Page 26 of Presley's Christmas Catch
I put the ring back in the bottom of the box, which is probably not a safe place for it, but I don’t want to put it anywhere else for now. It’s been fine for almost a year in there.
I rub at my forehead. I need to talk to someone. Looking at the rest of the stuff Aunt Shannon left me has been a roller coaster of emotions. I shake out my hands. Brock has enough on his mind. I’ll tell him about the signed copy later. Hopefully as a celebration and not to cheer him up. I put the box from Aunt Shannon back in my closet, since leaving it out next to my bed feels irresponsible now, and then grab my keys and the signed TOK book and head to my parents’ house.
“Wow.”Mom holds the book and nods in a way I’m sure she means to look impressed. She knows how important TOK is to me, but she never liked the books. (She read a couple at my urging.)
I snatch it from her. I don’t mean to be like this, but my nerves are on edge, understandably, and I feel like I’m going to explode with the information that I’m pretty sure Aunt Shannon stole the Christmas ring. But I can’t. I don’t know what Mom would say if I told her, and maybe I’m worried she’ll tell me to turn it in. Or insist on turning it in herself. I can’t do that to Aunt Shannon. Not yet. Mrs. Westcott was literally here earlier trying to search their house. What if she comes back?
Maybe Mom can ask her to sweep it under the rug, so to say, as a favor if we give it back.
Maybe Mrs. Westcott will laugh in Mom’s face and have us both arrested for being in possession of stolen property. I glance at the front window, where Mom showed me how she was marching up and down the street, insisting she could search people’s houses. There’s no way she’d let this go.
I keep my focus on the book. “Mom. This is a really big deal.” I hold the book to my chest.
“I know, sweetie.”
“There are like maybe twenty-five signed copiesin the world.” I plop down into a chair across from where she sits in their family room, wishing I could talk to her about the ring and not just the book. My frustration is coming out in my annoyance about her reaction to the book.
Dad is appropriately engrossed in book four of TOK, which I loaned to him, with my knowledge this time. It’s taking him forever, so I’m glad he’s not actually officially in my TOK book club with Brock.
“Right.” Mom nods again solemnly.
“How did Aunt Shannon even get this? And why didn’t shetell me? Did she say anything to you?” I fire off questions too fast for Mom to answer. Maybe she’ll somehow know I need answers about the ring, too, since I have all the same questions about it.
“She never said anything to me.” Mom shrugs.
So I spin on Dad. “What are they saying about Brock? Have you heard anything?” I pace across the kitchen toward the family room. Finding the ring is a distraction from obsessing over Brock’s career status, all right, just not the kind that’s making me feel better.
Mom answers before Dad can. “Why don’t you ask Brock? I’m sure he’d be happy to update you.”
“It’s not like that with us. We’re friends.”
“Sweetie. No one spends that much time talking to someone they’re just friends with.”
“I spend that much time talking to you,” I point out. She rolls her eyes.
Dad lowers his reading glasses and looks over at me. “Jeff says the Cobras are definitely going to be interested, and he thinks the Rays will make an offer,” he relays, speaking of a buddy of his who used to scout for the Rays.
My eyes widen. “The Rays?” That makes sense. One of the offensive linemen got hurt in a pre-season game. I can’t remember if he played left-tackle, the same position as Brock. But even so, the Rays aren’t strong there anyway, and in the last couple years, the coach has been building what he’s calling his dream team. He wants a group of guys who aren’t just all-stars. He wants guys who are good players who play well together as a team. The complete package. Brock would fit right into that, plus, thanks to his friendship with Lincoln, he’s already got a rapport with guys on the offense. The Rays GM and coach would know that.
“Jeff’s sure there’s going to be a good offer?” I ask.
Dad’s scoffs. “Everyone is sure, Pres. The Devils are stupid to let him go over this. Coach Bell is too prideful. Doesn’t like thateveryone’s agreeing with Brock, so he has to let him go instead of take a good, hard look at his team and the rumors that are piling up.”
“Then why are all the analysts saying how bad this is for Brock and talking about how nobody wants to deal with his temper?” I squeeze my hands together. I definitely trust my dad more than any of the talking heads on the sports networks, but everything in me feels like it’s bouncing around with energy.
“Clicks and views, Pres.”
I let out a long breath. “Okay.”
“You need to tell Brock,” Mom says.
I turn and blink at her. “Tell him what? That Jeff thinks the Rays are going to make an offer? That’s not going to help anything. Besides, I’m sure he knows already.”
“No. Tell him about your feelings. I’ve never seen you so excited about someone, and you obviously care about him. Why waste time?”
“I don’t know how he feels about me.” I look over at Dad, like he might have something to contribute, but he’s already raised his book back up.
“Obviously he feels the same,” Mom says. “He texted you at eleven o’clock at night to come and see you on Thanksgiving.” She says this like it’s all the evidence I need.
