Not You Again (The NOT Series Book 1) by Terri Osburn

Author:Terri Osburn [Osburn, Terri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macie Rae Publishing
Published: 2021-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

“Hey, pumpkin. What took you so long?” Dad asked as I handed over the pretzels. He set them on the small table beside his recliner, where he hovered on the edge, ready to leap to his feet either in celebration or disgust at any moment. “You’ve missed half the game.”

“Mom made me some pierogi,” I explained, leaving out how my evening started and the tears shed upstairs. “What’s the score?”

“We’re tied at one. Sid is getting slammed from every direction, and the refs aren’t calling shit.”

“So a typical playoff game,” I muttered, digging into my meal.

The man cave hadn’t changed much. The same banners—for the Steelers, Pirates, and Penguins—covered the walls. There was even one for the professional lacrosse team that had represented the city back in the early nineties.

Local colleges were represented, of course. Pitt. Duquesne. And the slightly farther away but equally supported Penn State. The neon Iron City sign Mom bought him for Christmas had been mounted over the bar in the back corner since I was last here. It shared pride of place with the Jerome Bettis signed and framed football jersey that was already there.

In the early days, the basement had truly felt like a cave, since the previous homeowners had installed dark wood paneling when they’d turned the space into a gaming room. Once Dad painted the walls yellow and cleaned up the two windows at the top of the wall where the flat screen now hung, the place had actually become bright and cheerful.

Dad cut a glance my way. “How are things with you? The job keeping you too busy to come see your old man?”

In the past, I’d made a point to visit every Sunday, but lately I was either running an event or recovering from handling several back-to-back.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, sweetie. That’s how it goes sometimes.”

“But I should make time to see you and Mom.”

“Eh,” he grunted. “You’re young. You don’t need to be hanging out with us old people.”

They weren’t that old. “Dad, you’re only fifty-five. You still play on a softball team, run three miles every morning, and could dance circles around most twenty-year-olds.”

The siren sounded from the television and he slammed a hand down on the side table, crushing the poor pretzels. “Dammit, where’s the defense?”

We watched the replay together and I said, “They were blocking his view of the puck, that’s where they were.”

“Shit,” Dad murmured. “Get it back, boys. Get it back.” The game cut to a commercial and he sat back in his chair. “How are you really doing?”

Swallowing half a pierogi, I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“You know it’s okay if you aren’t.”

Did I have poor pitiful me written across my forehead?

“But I am fine.” Those were the words I should have tattooed on my forehead.

“I’m just saying, it’s like that show your mom got me to watch a few months ago. The one that said it’s okay to not be okay.”

I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth. “You watched a Korean drama?”

He looked as if I’d caught him stealing a cookie.

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