Page 27 of Make Your Shot
She lets out a sigh in resignation. “Okay, fine.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CALEB
“Who taught your daughter to give people the middle finger?”
I lift my head from looking down at my plate and pull my fork from my mouth. I lock eyes with Mia through my phone screen, tilting my head to the side as I chew a piece of fish. “I’m sorry, what?”
Mia and I hopped on FaceTime thirty minutes ago so I could talk to Tella before she went to bed...and well, that was at least fifteen minutes prior to this very moment. I like to check in with the two of them while I’m on the road and it’s been three days since I left. I didn’t plan on staying on the phone with Mia, but we just fell into a comfortable conversation that didn’t feel right to end so abruptly.
“I meant to tell you before you left, but I forgot to,” Mia explains as she crawls into the bed in my guest room. “Your last home game—Tella was giving the middle finger to players on the other team.”
I snort, half choking on a mouthful of food before Iswallow it down. Laughter spills from my lips and I catch a questioning look from some of the other guys as they sit down with their plates. I know it’s an unusual sight for them to see—me sitting down to eat with my phone propped in front of me and my headphones on.
“Did you teach her that?” Mia questions me, cocking a perfectly arched brow. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell you, so you have to promise me that you won’t say anything.”
“Seems like a lot of secrets,” I muse aloud, a playful note in my tone. “And no, it wasn’t me who taught her. It was Carson.”
Mia’s face softens and she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head at me. “Honestly, I’m not so sure I’m that surprised to hear that. It seems like something he would do.”
I nod, chewing another bite of food before swallowing it. I drop my fork onto my empty plate, running a hand through my hair as I let my eyes roam over Mia’s features. “It was before he knew about Matteo and he was the cool uncle. He’s definitely changed, now that he’s a parent.”
“I would hope so,” she says, her voice quiet. “So, for the record, I should be telling Tella that she shouldn’t be giving them the middle finger, right?”
I bite on the inside of my cheek. “I mean, as her father, yes, absolutely. As a competitive professional athlete,” I pause and shrug, a sheepish grin lifting my lips. “She’s not hurting anyone or anything.”
Mia’s eyes widen at me. “Caleb!”
“What?” I feign innocence. “It’s true. She’s not doinganythingthatbad.” I give her a look before my expression softens and I give in. “Okay, yes, please stop her from doing that. I know she already has a bit of an attitude and I don’t want her to be that kid.”
Mia gives me a look of satisfaction as she dips her chin. “Thank you.”
I stare at her for a moment. She drops her gaze from me. She’s staring off to the side, looking for something as a frown tugs her lips downward. “What’s wrong?”
“I forgot my water downstairs,” she says as she climbs out of bed. “I meant to grab it when I came up here but it must have slipped my mind.”
She exits the bedroom, slipping into the hall and heading downstairs. She’s quiet as she makes her way into the kitchen and as she flicks on the overhead light, it illuminates her face, her focus is past me.
“Why can’t I remember where I put it?”
“Try and retrace your steps, maybe?” I suggest, adjusting in my chair as Carson, Lincoln, and Nash come into the room. I came to eat a little earlier than them tonight. I catch Carson’s gaze from across the room as he raises an eyebrow. “Hold on a second.”
I grab my phone, holding it up to show him as I point at it and rise to my feet. I’m not paying attention to what Mia is doing as I exit the dining room and step out into the hallway, ducking into a corner where no one else is. There’s a small bench and as I’m sitting down, I hear Mia’s voice come through the speakers again.
“Caleb, what is all this?”
I’m silent for a moment, looking back at the screento find her standing in the pantry. A warmth blossoms in my chest and my stomach does a flip. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I just don’t know how it took her this long to notice. “You left a bag of gluten free flour there.” I pause, my throat bobbing as I swallow roughly. “T told me that gluten makes you sick.”
Her eyes flash back to mine. “Your pantry is full of gluten free snacks.”
I suck in a breath. “I told you that all food and stuff would be provided for you. You couldn’t eat the snacks I had in the house, so now you can.”
Her eyes start to get glassy with tears as they slowly search mine. “This is too much.”
“It’s really nothing.” I pause, letting out another shallow breath. I’m not sure why there’s anxiety lingering in the pit of my stomach, but I immediately shove it away. “If there are certain ones you would prefer, please let me know. Honestly, from all I’ve read about gluten, I think T and I could benefit from not eating it too.”
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she tells me, her voice soft, dropping even lower. “I don’t mind bringing my own snacks. Honestly, I’m used to it.”
