, Andrew had been the way she was as a teenager.
Quiet. Polite. Focused on academics.
But when she thought about her high-school days, she wasn’t sure being like her was a good thing or not. She’d put her schoolwork first, had excelled in her studies.
And hadn’t had any friends.
She hadn’t known what to say to her classmates. Hadn’t seemed to share any of the same interests as the other girls, so hadn’t known how to make friends. As a result, she’d spent most weekends at home by herself. Though her parents had assured her she was smart to focus on her studies, she had felt twinges of loneliness. Had wondered if she was missing out on something by not having girlfriends and sleepovers and crushes on boys.
Had wondered if there was something wrong with her.
That didn’t have to be her son’s life. He could have courage and go after what he wanted. For years, Andrew had fought his illness. Now he was fighting to regain his childhood. She couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t change the time he’d spent weak and throwing up, his hair gone, his body racked with pain. They couldn’t go back. But he could move forward—even if she couldn’t.
“You can play,” she said, having to force the words out because she was so afraid of him getting hurt. “But you have to keep your end of the bargain.”
“Really?” he asked, his eyes wide, a huge grin splitting his face. “You mean it?”
No. “Yes.”
“And you’ll come to practices, learn the game so you don’t just say I have to quit after a month?”
How bright was her child? She had considered doing that very thing. “I won’t come to every practice.” She did have a job, after all. “But I will learn all I can about football, and I will come to your games.”
He gave a whoop and rushed over to her, pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a hard hug. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
She hugged him back, not wanting to let go, but knowing she had to. She leaned away. Smiled. “You still have to convince your coach to let you on the team.”
They both turned to look at Leo.
* * *
HOW THE HELL was Leo supposed to say no when Penelope and Drew were staring at him—Penelope warily, Drew with hope in his eyes.
“Can I come back, Coach?” Drew asked.
Leo tapped his fingers on his knee. “You lied to me. To the team.”
The kid nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m really sorry.”
“Being sorry is great, but it’s only a start. If you want to play for me, you need to be respectful of your mother and obey her rules. No sliding by with the grades, either.” All athletes needed to maintain a C average to be eligible to play. “If you’re capable of As, you’d better get As, is that clear?”
Drew nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“No more lies, no getting into trouble anywhere, not at home or at school. There are no three strikes with me. You get two, and only two, chances. You’ve already used up one.” He fixed a long, hard stare on Drew, wanting the kid to realize exactly how serious he was about this two-strikes rule. “First thing you need to do when you get to practice tomorrow is apologize to the rest of the team and the other coaches. Then you need to spend the next month proving you’re willing to work hard to make it up to them, and to me, and to prove to your mother you deserve this chance.”
“So I can play? I’m on the team?”
Leo wasn’t sure this wasn’t a huge mistake, but the kid had obviously already been through a lot.
Besides, everyone deserved a second chance.
He nodded and stood. “I’ll see about clearing things with the athletic director, but yeah, you’re back on the team.”
Drew stuck out his hand. “Thank you, Coach. You won’t regret it.”
Leo shook the kid’s hand. “Make sure I don’t.”
Drew turned to Penelope. “Can I get my phone? Call Luke and tell him?”
“Sure.” Sh
e still looked shell-shocked as she retrieved the cell phone and handed it to Drew.
“Thanks. I’ll do the dishes when I’m done.”
And he was gone, showing some of that impressive speed of his by disappearing before either Leo or Penelope could comment.
“I don’t know whether to be angry at you for getting him so excited about football,” Penelope said, “or grateful. That boy has never, not once in his life, volunteered to help with the dishes.”
Leo stuck his hands in his pockets. “My mom always said kids may not be excited about helping out but they need to do so just the same. She didn’t wait for us to volunteer. She simply told us what to do and expected it to get done.”
“Unfortunately,” Penelope said, sounding snooty and superior, “that doesn’t work with every child.”
He didn’t point out that she wouldn’t know if she didn’t try—it wasn’t his business whether Drew did chores around the house and helped his mother.
“I’ll walk you out,” she continued.
He followed her to the door, stopped when she opened it. “You okay?” he asked.
“No. I’m terrified something’s going to happen to him.”
“You can’t protect him from everything.” If parents could do that, he wouldn’t have seen as many accidents as he had, wouldn’t have had to see the grief and unmentionable loss on Samantha’s parents’ faces the night she died. “Football isn’t without risk and it is a very rough sport. Then again, life isn’t without risk.”
She laughed, though the sound held no humor. “Yes, I’m well versed in that truth.”
He remembered what Drew had said about being sick. Saw how overprotective Penelope was. There must have been something bigger in their past than Leo realized. “Do you mind me asking? About Drew’s illness?”
Her lips thinned. “Leukemia.”
Leo’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped. That explained Drew’s response when Leo had said life wasn’t fair. Christ, the poor kid. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded and crossed her arms. “He got through it. He wasn’t supposed to. At first, the doctors gave him only a thirty percent chance of surviving five years. Yet he somehow pulled through and proved them all wrong.” She leaned against the doorjamb looking tired and vulnerable. “He was first diagnosed when he was eight. We went through three years of treatments and fears.”
“That when you and your husband started having problems?”
“No, we were on decent footing until Andrew was thirteen. In the end, it was too much for us both. My husband...my ex-husband...has a demanding job and wasn’t around the way he could have been until it all got to be too much. Though we separated, we tried working things out for over a year. Until Todd told me he’d found someone else and wanted a divorce. After that, he began to spend less and less time with Andrew. When the divorce was final, it seemed like a good time for Andrew and me to make a new start.”
She paused, staring sightlessly at the floor, as though caught in memory. “I thought he’d outgrow the anger and resentment he has for me. He blames me for the divorce, for tearing him away from his life in California. I thought things were getting better because I’d stuck the course,” she said quietly, finally lifting her gaze to his. “Now I guess any improvement is all thanks to you and some sport where boys run full speed into each other and try to break as many of their opponents’ bones as possible.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Leo said. “Maybe what he needed, what he needs, is something constructive to do with his time. He is really good at football and he has pride in the sport and his ability. And I promise, I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”
It wasn’t a promise he made lightly, because he knew how difficult promises like that were to keep.
“I appreciate it,” she said sincerely, although there was something in her expression that said she knew there was only so much Leo could control. And other than keeping Drew on the bench all the time, he couldn’t guarantee anything.
She sighed and brushed back a loose strand of hair. His fingers twitched to do it for her. He curled them into his palm.
“You can’t protect him,” she said.
“Neither can you.”
She snorted. “I know. He resents that I try. I don’t understand. When he was little, he always turned to me to make things right.”
“He’s not a little kid anymore. He’s a teenager quickly growing into an adult. He’s already been through so much. You both have. Maybe you need to give yourselves some credit.”
“I like to think I do.”
“You want him to respect you? It’s a two-way street, and part of that is respecting his choices, his thoughts and feelings, his wants and what he needs, even when you don’t agree with them.”
“That’s the problem,” she whispered. “I don’t know what he wants or needs. Not anymore. And if I don’t know, how can I make sure he gets it?”
“I’m not a parent so I might be way off base, but it seems to me it’s not your job to make sure he gets everything he wants. Instead, you help him cope when he doesn’t. Help him figure out what’s best for him. I know you’re worried about him playing football, and I get why. His idea about you coming to practices is a good one. You’re welcome anytime, and if you have any questions or concerns whatsoever, let me know.”
He stepped forward, partly because he wanted to be near enough to get a whiff of her subtle floral scent and partly because he liked how nervous she got when he got too close. “You’re a good mom. Maybe you need to worry less about things that are out of your control. Seems to me both you and Drew could use something to focus on other than his illness and worrying he’ll get sick again.”
She smiled, and it was as if he’d been smacked upside the head. “That’s a great idea,” she said, and he loved her dry tone. “I’ll take up crocheting and I’m sure all my worries will disappear.”
He grinned. “Actually, I was thinking of something else.”
“Cross-stitch?”
He was intrigued by Penelope more so now than ever. She was obviously a devoted mother and an intelligent, capable woman, but it was the glimpses of fire and passion that she’d shown that really got to him. The way she had laid into him yesterday at the field was not what he’d expect from such a normally cool customer.
“Go out with me,” he heard himself say and immediately wished the words back. She’d already shot him down, and he wasn’t a glutton for punishment. But he needed to ask one more time. “We’ll have dinner, maybe a drink or two. We’ll talk and enjoy each other’s company and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find yourself going a few hours without those worries.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PENELOPE WAS TEMPTED—more tempted than any woman in her right mind should be. Then again, she was a woman and Leo was leaning toward her, his eyes dark and intense, his mouth curved up. It was impossible to act indifferent. To pretend her hormones weren’t screaming at her to take a walk outside her comfort zone. Yet she’d never been ruled by her body or by her heart.
She used her head.
“As flattering as it is that you’re still interested in dating me,” she said, gripping the door tightly, “I don’t think it’s wise. Especially now that Andrew is playing football for you.”
It was better to keep personal and professional relationships separate, and Leo was now firmly in the professional category—at least where her son was concerned.
His grin widened, and she had absolutely no idea what she’d said or done that was so amusing. “Anyone ever tell you that you think too much?”
She blinked. “No.”
There was no such thing as thinking too much for her parents. Intellectuals, they prided themselves on their intelligence. On their children’s intelligence. Todd had often said he’d been attracted to her mind, to how organized she was. How focused.
Until he’d decided she hadn’t been focused enough on him, that all she ever thought about, cared about was their son.
/> All Andrew ever said was that she worried too much. Nagged too much. Hovered too much.
To the point that some days she felt she couldn’t do anything right.
“Maybe,” Leo said, “it would help if you had something to take your mind off your problems and all those thoughts zinging around in your head.”
His voice was low and husky, his eyes heavy-lidded. Her blood heated; her throat dried. With the dusk behind him, the only light illuminating his features was from the porch, which cast his face in shadows, making the angles appear sharper, his expression somehow predatory and dangerous.
A tingle of awareness climbed her spine, telling her she needed to retreat. Push him away. That this—being close to him with her son upstairs, with the twilight somehow making it seem as though they were the only two people in the world—was a mistake.
She stepped back. “My thoughts are just fine, thank you.”
He chuckled, and Penelope knew he was undeterred. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered, excited or terrified when he moved closer, forcing her to press against the door, her back against the solid wood. “I don’t want you to stop thinking,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth for one heart-stopping second. “Just maybe...focus on something else besides Drew and your worries.” She watched, mesmerized, as Leo lifted a strand of hair at her temple and rubbed it between his fingers, his eyes on the motion. “Isn’t it about time you focused on yourself? On your wants? Your needs?”
Oh. My.
She told herself she was going inside, this very minute, to end this madness before it went completely out of control. Then he lowered his head and she froze. Stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Her eyes wide, her body ready, she waited, helpless, for his kiss. Only to have him shift direction and brush his lips against her cheek.
She jerked. Barely refrained from pressing her fingertips to her cheek where it still felt warm from his mouth. That chaste kiss had definitely made her lose focus—the brush of his lips on her skin had been electric. His fault. It had to be. She’d never responded to a man in such a way before.