“Boys!” That’s Rosa Canó’s greeting when she sees us from the other side of their enormous backyard.
She’s all wide smile and open arms. She has the complete opposite of Josephine’s reaction to me and most things in life, even if they do look like carbon copies of each other, with their olive complexion, dark curls, and beautiful hazel almond-shaped eyes. They have the kind of face that you can’t look away from, beautiful and expressive. Mrs. Canó has a bangin’ body too, not that I’m trying to check her out or anything, but she usually wears dresses that hug her curves and hit just below the knee. Today, she’s wearing khaki pants and a white blouse though. Still, total MILF. Not that I’d ever fuck her. I mean, I hooked up with her daughter for God’s sake. The mother-daughter thing is more of Maverick’s speed, not mine, and definitely not Mitchell’s. She gives each of us a warm hug and firm kiss on the cheek when we reach her, then holds us by the arms and gives us a once-over like a proud mother.
“You are just so handsome.” She smiles. “I’m so happy to have you here. You know, I told your mother you could stay here, but she insisted the three of you had places to live. We have plenty of space.” She waves a hand at the mansion behind her.
“Thanks for the offer,” Mitch says, “but you definitely don’t want Maverick living with you. Even Jagger won’t room with him.”
“Is that so?” She laughs, looking at me.
“He’s too messy.” I smile, looking around. “Where’s Henry?”
“He’s barbecuing right over there.” She points to the other side of the pool, where I see a very animated Dr. Henry Canó flipping burgers with one hand and holding a cold Presidente in the other. “Grab a beer, go mingle. The point of this barbecue is to meet new people. There are coaches and professors and parents and new students. I’m sure they’ll all be wanting to talk to three star athletes.” Rosa winks and walks away.
“Man, I miss Mom,” Maverick says beside me.
“Me too,” I sigh.
“Same,” Mitch agrees.
“Yo, does Rosa know you’re living with Jo?” Mav asks, turning to me.
“Hell no she doesn’t know,” Mitchell says. “She would have said something.”
“You know how they are.” I shrug a shoulder. “They’re so strict I’m surprised Jo and Misty are allowed out of the house.”
“They can’t be that strict still,” Mitch says.
“No? Why’d you sneak around with Misty when you were together that summer?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“That’s different. We were teenagers. We’re adults now.”
“You think Ma thinks I’m an adult?” Maverick asks. “She freaking sent a cleaning lady and had food delivered to me every day last week.”
“That’s because you’re a fucking baby.” I shoot him a look. “Neither of us got that treatment.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mitch snickers. “I put a stop to it quick though.”
“Yeah, when the cleaning lady caught you fucking that cheerleader,” I said.
“Right.” Mitch chuckles. “Damn, that was embarrassing.”
“You shouldn’t have given her a key to your place, dummy,” Mav adds. Mitch shrugs a shoulder.
“I never got a cleaning lady.” I frown.
“That’s because you’re a control freak. Ma knows better than to send you anything. She’d never hear the end of it,” Mav says. “It must be firstborn syndrome because I definitely don’t understand it.”
“No, you don’t.” I grin. Mav shakes his head.
“Let’s grab a beer. You know the Presidente’s are dressed like brides here, as Dad would say.” Mitch winks, switching from English to Spanish half-way through the sentence. My brother always turns up his Dominican slang when we’re around other Dominicans and I can’t help but to laugh as we make our way in the direction of Dr. Canó.
When we reach him, he sets the burger he’s grilling on a plate, along with the spatula. He opens his arms wide and grins at us. Henry Canó is a big man. He’s a former baseball player himself, who could have absolutely gone to the majors like Dad, but he tore a ligament early on in his minor league career and decided to hang up his cleats and pursue a degree in medicine. Dad respects him more than he respects anyone else in the world. He always says Henry knew what he was doing when he walked away from the game and that he’s the most successful person he knows, despite Dad making a lot more money than him. We grew up thinking of Henry as some sort of god, and him being all of our godfather meant we saw him pretty often before we settled in New York for good and the Canós settled down in the middle of North Carolina, something I never understood, as a city guy.
“Well, would you look at what the cat dragged in,” he boasts, brown eyes dancing. “My dudes. Damn you’re huge. When did this happen?”
“Mav just passed dad in height this summer and never leaves the gym.” I go in for a hug and pull away so my brothers can do the same.
“Wow.” He shakes his head, looking at the three of us with a chuckle. “This is wild.” He looks over at Mitch. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“My training starts next week.” Mitch smiles.
“Are you excited about it? I bet you are.”
“I think Dad’s more excited than I am,” Mitch says with a laugh. “But yeah, I mean, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“There’s a lot of talks about you going to the majors. How are you feeling about it?” Henry asks.
“I feel like I don’t want to jinx anything.” Mitch shrugs. “Carson signed this summer.”
“You could have signed as well,” I point out.
“Eh.” Mitch cocks his head as if he’s not so sure. Henry looks at me and shrugs a shoulder.
My brother doesn’t like talking about it much because as he says, he doesn’t want to jinx anything, but I get a feeling there’s a lot more to it. He’s had a few opportunities and passed on them for different reasons. I’m not one to judge, but it drives me crazy to see someone I know can succeed actually take a chance on it. Deep down, I think he’s constantly comparing himself to dad. I guess in a way we all are, but Mav and I don’t play baseball, so even though we live in our father, the man’s shadow, we don’t live in our father, the baseball god’s shadow. Mitch does.
“That’s the one you introduced me to during your last game last season?” Henry asks, taking the spotlight away from my obviously uncomfortable brother.
“Yep. The short stop. He’s going to play for the Astros now.”
“Amazing. You do you, Mitchell. Don’t worry about everyone else.” Henry smiles, then looks over at me and gets serious. “Why haven’t you come to see me? Your father said your shoulder is still acting up.”
“I was planning on going soon.” I glance down briefly because I hate being under his scrutinizing gaze. “Coach said—”
“I don’t care what your coach said. Tell him you’re coming to the practice to do physical therapy from now on, every week. If you want to see the field again, you need to stay on top of this.”
“Dad’s dying for him to switch to baseball. Coach Wallace said he’d put him straight on the roster, but you know these guys with their football and hockey dreams.” Mitch rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “I mean seriously, how many Dominicans that you know play hockey?”
“This is America, Mitch. That means we can do whatever the hell we want. The only reason dad played baseball was that it was the only sport available to him.” I reach for three beers in the cooler beside us and hand one to each of my brothers. “Besides, the adrenaline isn’t the same in baseball.”
“I think he’s fine right where he is.”
Henry takes a swig of his beer and looks around. “Have you met any of the people here? There are a lot of former players, not that you don’t meet great athletes all the time, but these people are from your alma mater.”
“We just got here,” Mav says. “I’m definitely looking forward to seeing some basketball players.”
“Walk around. There’s food on the tables over there. You already know to make yourselves at home.” Henry takes some hot dogs and sets them on the grill. My brothers and I are walking away when he stops me. “Jag. A word please.”
“Sure.” I nod at my brothers, who are idling around wondering if they should stay behind. Once they start walking away, I turn my attention to Henry.
“What have you been doing for your shoulder?”
“Honestly? Not much.” I take a long sip of beer. “I was doing therapy in New York, but . . . ” I glance away momentarily, hoping to avert the situation but knowing it’ll be impossible.
“Don’t you want to heal your shoulder?”
“Of course.” When I meet his eyes, he’s watching me closely.
“So come by the practice.”
“I have to see when I have time to with classes and—”
“Come by on Monday after five. It’ll be closed by then, but I’ll be able take a look at it myself and see what I can do.”
“I can’t ask you to stay there late for me.”
“You didn’t ask me to do that.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m telling you to do it.”
I nod, because there’s no way out of this. Henry is like a brother to my father and they speak often enough that if I don’t go to his practice he’ll mention it to my father, who’s been telling me to go over there since I got here.
“Go. Enjoy yourself.” He nods toward the lawn. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“See you Monday.” I smile and walk away and join my brothers, who are already talking to a group of guys.
Chapter 11
Jagger
We’re there long enough for me to get a second beer before Josephine opens the door to the back of the house. She’s wearing a jean mini skirt that show off her long, defined legs, a white T-shirt that’s tied up and shows off just a bit of her toned stomach, and checkered Vans. I know most guys want to see women in lingerie or naked, but she is my literal wet dream. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her, and it’s because of it that I look away, trying to pay attention to the conversation going on in front of me. I think they’re still comparing Lebron to Jordan, but I can’t be sure. When Steph Curry comes up in conversation, I know I’m definitely far behind. Still, better to pretend I’m paying attention than look over at Jo again.
“Damn, she’s hot.” My eyes snap up to the guy across from me who spoke the words. He’s on the hockey team. A junior who said he’s not finishing the year because he’ll be drafted in November. All eyes follow to see where he’s looking and sure enough, it’s Josephine.
“She’s like a sister to us,” Mav says, making a face.
Mitch shoots me a smirk as he takes a sip of beer. I shoot him a look that says don’t mess with me right now. He looks away with the same damn smirk. Jo may be one of our oldest friends, but she’s never been like a sister to me. Or maybe she was before I noticed how damn pretty she was, but that was four years ago and I haven’t stopped wanting her since. I can’t stand it sometimes. I can’t stand her most times. Not because she’s not cool or funny or straight up hot as hell, but because I genuinely thought there was something more between us before she started dating Lawrence. Then again, I thought he was my friend before he went behind my back and started going after her. It wouldn’t even bother me if I hadn’t told him I had my eye on her. Some would say the fault is mine for not moving fast enough. I still think he’s an asshole.
“I’d ask her out, but I’m scared of Dr. Canó.” The guy wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll ask her to come to my draft party, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“Maybe you should do whatever you think you’re going to do before November,” another guy says. “She just broke up with Lawrence.”
“Damn that bastard. I knew he was cheating on her, but I didn’t realize how bad it was,” guy number one says. “I just don’t understand who would cheat on that.”
“An idiot,” guy number two says.
I can’t disagree with them there, but I finish off my beer and walk away. Standing by while they’re fawning over Jo is definitely not my idea of a good time. I toss the glass bottle into the recycling can and look up to see Jo standing in the corner texting furiously. I walk over to her, reminding myself that no one will think anything of this. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We had a lot of firsts together. I cringe inwardly thinking about the last time we actually spent time together before this semester. The party we bumped into each other at was wild, to say the least, and things got out of hand faster than I anticipated. We’d both been drinking, but we weren’t drunk. We couldn’t blame the alcohol for what we did. For years I’ve played the scenario over in my head. For years I’ve thought about and fantasized what it would be like having her underneath me again. For years I’ve tried just as hard to block it out, especially when I find myself on the field playing against Lawrence, but most of the time in those situations I wish I played defense instead of offense, because I would love to light his ass up once and for all. I take a breath when I’m almost at her side and remind myself to stop being an asshole and start being nice. It’s the only way I can fix what happened and the only way we’ll survive rooming together.
Chapter 12
Jo
I’m putting my phone in the back pocket of my skirt when Jagger sidles up beside me. My heart skips a beat unwillingly even before I glance over and see that he’s wearing khakis and a short sleeve button-down. I swear the man makes everything look good.
“I hate this party. I always skip it,” I say, leaving out the part where I always skip it because I always go to Duke’s mixer that lands on the same day.
“It’s all right. Free food, cold beer. I mean, what more can you want?”
“You’re such a guy.” I snort, shaking my head.
“Can’t argue there.” He shrugs a shoulder. “So. You haven’t told your parents.”
“About our living arrangement?” I face him quickly, eyes wide. “No, did you?”
“Of course not.” He scowls. “I just don’t understand why you haven’t told them.”
“You know why.”
“No, I really don’t.” He says the words slowly, as if to give me an opportunity to mull it over.
I roll my eyes instead. Does he know nothing about my parents? They’ve always given my sister and me enough freedom to make our own mistakes, but living with a guy before we’re married or at least engaged? That would be a huge no-no. They’re very traditional in that regard and in a way, so are we. Lawrence asked me to move in with him and I gave him a definitive no. I know living with a Cruz brother would probably set my mother’s mind at ease in a sense, because she seems to like them more than she likes Misty and me most days, but still. She was the one who laid down the gauntlet without giving me a chance to explain or redeem myself in regard to the car accident. It was my mother who came up with the idea of me footing the bill for the crashed luxury car and I am not going to give her any news that may be good news. Not if I can help it.
“They’d make it a huge deal,” I say finally. “Also, me rooming with a guy? My mom would have a heart attack.”
“I don’t think you’re giving your mom enough credit. We’re not living together in a romantic way. We’re roommates.”
“Yes, I know.” I look away from him and out to the party. When I spot his brothers, who are looking at us along with the two guys they’re talking to, I smile and wave at them before turning back to the least nice Cruz brother. “We also share a bathroom.”
“I’m well aware. We’ve been living together for two days and you already clogged up the shower with your hair.”
“I did not.” My face pulls. “I pick up my hair after I wash it.”
“Yet it was clogging the drain.” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I took care of it.”
I cross my arms. Jagger loves to get the last word in and I’m going to let him. The last couple of years of dating a popu
lar football player, I’ve learned to pick my battles. Some people are just too competitive for their own good.
“The point is, I’m not going to tell them about our living arrangement.”
“That’s fine.” He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not like I’m going around announcing it to the world.”
“Good.”
“Sure.” I shrug a shoulder back, keeping my arms crossed.
“Are you sticking around?”
“Probably not. Misty texted that she’s not coming and I’m over athletes.”
“You’re over athletes?” He chuckles. “Aren’t you an athlete?”
“Was.”
“What happened with that?” He turns to face me fully, genuine interest in his eyes. “UNC is a D1 school. You had to be great to be on the team.”
“I guess.” I turn away slightly.
The last thing I want is to get into this conversation, but if I know one thing about Jagger it’s that he won’t drop it. He’ll either run me down today or tomorrow or the next day but he will get to the bottom of it one way or another.
“So, what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know I’m not the only one asking you this.”
“What happened to your shoulder?” I meet his gaze. “Are you getting back on the field this season?”
“Fair.” His lips purse and he turns away.
I’m about to open my mouth to apologize because I didn’t mean it to sound that . . . mean . . . but I decide not to. He would have kept picking at my sore had I not fired that question at him, so I shouldn’t need to be any different. After a few moments, I decide to leave. I don’t want to stand there with Jagger and I definitely don’t want to speak to anyone at the party, especially now. If people are going to start asking me why I’m not playing volleyball, I may end up losing my shit and crying the rest of the afternoon and I’m not up for it. As it is, I’m emotionally spent from it all. I don’t need more reminders about how royally I fucked up my life.
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