Completing the Pass (7 page)

Yes, they'd definitely been in and out of each other's homes too much as children.

“Thank you, Gail, for dinner. Sorry my parents couldn't stay longer.”

“You're welcome, sweetheart.” His mother didn't look up, just waved from where she was wrapping leftovers. “Have Joshua walk you home. It's too dark out to go yourself.”

Both he and Carri looked out the front door simultaneously. It was still pretty damn light out.

“Mom, I think—”

“I'll be fine on my—”

“No arguments,” Gail said, voice sharp. “Joshua, walk that girl home or you'll hear about it from me.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said mildly, slipping into his loafers without another word.

***

“Your mom's scary.”

“Your mom's no better,” Josh said, walking beside her down the driveway.

They walked in silence for a few feet. “The moms are at it again.”

“Matchmaking?” Josh shoved his hands into his khaki pockets. “Yeah, I noticed. You're not staying long, so who cares?”

She wanted to correct his assumption, but decided it was pointless. After another few moments of silence, she huffed. “Slow down, damn it. I'm in sandals.”

He froze, looked back at her, then down at her feet, then the distance between them. “Sorry. Habit.”

“I know. I think
slow down
was a major part of my childhood vocabulary.” She caught up with him, then wrapped an arm around his to keep him from walking away. Also something she'd done as a child, but more to annoy him than anything. Josh had hated being hobbled by a girl when running around the neighborhood with his guy pals.

“I'm sorry about your dad,” he said after another few moments. Crickets sang in the bushes that lined the street while they walked, providing another trip down memory lane.

“Today was a good day. Sort of,” she amended, reminded of her father's outburst after dessert. “It's moving so fast. I don't know how . . . But then again, I guess Mom kept a lot of his gradual decline quiet from me. Not being here, I didn't see it, so it feels more abrupt.”

“If she hid it, you couldn't have known. You don't have a crystal ball.”

It was a supportive, kind thing to say. So very unlike Josh.

“Stop beating yourself up about it,” he added. “It's annoying.”

Oh, there he was. The Josh she loved to loathe.

“I'm not beating myself up. And if it's annoying, then just turn around and walk back home. Don't say your mom would kill you,” she broke in, shutting that shit down before it began. “I know you know how to take the long way home and count it out until it's safe to go back in.”

“We know too much about each other,” he groused. She just tugged on his arm, jerking him off balance a step. He let out a sound in his throat that was akin to a growl.

Her body tingled at the sound. Why?

They turned down her street and she let go of his arm. Another thirty seconds brought them to her driveway, and she started up. “Thanks for the walk home.”

“I'm not done yet.”

She turned to ask what he meant, but realized he wasn't behind her in the street. He was a few steps ahead of her in the driveway. “Josh, you don't have to—”

“Yes, I do. Because my mother would kill me, even if she's not here to see. You know Gail has radar.”

“She does. I think it's government issued to all mothers in the labor-and-delivery wing.” Following him to the front door, which she could see her mother had left cracked behind the screen, she waited until they got to the covered porch. “Thanks again, even though.”

“You're welcome, even though.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don't look now, but we've got an audience.”

Carri stiffened. “You can't be serious.”

“I've told you, I'm very popular. You just didn't believe me.” He grinned. “Adoring fans, paparazzi, that sort of thing.”

She raised a brow. “It's my mother, isn't it?”

“Peeking out the bay window from your parents' bedroom,” he confirmed.

It was an image Carri didn't need to turn around to see in her mind. Many a date from her teen years had ended the same way. “She's insane.”

“Insanity: also issued in the maternity wing.”

They both grinned.

“See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” she said, waving a little as he headed back down. When he reached the street, she called out, “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated, hand on the front door. “Good luck at training camp.”

He watched her a moment, then nodded once. “Thanks.”

“Don't fuck it up.”

That made him shake his head, and he walked away without looking back.

Josh showed up to training camp unsure of what to expect. The team had been briefed that Trey was taking it easy to heal faster, and were asked to keep their mouths shut about it.

As far as the media knew, it was another season, nothing to talk about. But the moment Trey Owens limped onto the practice field, clearly not ready to play, Josh feared the jig was up.

“Hey,” Trey said, slowly walking to where Coach Barnes and Josh stood. “Sorry, took me a bit longer than anticipated to get here.”

“Are you cleared for practice?” Barnes barked, loud enough that Josh jumped a little.

“I'm cleared to be here,” Trey said coolly. The guy was unflappable.

“I mean, are you cleared for practice. Don't bullshit me, Owens.”

Coach Barnes had to be one of about five people on the planet who weren't impressed with Trey Owens.

“I'm not,” Trey admitted. “But I'm allowed to be out here, so I'm here. I can throw a little.”

Barnes gave him a long, assessing look, then shook his head. “My luck, you'll step to throw, step on a cone and go down like a sack of potatoes. You stand, or you sit. That's all. And keep an eye on Leeman.”

“I'm right here,” Josh muttered, taking a step back when the coach turned eyes on him. “Sorry, sir.”

“Warm up,” he growled, then walked away toward Coach Jordan.

“Pleasant fellow,” Trey said mildly, stretching his arms as if he were actually going to participate.

“How's the ankle?” Josh asked. Behind him, he heard reporters and photographers yelling frantically for Trey's attention. Trey didn't turn around. “The adoring public wants to know.”

“It's . . . still attached.” Looking hesitant, Trey bent over to stretch his hamstrings. “Between you and me, it's not healing as fast as I thought it would. Cass says I'm getting too old for this shit. Maybe she's right.”

“Not a chance,” Josh said loyally. “So you're definitely out for preseason. No big. You'll just surprise everyone when you step onto the field for game one.”

Trey looked down at his ankle, both taped and wrapped with supportive athletic wrap. His running shoe was loosely laced, and the whole thing looked half-again as big as his other ankle. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Josh felt the first tingle of worry, but shook it off. “Business as usual, right?”

“Business as usual,” Trey agreed. “Hey, when we get home, you should come over for a cookout. It's about all Cassie and I can manage, food-wise, that tastes good. But we have some guys over often enough.”

“Sure, yeah.” Josh wouldn't have called himself a loner by nature. But he'd just managed to feel more comfortable with his childhood friends than with the team. “That'd be good.”

“Leeman! Jesus Christ, you gonna stretch all day? Let's go! We've got work to do!”

“Cinderella, Cinderella,” Trey sang under his breath. “Enjoy the attention.”

Josh narrowed his gaze at Trey's seemingly innocent face, then jogged over to Coaches Barnes and the offensive coordinator.

***

Carri sat with her father on the sidelines and watched as Josh ran a play. It looked a bit silly, to her way of thinking. He wasn't dressed for football, or what she'd expected of football. He wore his helmet and a Bobcats jersey, but no padding, and only athletic shorts and running shoes. He did some sort of hike-hike thing where he was bent over, showcasing his—admittedly fine—ass, then would step back, fake a few times to go around invisible defenders, and throw toward a target. He hit it more times than not, but he still missed enough that her father groaned beside her with each one.

“Dad, you sure you're okay?” she asked when he made another painful sound in his throat and shuffled on his seat. “We can go. It's so hot out, I'm worried—”

“Don't start. You sound like your mother when you badger me. I want to see Josh play, and so we're here to watch.” He made another sound when Trey Owens stepped up, put a hand on Josh's shoulder, and extended his arm as if throwing a ball himself. “What's that Owens doing to our boy?”

“He's not our boy, Dad.”
Much as you wanted a son . . . Sorry about that.
“And Trey Owens is the
actual
quarterback of the team. I think if he wants to show Josh something, Josh should probably listen.”

“Josh does just fine on his own . . . except for missing those targets.”

“He's close enough,” Carri argued.

Herb just made another sound of displeasure and crossed his arms.

They'd found a shaded spot on the bleachers, but she still vowed to leave within a half hour. Coming to the training camp for day one had been her father's idea. Carri was sick of being cooped up with him in the house, and since he'd been having a pretty lucid day, she agreed to drive him the ninety minutes to the facility. She'd never been before—hadn't had a desire to see it—but her father had.

Even as he grumped and whined, she saw the excitement layered underneath. The happiness of being out of his house, of having a good, solid mental day. She was glad she'd done this. Maeve would have a litter of kittens when she realized what Carri had done, but it was worth it.

Josh went back for another fake hike-thing, and Carri didn't bother ignoring his pretty excellent ass. Even without those tight football pants—clearly, a woman had designed those uniforms—his butt was outlined in the thin mesh shorts to perfection. She watched his fingers flex over the pigskin, his forearms brace, his calf muscles bunch as he rose on his toes in ready anticipation.

Then he exploded into motion, and her breath caught in her chest, watching as he faked, dipped, and threw the ball while still on the run, hitting the target dead center.

She let out a low whoosh of relief, and realized she'd clenched her hands while watching.

A whistle blew, and Carri let out a small sigh of relief. If that was the end of practice, she had an excuse to drive her father home now, get him out of the heat. The players on the field all ran toward the middle, where the head coach—she knew that much—motioned for them to join him.

“Looks like they're finished. Let's get a head start for the parking lot before—”

“I want an autograph.”

“Dad.” Carri bit back a sharp retort. “You see Josh at least once a month at Gail's house. You can get an autograph there.”

“I want one here. And I want one from a few other players.” The stubborn set of his jaw told Carri there was no use in arguing. She couldn't exactly drag him from the arena. She'd have to wait.

They watched, along with other spectators of the training camp, as the guys walked over to where the press stood first. Several stopped to answer questions, pose for photos or write something. Josh appeared to blend into the background, taking up very little space and even less attention. Carri's heart would have hurt for him, except that she was pretty sure he liked it that way.

Trey stood off to the side, commanding the largest clump of reporters. He spoke animatedly, laughing a few times while others laughed with him. She couldn't hear what was said, but after a few moments, someone with a camera approached Josh.

Carri watched, as one by one, those who had been standing with Trey migrated toward where Josh stood. Trey eventually walked over himself, hooking an arm around Josh's neck and pulling him in for a side hug.

Finally, the players made their way to tables set up under tents on the other end of the field. They were divided by positions, Carri could tell because she noticed the same groupings of guys who had practiced together were sitting together. Trey had his own table with someone sitting beside him who appeared to be an assistant or an intern handling his items. Josh sat at a table beside Trey, looking uncomfortable.

A Bobcats employee released the fans one section at a time to go down and collect autographs.

“Dad, are you sure?” she asked as their section was released. “We can catch him anytime at home. If we leave now, we can beat the traffic and be home before mom even knows we were gone.”

Herb shook his head, wiping at his forehead under the hat Carri had forced him to wear. “I wanna see my boy on the field and get his autograph properly.”

With a sigh, Carri wrapped her arm around his and led him down the bleachers at a snail's pace. By the time they reached the field, the next section of bleachers had been released and were ahead of them. But she was in no rush.

Trey's line was the longest, with a few other big-name players she recognized having their own decent showing. Carri felt a little bad for the new guys who sat there looking lonely, or embarrassed because nobody was coming to them or only coming over after they'd run out of bigger names to hit up.

But before they could get to Josh's table, a gaggle of girls who had just left Trey's area approached. They seemed excited to meet Josh, which made Carri roll her eyes.

“Here we go.” Herb pulled out the program they'd picked up upon entering the facility and waited in line until they could advance. Josh took the program first without looking up.

“Hey there . . . Herb?” His eyes widened, then bounced between Carri and her father. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Came to see you, ya moron,” Herb said, and Carri cringed. But Josh just chuckled and held out a hand.

“Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.” His gaze caught hers, and he nodded slightly. “Thanks for bringing him.”

“No problem,” she said lightly, because she could tell it meant a lot to him. She might give him shit regularly in private, but she wouldn't do anything to embarrass him where he worked.

“Gettin' some play time out there?” Herb asked, his voice a little louder than socially acceptable. Several people stopped talking nearby to listen in.

“Dad, lower your voice, please,” she whispered by his shoulder.

“Just out practicing,” Josh countered, signing the program next to his individual picture on the quarterbacks page. Clearly, he'd signed enough of these that already he knew exactly which page he was on. “Trey can throw circles around me, so I need more practice time than he does.”

“Bullshit,” Herb announced.

“Dad,” Carri said sharply.

“Well, it is!” Her father shook off her hand as she made to grab for his elbow.

“And that's why Dad was an office manager and not a football coach,” she put in for effect, and a few people chuckled behind her. She closed her eyes briefly, thankful she was able to stave off the embarrassment.

Josh looked torn, as if not sure whether to laugh or to duck under the table.

Trey leaned over. “Friends of yours, Leeman?” he asked with a grin.

“This is my son!” Herb declared proudly.

“No, no, no.” Carri ran a hand over her face. Where was a sinkhole when you needed one to jump into? “He's
like
a son, Dad.”

“Family friends,” Josh explained to Trey.

“Well, send 'em back over to the VIP section,” Trey suggested. “Here. Mari can show them the way.” He tapped the person sitting beside him, and she immediately popped up. She was probably in college, or maybe a recent graduate. Eager little beaver. “Catch up with them after the signing.”

“There,” Herb said, satisfied. He grabbed Carri's arm and dragged her along behind the intern or assistant. “We'll see you in the VIP section, Joshua.”

Carri mouthed
I'm sorry
as she traipsed behind her father.

Josh just shook his head and mouthed
It's okay
back.

***

Josh couldn't help but keep Carri in his peripheral vision in the VIP tent. Even as he introduced a number of Bobcats to the older man—who alternated from calling Josh his son to asking where everyone had come from and seeming confused as to why he was there—Josh kept watch of Carri. A few guys had introduced themselves, and Matt Peterson had taken a great deal of time talking to her. At one point, he'd even had her laughing hard enough she'd covered her mouth in that way he knew she did when she was afraid she was going to snort.

Noting Herb was talking quietly with one of the assistant coaches, Josh wandered over to where Carri stood. Just as he got there, he watched Matt reach out and tug a piece of her short black hair playfully. Carri laughed again, then reciprocated with one of Matt's beloved dreads.

“Hey, what's going on?” he asked, fighting back the desire to scowl at the defensive lineman. “Trading hair tips?”

“Hardly,” Carri said. “I'd die if my hair were this thick. I don't know how you get your helmet on over all that hair.”

Matt gave her a bright grin. “Honey, it's just a little extra padding. Keeps my head safe.”

She smiled at that.

“Remember that time one of your dreads got ripped out during a play?” Josh asked.

Both Matt and Carri turned to look at him with confused expressions.

That?
That
was your brilliant segue into getting Carri away from him?

“Uh, you know . . . because it was funny,” he added, wanting to kick himself. “Right. Carri, I think your dad wanted you.”

“Oh, of course.” She held out a hand for Matt and shook. “It was nice to meet you. Good luck this season with, you know, hitting people and stuff.”

He snorted. “You know nothing about the game, do you?”

“Next to nothing, yeah.” She lifted a shoulder in a way that told them both she'd heard it before—she had, Josh had made fun of her for it—and didn't care to remedy the situation. “But now I know a few more Bobcats, so I'll be paying attention to your record.”

“What we like to hear. See ya around, Carrington.” With a wink, Matt left them and Josh took her elbow to guide her away.

“Where's Dad?”

“Talking with one of the coaches. He's fine.” Josh pulled her to a corner of the tent and stopped. “Are you hitting on Matt?”