“I’m safe. We’re safe.”
He nods. “Check next time. The SUV is locked, and the car seat base is installed in the back middle seat for safety. I took Coral’s out.”
“You have two for Coral?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, that way, no matter where I am, if I need to take her, I’m ready to go.”
“You’re killing it at this grandpa gig, Warner,” I tease.
He smiles. It makes him look younger, and once again, my thoughts run to places they should never run. “I’m trying. She makes it easy.” He opens his arms wide, and I don’t hesitate to step into them. “Lock up and call me if you need me.”
“Yes, sir,” I tease.
He pulls back, his gaze heated. He swallows hard. “Goodnight, Mandy,” he says, already stepping back onto the porch.
“Goodnight. Thank you,” I call after him. He waves his hand in the air, climbs into the passenger seat of Sloane’s SUV, with Baker behind the wheel, and then they’re gone.
Closing the door, I lean my back against it. It has to be exhaustion. Today’s been a weird day, and these thoughts about my best friend’s dad are wrong. Tomorrow they’ll be gone. It was just the day.
I keep repeating that excuse in my head until I drift off to sleep.
Nine
Will
* * *
The stadium is buzzing. Draft week is officially here, and even though it doesn’t start until later in the week, there are people milling around everywhere. Our team has gone over our options to the point of exhaustion.
Every name on the board has been circled, erased, and circled again. Pros, cons, injury reports, interviews, late-night calls with scouts, we’ve dissected it all. There’s a whiteboard in the conference room, also referred to as the war room, that looks like it’s been through battle itself, layers of marker ink bleeding into one another, arrows pointing in every direction like some kind of conspiracy map. If you stare at it too long, it starts to feel like the future of the franchise is hanging by a few dry-erase smudges.
My phone rings. I see McIntosh Garage displayed, so I quietly step out of the room to take the call. “Hello.”
“Is this Will?” a guy asks.
“This is Will.”
“Will, this is Gary from McIntosh Garage. I was able to take a look at the Highlander you had brought in over the weekend, or your son-in-law did. Either way, I took a look, and it’s the alternator. We can have it fixed and back on the road for you today.”
“Thank you, Gary. Do you have time to give it a thorough look-over? Brakes, tires, that kind of thing, while you have it?”
“Sure, we can do that. Do you want a call after?”
“Nah, just take care of it, and I’ll be handling the bill, no matter what anyone else tries to tell you.”
Gary chuckles. “Sounds good. I’ll have the guys check it over, and we’ll start the repair, and any others needed. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“That sounds like a plan. Thank you, Gary.” I end the call and pull up Amanda’s contact. I know she’s at work, so I hesitate between calling and texting, but a phone call wins out.
“Good morning,” she answers, the sound of her voice soothing in a way I didn’t expect.
“Mandy,” I rasp, using my nickname for her again. “I heard back from the garage. It’s your alternator. It’s a simple fix, and they’ll have you back on the road tonight.” I don’t tell her about the extra look I’m having them do. It’s not lying; it’s keeping a secret, a safe one. A secret where no one gets hurt. No, this secret protects Amanda and Mia, so that’s a good one in my book.
“That’s a relief. I’ll call them to give them my credit card. I’ll see if Bellamy can go with me to get it, then drop your SUV off with you. Thank you again, Will, for everything,” she says, her voice growing soft.
“I took care of it.”
“What?” she asks, as if she didn’t understand what I just said, when we both know she heard me just fine.