The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Inside, Christian pointed to the couch. “Mind if I sit there and prop my foot on the table? I need to elevate it to reduce the swelling so Doc doesn’t have a heart attack on me.” He stopped and put his hands up. “Wait, will that freak you out because you’re a germaphobe?”

“I’m not a germaphobe. Why would you say that?”

“You held your breath when someone sneezed yesterday.”

“Oh, that. I just don’t like sneezing. Did you know pathogens can fly from the human body at almost a hundred miles an hour and travel up to twenty-seven feet?”

“That’s a great little factoid. Do you spring those on people at parties? No wonder you need people training.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Put your foot up, wiseass.”

Christian chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re tough. Especially with those crooked spectacles.”

“Oh my God. Again?” I took my glasses off, bent one side a bit, and put them back on. “Better?”

Christian smiled and lifted his foot up on the table. “Nah. I was only screwing with you before. But now you really made them crooked.”

“You are such a child.” I fixed my glasses a second time, then grabbed a notebook and pen, along with my trusty algorithm binder, and sat down across from him.

“So what do you want to start with?” he asked. “The players or the corporate crew?”

I was about to say whatever he preferred when I noticed the stack of magazines on the coffee table from earlier today. It reminded me of what Beau had said—how I was so much like my father. “You knew John pretty well, didn’t you?”

“Barrett? Your father?”

I nodded.

“I think so.”

“What was he…like?”

Christian looked back and forth between my eyes. “He was a great guy. I’m not sure if that’s what you want to hear, considering how he handled things with you. But it’s the truth.” He shrugged. “At least from what I knew of him.”

I said nothing for a long time. “If you had to pick one word to describe him, what would it be?”

“The first thing that comes to my mind is honorable. Which doesn’t seem right to say to you. But the man I knew was a man of his word. There’s a lot of posturing and gambling in sports. Owners and coaches want to put together the best team possible, and that often means stepping on someone to get where you want to be. Everyone is always searching for the next best player. You can be the king one year and traded for a new royal the next. You’re only as good as your last game. There’s not too much loyalty. But when my first contract was up for renewal, and John put his hand on my shoulder and told me not to worry about it, I didn’t.”

I shook my head. “I guess I’m having trouble reconciling the man people around here talk about and the man who would let a child be passed around to different homes after the death of the only parent she ever knew.”

Christian frowned. “I don’t blame you. I am also.”

“Miller thinks I need to stop holding a dead man accountable, or I’ll never move on. But for me, it’s less about forgiveness and more about understanding why he did what he did. I’m the type of person who can’t leave a puzzle three quarters of the way done.”

Christian nodded. “I get it. I think sometimes we feel unsettled because we’re meant to know more.”

“Exactly. Why can’t Miller understand my logic like that?”

“I take it you two have been friends a long time?”

“Since he walked up to me the second day of class in ninth grade and told me never to wear orange again.”

“Why didn’t he want you to wear orange?”

I pointed to my head. “It looks terrible with my auburn hair.”

“He just walked up unsolicited and told you that?”

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t mind?”

“I did at the moment. I told him to go screw himself. But then when I went home and looked in the mirror, I realized he was right. I wore green to school the next day. Miller told me the color was intoxicating on me and handed me half of the brownie he was eating. We’ve been inseparable since. He has boundary issues, but he’s the best friend a girl could ask for.”

My cell phone started to ring from my desk on the other side of the room, so I excused myself to check whether it was anything important. Finding Wyatt’s name flashing, I smiled. “I need to answer this. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Take your time.”

I swiped and brought the phone to my ear. “What’s going on, Trouble?”

“I’m calling to remind you about Wednesday night.”

“Do I ever forget your games?”

“You missed half of the last one.”

“Yes, but that’s not because I forgot. I got on the wrong second bus. There’s a difference.”

“Is Miller driving you?”

“No. Miller wants to come, but he has a big project at work, and they can’t start on it until the rest of the office is gone for the day.”

“So you’re going to take the buses again? That’s gonna take like an hour and a half with all the stops and transferring.”

“It’s okay. I’ll have my laptop to keep me busy.”