Page 10 of The Pass Protection
The room is silent as we all stare at the bombshell sitting next to us. “What?” she muses.
“Damn, I didn’t think Harris’s ego could get bigger,” I chime in. Harris chucks a Red Vine at my head, and it bounces off my cheek. “Ouch!”
Laughter fills the room as our attention is drawn to the game before us. The sun has fully set and the glow from the television illuminates the space, casting shadows across our faces. Sometime in the evening, someone puts on a classic rock station that plays through Bluetooth in the room.
Game night was the perfect idea. Except somewhere during the night, Harris lowered his guard, and now there seems to be quite the bond blooming between him and Bret. Don’t get me wrong, I’m gladhe’s done being a dick about her living here, but I don’t want them to have a spark.
A faint knock comes from the front door, and I bounce my head up to see if anyone else has heard it or if I am hearing things. My eyes find JP’s, whose eyebrows are quirked. Pausing the game, I leave the couch and go to the front door. Without looking, I flip the lock and open the metal door.
“Coach?” I greet, eyes wide. Standing before me is a very intimidating man dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, but the woman standing at his shoulder has me pausing. “Mrs. Campbell.”
She doesn’t spare me a glance as she brushes past me. Stepping aside, I watch her retreating form as Coach crosses the threshold.
“Bret Addison Campbell,” she shouts as she storms down our hallway. A faint ‘mom’ comes from the living room.
And just like that, our peaceful evening has gone up in a burst of flames.
“Mom?” I gasp, eyes widening as I scan the room.
Shit! Shit! Shit! This cannot be happening.
I knew I’d have to have this conversation with my mom, but I couldn’t imagine having this chat like this. Both my parents are at the apartment I share with three guys. As she storms in, her anger is palpable with all of us in limited clothing.
Standing from the couch, I take tentative steps as I navigate the tight space between the couch and the coffee table. Mom stands before me as I’m rounding the edge of the sofa.
I inherited my height from both of my parents. While Dad and Grant are around the same size, my mom and I are similar in height. She is about an inch shorter than me, meaning we are practically at eye level.
Shock crosses her features as she takes in my new appearance. “What have you done to yourself?”
My shoulders sag as the disappointment weighs heavily in her voice. Looking past her shoulders, I see both Crew and Dad standing in the small opening next to our dining table. Dad’s arms are folded across his chest while Crew’s are tucked in the pockets of his athletic shorts. Meanwhile, I can feel the gaze of my other two roommates watching everything unfold.
“Your beautiful hair? Tattoos? And are those nipple piercings?” she whispers the last words in disgust.
Shuffling sounds from around us as an uncomfortable mood settles in the room. “Can we please have this conversation in my room?”
Mom must realize we are far from alone because her eyes bounce over my shoulder to where JP and Tyler are sitting. “Hello, boys. I’m sorry to interrupt your”—she glances around the space—“game night, but imagine my absolute shock when I was informed that my daughter drove across the country to transfer schools and didn’t bother to tell her mother.”
“Emily, let’s take this to her room,” Dad says from behind. I give him a small smile, hoping the look in my eyes portrays my thanks. He gives me a tight nod before quirking his brow at Crew.
“It’s that one,” Crew answers, pointing to the room directly to Dad’s right as if he knew what he was asking. I guess that’s part of what makes my dad a good coach, his ability to read his players and their ability to read him.
I move to step around Mom, and that’s when she must see more tattoos on my skin. She sucks in a small breath, and I swear I hear her heart breaking. No words leave her mouth as she follows me into my room.
Crossing the room, I sit on the bed with my legs folded underneath me, and my back resting on the headboard as I pull a pillow into my lap. Dad leans against my dresser while my mom sits at the foot of the bed. Silence falls over the room, and I instantly feel like a little kid again.
“Mom—” I start before she cuts me off.
“Bret, what’s going on with you?” The anger from earlier has disappeared, and only concern laces her voice.
Inhaling deeply, I look through my lashes and find tired, kind eyes much like my own staring back at me. “I wanted to be closer to home.”
“Sweetheart,” she begins, as her shoulders relax, and she reaches for my hand. “You know we want nothing more than for you to be home near us, but this isn’t how you do those things. Can you imagine my shock when your father asked me how you were settling into the move while we were eating dinner with boosters?”
Warily, I turn my attention to my dad, who still hasn’t moved from his spot near my dresser.
“I’m sorry you were blindsided, but I was going to tell you. It’s been a busy couple of days trying to get settled.”
“I can imagine. Can you also picture my shock when I walk in and find my daughter’s appearance nearly completely changed?” She pauses, looking over my body. “Tattoos, Bret? You know how much I hate them.”
