Page 70 of Biggest Player
“What about you? No kids of your own. Any nieces or nephews?”
“No—I have a brother, but we’re not close.” He takes a sip of beer. “He used to play football, too, but after his freshman year at state, he got cut from the team.”
“Is that why you’re not close?”
Dex nods, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “I think at first, he tried being happy for me? Like when I was drafted. But my parents made it hard, playing the comparison game, and now none of us talk.”
I have so many questions, but I’m filling in the gaps with my imagination, not wanting to be rude.
“I’m sorry. That stinks.”
“Yeah. It hits hardest during the holidays, but now I have my friends and shit. If we don’t play during the holidays, I usually go with Landonto his parents’ in Ohio, but now that he’s living with his girlfriend in Green Bay, I might do that this year.”
“Already thinking of Christmas?” It’s difficult to imagine this big tough dude decking his halls full of decorations.
“You know it.” He winks. “I start counting down the days until December twenty-fifth in October.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say “You know who else shares the love of decorations during the holiday? Kids. You should have one or two.”
I bet he would make a great dad, although, based on what he’s told me about his family, there is some trauma there that could perhaps be preventing him from going that route in his personal life. It’s not my place to tell him that just because he has issues with his own parents and brother, he would not have the same issues in his own household.
“Can I ask you a question that might be too personal?”
Slowly, he nods. “Sure.”
“Do you want to be married, or do you just want to date someone?”
“I want to be married.”
“But you don’t want kids?”
“Someday maybe.”
This conversation is feeling a tad too deep, and we’re trying to have fun, not dive into the deep end—as much as I’d love to pry. I wouldn’t call myself nosy, but I do love learning about people. I’ve never met a professional athlete, and they seem like a breed of their own.
Dex certainly fits the stereotype.
Single. Ready to mingle. Not ready to commit but might want to commit. Can’t make up his mind. Lives alone.
“Any pets?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t even keep a plant alive.”
“What pet would you get if you had to choose?”
“I don’t know. A pug? Or one of those French bulldog things.”
“So. Something with a mashed-up face?”
He chuckles. “I’d get something with a face only a mother could love.”
“Yeah, those are pretty darn cute.” I hesitate to bring up my daughter, but “Wyatt has always wanted a dog. She wrote me a letter once, outlining all the reasons why she would make a good dog mom.” I smile at the thought, the letter still tucked away in my dresser drawer; the same drawer where I keep letters to the elf and tooth fairy. “I don’t doubt that she would take care of one.”
“Why not get her a dog then?”
“She’s at school most of the day, and I have to work too. And I have a tiny yard.” I fumble to explain.
“So? Get a tiny dog.”
