Page 48 of Sipping Seduction
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Evidently, Ruby didn’t either, because she stared up at her dad with a frown on her face that might have made anyone else wither away.
“Well, it’s true.” Mr. Bishop shrugged like he expected us to agree with him.
“Last time I checked, football was a team sport,” I said, more aware than ever of how a comment here and there had piled up to make Evan feel lesser than he was. “You can’t blame one person for the outcome of an entire season.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” While I’d been trying to decide how to shut down Evan’s dad without creating a huge rift, Evan had returned. He stood behind his dad, looking so proud of himself. I wanted to stand up and kiss him right then and there.
“Dad was just being Dad,” Ruby said. She slid off of her seat so Evan could reclaim his spot. “You looked good out there.”
“Thanks.” Evan glanced from me to his dad and back again. “Everything okay here?”
“Sure is.” I smiled and patted the empty spot on the metal bleacher next to me.
“Maybe if the coach hadn’t coddled those boys.” Mr. Bishop wouldn’t drop it.
“What boys?” Evan asked.
I got up and reached for his hand. “I’m craving some popcorn. Want to come with me to the concession stand?”
“Sure. As soon as my dad tells me who he’s talking about.” He slid his arm around my shoulder and tugged me into his side. He’d looked happy when he came off the field. Now the tension in his body made his shoulders bunch. His teeth clenched, and a tiny muscle along his jaw ticked.
“Hey, Dad. I need to talk to you and Mom about something.” Ruby linked her arm with her dad’s, trying to gently redirect him back to his seat.
“Did you hear that?” I rubbed a hand over my stomach and gave Evan a smile. “If I don’t get something in my belly soon, you’re going to have to deal with a very hangry girlfriend.”
Evan shook his head. “Yeah, let’s go. See you around, Dad.”
I caught the quick apology in Ruby’s eyes as she led their dad away. Even Evan’s sister could recognize the way their dad’s offhand remarks cut him into pieces.
“I’m sorry about that.” We’d had to shift from arm-in-arm to holding hands as we made our way down the steps of the bleachers.
“Why should you be sorry? You’re the only reason I’m still smiling, Frannigan.”
I glanced back to see if he was joking. His lips split into a wide, overexaggerated grin.
“I guess I never realized how deep your dad’s comments could cut. I’m sorry he’s so focused on the negative and can’t see all the amazing things you do.” Thanks to my talented therapist, who I’d visited weekly while my mom was dying, I’d learned a lot about how the experiences of our past could shape the person we’d become. I was still figuring out my own issues, but it was easier to recognize the cycle in other people’s lives.
Evan tucked his thumb in his belt loop and shrugged off my concern. “Yeah, I’m used to it.”
He might downplay how much his dad’s comments hurt him, but knowing him, slights like that cut him to the core. “Well, I think you looked incredible out there. After ten years, you’re still the best-looking guy on the team.”
My effort at cheering him up earned me a deep chuckle. “You might need to get your eyes checked. Did you see Trowman out there? He was big in high school and he’s even bigger now. Says he’s been doing CrossFit five days a week. I think I might try it.”
I wasn’t about to question him, not after the way his dad had just dumped a steaming pile of poop on his accomplishment. But a part of me wondered if his leg could handle that kind of workout. I didn’t know much about CrossFit except for the maniacs I saw flipping huge truck tires around when I drove past the gym on the outskirts of town.
“What do you think? Want to do it with me?” His teasing mood had returned. It never took Evan very long to shake off his setbacks and keep moving forward.
“Can you imagine this body trying to do a dead lift?”
A spark of heat flashed through his eyes. “I can imagine that body doing all kinds of things.”
“Is that so?” I tried to play off his comment, but the idea of him imagining the types of things I was now imagining made me forget all about popcorn and wish we were headed home instead.
We reached the concession stand and stepped into the long line. At the slow pace it was moving, we’d probably miss most of the third quarter waiting for popcorn. Popcorn I didn’t even want.
“I think I’ve got popcorn at home.” Evan kept his eyes straight ahead like he was scanning the hand-printed menu taped above the concession window. “It’s the pop on the stove kind. Probably a lot healthier than the crap they’re serving here.”
“I bet you’ve got real butter too, not the butter-flavored oil stuff they drizzle on top.” It wasn’t difficult to figure out where this conversation was headed, and I was all for it.
