Fourth & Inches by Laura Chapman

Author:Laura Chapman [Chapman, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laura Chapman
Published: 2019-12-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4: Game Time

“You guys didn’t say anything,” J.J. says a few minutes later as I’m sitting on a bench sipping a can of ginger ale he’d found in a vending machine.

We’re within a couple of feet of the boys and Booker, who is dutifully keeping our place in line. By now, my coat has been removed and my stomach is more settled. More importantly, most of the people have stopped staring at me, and no one seems to have noticed national football celebrity Booker Swift or local football celebrity J.J. Sanchez are in their midst.

Thank goodness for small favors, I guess.

“I just found out today.”

I take another sip then set the cup aside.

“Brook must be pretty stoked,” J.J. says.

“He doesn’t know.”

J.J.’s eyes widen, and before his imagination can run away with itself, I hold up a hand.

“He doesn’t know, because I haven’t seen him yet. I’m going to tell him tonight.”

J.J. nods and from his spot a few feet away, Booker gives me a little salute to say he’ll keep it quiet too. J.J. looks like he wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut. That must be a first. I’ve never known him to keep a thought unspoken. Which isn’t a very nice thought to be having about the man who just watched me hurl into a trash can and helped me recover from it.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose, grateful when it doesn’t end in another wave of nausea.

A phone buzzes and my eyes pop open. Gripping onto the ginger ale, I reach for my pure only to remember I’ve left it in the stroller.

J.J. holds up the phone in his hands. “It’s mine.” He glances down at the screen and frowns, muttering an expletive.”

My own brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Looks like my dad’s plane will be landing shortly.”

“Your dad is coming?”

He nods. “It’s the first time he’s been here since . . .”

Since J.J. spiraled out of control one too many times and lost his job. J.J.’s father—better known to football fans as Bertrum Abernathy “The Abs” Sanchez—had come out to try and bring him back home to San Diego. They’d exchanged some less-than-familial words and hadn’t seen each other since.

If his father is coming here, it means . . . well, I’m not entirely sure what it means. But it’s significant all the same.

“You should probably head to the airport,” I say, not wanting to create any more tension between the men by a late arrival. “I have things covered here.”

“I could stay until Brook gets here.”

I cover his hand with mine and give it a squeeze. “I’m sure Brook will be here any minute. Besides, you’ve done more than enough. Thank you.”

J.J. still doesn’t look convinced, and—to be totally honest—I’m not entirely convinced either. That Brook will be here soon or that I have any of this covered. But J.J. deserves a reconciliation with his father. They’ve waited years for this. There’s no sense in delaying it any longer.

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