Page 82 of Hot Receiver

I make the girls breakfast and leave them in the living room with huge bowls of cereal and Netflix before I head into my bedroom to call Mom.

She answers on the first ring, her voice tense. “Matthew, why didn’t you take any of my calls last night?”

This probably isn’t the time to come out and tell her I was in a hospital chapel pining for the man I love, so I go with another approach.

“I was at an event with Anna and shut off my ringer. Forgot to turn it back on when I got home.” I sink onto my bed. “You could say I was a little surprised to see the girls at my door this morning, especially after our phone call before the game on Sunday.”

Mom lets out a sigh. “I know. And I thought about everything you said. You were right. The girls’ safety is most important.”

“Are you going to let me keep them? Because having them stay out of the line of fire for a few weeks isn’t going to protect them forever, especially if you’re not gonna get Dad the help he needs.”

A long pause follows.

I ball up my hand and pound the mattress. “This is nothing more than a vacation for them if you don’t do something, Mom. I can help you get him set up in a facility. I can make sure you have a new place to live, one that’s safe. Let me do this, okay? I want to?—”

“Matthew,” she snaps. “We can handle this. You don’t need to throw your money around at a solution. Your father knows what he can lose if he doesn’t change his ways.”

“Yeah, but does he care?” I shoot up from the bed, a stress knot popping up at the base of my skull. “Because for years, he’s taken the money without a second thought and pissed it away on things that can hurt everyone he supposedly loves.”

“I will handle this. We appreciate your help and always have. But you’re not the parent here.”

“I’m the only one who seems to be thinking like one,” I grumble.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Mom says coldly. “I sent the girls to you as a precaution, just like you asked.”

My stomach knots. I believethatas much as I believe the moon is made of fucking cheese.

Something happened, and she’s not telling me about it.

She sent the girls here because she knows there’s a risk to them, and the guilt finally ate into her enough to fucking do something about it.

“I’m glad you did,” I say, my throat tight. I know my mother. She shuts down when she feels like she’s being backed into a corner, and she’s just hit the wall. “I’ll take good care of them.”

We say a civil goodbye, and I fall back onto my bed, covering my face with my hands.

Jesus Christ, how much more shit is going to be shoveled over me today?

Missy runs into my room, holding out her phone.

“Matty, you and Anna broke up? We didn’t even get to meet her!”

I spring up and grab her phone.

There’s a picture of us from the event. She’s in tears, andI’m standing near her, looking away, my expression hard and completely unfeeling.

The headline is, “The Crusader’s Final Play.”

I scan the words, my heart stopping dead when I see it.

Missy obviously didn’t read the article before she brought her phone in here.

“First-string kicker,Matt Harrison, reportedly ended his relationship with actress Anna Taylor after his first preseason win against the Carolina Raptors on Sunday. Neither could be reached for comment, but speculation is that it has something to do with the brewing bromance between him and Crusader owner, Zak Kacey. After Kacey was rushed to the hospital after a car accident that night, Harrison made a beeline for his bedside with Taylor in tow.”

Brett’s textfinally makes sense.

And it can only mean one thing.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumble, handing Missy her phone back. “I gotta make a call.”

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