Page 79 of The Fake Out

I turned at the sound of my name and smiled.

Mrs. Knight rushed across the sitting area toward the glass where I stood. She was decked out in jeans, a pin-striped number 21 Revs jersey, and a Boston Revs baseball cap. Beaded bracelets circled both wrists, making her by far the most devoted-looking fan in the suite. She had to be close to sixty, but by the way she looked like she was going to hurdle the seats in a rush to get across the room, you’d never know it.

Without a pause, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tight.

“You are just as perfect in person,” she said, patting my cheek, her accent thick.

My face heated. “Um, thank you?”

“I’m obsessed with your eyelashes.”

Behind her, the other three Knights were all sporting number 21 as well. My stomach spun. Shit. I was the only one in the suite not sporting Revs or Metros gear. Even Mila had on a Boston tee.

One of Emerson’s sisters, Yvette, I thought, stepped closer and invaded my space as much as her mother had. “I want all the lash secrets. Because those look real.”

“Way to have chill,” her sister snickered.

“None of you have chill.” The deep voice was so similar to Emerson’s, I might have been fooled if I didn’t know he was down on the field. “I’m Andre. The better-looking Knight brother.”

I didn’t agree. Not that I’d tell him that. The brothers were probably the same height, but where Emerson was all lean lines and tight muscle, Andre was softer. His features weren’t as defined, and he sported none of the scruff that peppered Emerson’s jaw.

“The look on Gianna’s face totally called you a liar, Andre,” Yvette teased.

Isabella giggled. “Pretty and smart. What a combo.”

The back-and-forth felt so normal, so much like the way Chris and I had bantered my entire life. I’d known these people for minutes, and already, I understood how Emerson fit so well with Avery, Pop, and Chris.

“Enough.” Mrs. Knight snapped her fingers at her children. “Leave the poor girl alone. Your brother will skin you all if you scare her off.”

She shooed them away and turned back to me. “Come sit with me. We will get to know each other.”

She reached up and patted my cheek again. And although I knew I was about to sit through an inquisition. The warmth that flooded off Mrs. Knight in waves put me at ease. Until the first question, that was.

“Tell me about my son.” She cocked her head, studying me with knowing hazel eyes.

Tell her about her own son? How could I even begin? There were so many things I could say, but she probably knew him better than anyone.

I looked down onto the field where he stood with his team and considered the options. What wouldn’t she get to see?

“He’s the giver in every situation. Always passing out smiles or high fives or offering a supportive shoulder to lean on. He’ll happily cook for his friends and always offers himself up when someone is in need.” I couldn’t pull my eyes from him as he tossed ball after ball into the stands after Mason Dumpty had signed them. “I just want him to learn he’s worth enough to receive that kind of kindness too. He deserves as much joy as he spreads every day.” My voice cracked on the last word, so I cleared my throat. Why the hell was I getting emotional about this? “Sorry.” I turned back to her, only to find her blinking back tears.

“You and me? We are good.” She grasped my hand and gently tugged it closer. “But you don’t let him go on stealing the eggs for long, mi hija.”

I had no idea what me ha meant, nor did I have any idea what eggs he was stealing, but I didn’t want to upset her.

“Uh?” I worried my lower lip, racking my brain for an appropriate response.

She chuckled, the skin at her temples crinkling. “It’s milk.” With a pat to my hand, she released me and fanned herself. “The saying is about buying cows and stealing milk. But personally, I don’t see why any woman would want to be a cow. I’d much rather be the chicken.”

“The chicken?” I asked, confusion swirling inside me.

She nodded. “Yes. Because the hens get all the good cocks.”

My mouth fell open, and my face heated, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “Mrs. Knight!”

She smirked. “Mama Knight, mi hija. Everyone calls me Mama knight.”

I nodded, hit with a wave of gentle affection for the woman. “Okay. Mama Knight.”

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