Page 53 of Blitz
Trick was tucked under my arm on the sofa, a small fire was burning in the fireplace, and a light snow was falling. Winter was paying us all kinds of attention of late. I had to wonder if that meant we’d have a bad one.
“I think your sister has stolen my dog’s heart,” I said as the sad little cocker sat down by my foot and whimpered. “Sorry, girl, but she closed the door for privacy. You’ll have to make do with us.”
I patted the special blankie she slept on. With a great sigh she leapt up to begrudgingly sleep at my side.
“My sister is pretty cool,” Trick said as a log snapped in the hearth.
“She is, and smart as a whip. I’m glad you two found each other. Siblings can be really annoying, but they’re also always there if you need them.”
I snugged him closer, sighing much like my dog but for a wholly different reason. I was not put out at all. I was in my frigging element. I was home, my belly was full, and I had a man I adored tucked into my side. Snow was falling outside, the fire was crackling, and all was right with the world, at least for this small moment in time.
“I’m seeing that. Your brothers are wild but funny.”
I chuckled. “You should have been in that house when we were all living there. It was total chaos. Sports equipment everywhere, toys scattered over the yard, four bikes tossed in the driveway. Boys coming and going, mud, dirt, barking dogs. All packed into that small rowhouse. I often wonder now how my folks didn’t go insane amid all that bedlam, but they loved it. Mom says that now that it’s only the baby left at home, and he’s out most of the time, the house is too quiet.”
“Your stepmother is amazing. And your father too. I’ve never… well, you know, never had a day like that. Shame you lost all your cookies on the football game.” He pecked my cheek.
I heaved a sad breath. “Yeah, I should never have bet on New York. Cost me that whole box of sand tarts.”
He patted my full belly. “Looks like you can skip a few cookies. You wouldn’t have been able to chase down those speedy running backs on Sunday if you’d have brought them home.”
“Are you insinuating I’m too old and fat to catch a young, fast athlete?” I bristled playfully. He was probably right. A box of Mom’s sand tarts would have sunk me. I’d be running extra miles tomorrow as it was to burn off the stuffing and taters I’d eaten today.
“Well, if the pudge fits,” he tossed out, then quick as a flash leapt to his feet and sprinted up the stairs.
“Oh, fuck me,” I groaned, heaved my ass up, and thundered up the stairs after him. He was in my bedroom when I found him, easing his shirt over his shoulders all come hither.
“You think you have enough energy to let me suck your brains out through your cock, or do you want to take your Geritol, then watch someMatlock?”
Smart ass. I fucking loved that about him. Well, that and a few hundred other things.
“I think I can handle what you can dish out, whippersnapper.”
He tossed his shirt to the bed, then gave the zipper on his pants a sharp tug down. “We’ll see, Gramps.”
I closed the door gently while smiling like a fool.
We’d see who could handle who.
Dear Lord, please don’t let me peter out first. Amen. Old but still feisty Tom.
NINETEEN
Trick
I’d toldmy lawyers I’d let them handle everything and stay away from Pastor Cole, but I lied.
Tom didn’t say much on the drive—just kept one hand on the wheel and the other close enough to touch me when my knee bounced too hard or I cracked my knuckles too loudly. My stomach rolled the closer we got; a low thrum of nausea lodged beneath my ribs. I kept flashing back to that final sermon—his voice booming as he preached about sin and discipline while I stood backstage, shaking, sixteen and terrified. My palms were damp, my jaw clenched so tight I could hear my teeth grinding.
Rebecca rode in the back, phone in one hand, thumb flying over the screen as she curated some musical journey she called “Holy Shit Showdown.” Primarily indie rock, with a dash of angry country for spice. She was trying to distract me. It almost worked. I hadn’t wanted her to come. I hadn’t wanted Tom here either, but when I announced I was doing this, they’d shadowed me as if I might steal away in the middle of the night.
Atlanta blurred past the window. All the polished glass and streets I remembered from before, and when I saw a sign for the Phantoms arena, it felt surreal. It had only been four, maybe fivemonths, since I’d left, but I’d changed, and I expected the city I’d left behind to have become something different.
“I owe them an apology,” I murmured.
“Who?” Tom asked, and I sighed.
“My old team. I self-destructed because it was the only way I knew how, and shit, all I wanted to do was leave Georgia, and I made myself so unlikeable, so damaged…”
