Page 93 of Empty Net

Keller: Settling down is for the weak. No offense, Fox.

Fox: Thanks?

Lawson: Stop being such a sourpuss, Kells.

Keller: Why? I’ve perfected the scowl. No reason not to keep using it.

Lawson: You’re never going to get a woman like that. They don’t like scowling.

Keller: Not what your mom said.

Hayes: Walked right into that one, Lawsy.

Hutch: Speak for yourself on the scowling thing. Women like it just fine, Keller. Trust me.

Lawson: Ah, yes, Mr. Grump Butt. How could I forget Auden’s little nickname for you?

Hutch: If you know what’s best for you, you’ll forget it.

Lawson: I’m not afraid of you.

Hutch: You should be.

Fox: Guys…

Lawson: Yeah, Hutchy, settle down.

Fox: I was talking to you, too, Lawson.

Lawson: Hey, be nice or I won’t be your best man.

Fox: For the last time, you are NOT my best man.

Lawson: We’ll see about that.

CHAPTER 17

FOX

“Arthur Francis Fox!”

I pull the phone away from my ear, though it doesn’t do much considering how loudly my mother screeches at me. It’s a damn good thing I didn’t answer this back in the locker room. Everyone would have heard her.

I suppose she has every right. I have been engaged for weeks now and have yet to tell her about it. I knew the moment I saw I had four missed calls from her, she’d found out about it. I’ve been psyching myself up to call her back ever since.

I should have called her when it first happened. I know that. But I’ve been avoiding it, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because I didn’t want to hear her get her hopes up just to let her down. Or maybe because I wasn’t ready to admit just what a mess I’d gotten myself into. I don’t know. All I know is it’s time to face the music and hope my mother doesn’t completely hate me afterward.

“Hi, Mama,” I say, climbing into my Denali in the parking lot of the practice barn.

“Boy!” she hollers, her voice filling every inch of the cab of my truck. “Don’t you ‘mama’ me. Explain yourself.”

“I’m not sure what I’m in trouble for.” I play stupid, but it’s pointless. We both know what this call is about.

“Bullshit.” My mother doesn’t curse often, so when she does, I know she means it. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told me you weren’t dating anyone, and now I seethis. On the internets, no less!”

“Internet, Mama. Not internets.”

“I don’t care what it’s called! I want an explanation.”

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