The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

“No shit?”

“Brad Pitt has it too. Though I think his is congenital.” Bella laughed. “I don’t even know why I just told you any of that. I’ve only ever told three people about my condition. I can hide it pretty well by memorizing non-facial cues about a person, such as their walk, or voice, or the way they dress. Even a necklace a person wears or their build can help me identify them better than a face.”

“You told me because you didn’t want my ego to be bruised.”

“I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t a fan. Because I am. I’ve studied your career.”

I rubbed my lip with my thumb. “You’ve studied me, huh?”

She straightened. “Sixty-seven-point-four completion rate last year. Five-thousand-two-hundred-and-seventy-four yards. Forty-four touchdowns and eight interceptions. The season before that, sixty-one-point-eight completion rate, four-thousand-six-hundred-and-eleven yards, forty touchdowns, and twelve interceptions. The year before that, sixty-four-point-two completion rate, four-thousand-nine-hundred-and-six yards, forty-three touchdowns, and twelve interceptions. You went to Notre Dame for college, where you led the Fighting Irish to two league championships. You have a twin brother—identical not fraternal—who is also a quarterback. He was on injured reserve this week, the same as you, though he’s due to come back Sunday, and you will most likely be out for another few weeks. And you have a second brother, who played for Michigan State but didn’t make it to the NFL. I believe that brother is a cop in New Jersey.”

“Who was my pee-wee team’s football coach?”

Her face fell. “I don’t know. But I’m hoping that’s not relevant to prove my point, that I know who you are as a player, even if I didn’t recognize your face.”

I shook my pointer at her. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You can’t figure out everything through facts and figures. You’re not building algorithms anymore.”

She tilted her head. “Sounds like you’ve done your homework, too. You know what I previously did for a living…”

My phone alarm buzzed. I slipped it from my pocket and turned it off. “I gotta run. Practice starts in ten minutes. I’m not allowed on the field while I’m injured, but I can sure as hell coach the guy keeping my spot warm from the sidelines. Maybe we can talk about the all-girls’ youth team another time?”

Bella smiled. “Sure. And thank you again for being so understanding about the other day.”

I nodded and walked toward the door. “By the way, just to be clear, is it sexual harassment when two people work together and one of them asks the other out?”

“I think if it’s done in a manner so that the other party feels comfortable saying no, if they’re not interested, it wouldn’t be considered harassment.”

I let my eyes do a quick sweep over Bella as she watched. “Good to know. I hope I see you around, Bella.”





CHAPTER 3




* * *



BELLA



“Why are you sitting over here?”

The following week, I attended my first official home game as the team’s owner. Right before halftime, I’d been sitting in the owner’s box with friends when the jumbotron zoomed in on a man in the visiting team’s bleacher seats. My grandfather. I knew he had season tickets right behind the home team bench, so I went down to check on him.

My brows furrowed when I saw his shirt. “And what in heaven’s name are you wearing?” I bent for a closer look.

“Lost a damn bet with Knox.”

Oh my God, is that Christian’s face? “What bet did you lose?”

“He beat me at checkers, so I have to sit here with all this dumb shit on.”

“Why were you playing checkers with Christian?”

“Because he’s a sore loser. I won last time, so he had to have a rematch.”

I shook my head. “But why were you playing with him at all?”

My grandfather shrugged. “You’ve seen the outdoor park in my complex…”

“Yes? What about it?”

“They have those concrete tables with checkerboards painted on the top.”

“Okay…”

“We sometimes stop there when we go out for a walk.”

I was still confused. “Christian comes to see you?”

“Once or twice a month. He used to come to my team’s practices, but since I retired, he comes to the house instead.”

“I didn’t realize you two were friendly.”

“Ever since I coached his pee-wee football team—too many years ago for me to count. I followed his career through the years after that, made your father come down and watch a few of his high school games. That’s how he became interested in Knox for the Bruins.”

Pee-wee football. And here I’d thought Christian was poking fun at me for being a stats geek and not knowing people so well. I had no idea my grandfather had been his coach.

“Well, the jumbotron found you sitting on the visitor side, and the announcers are having a field day with it. Why don’t you come up to the owner’s box for the rest of the game?”

He shook his head. “No can do. I’m no deadbeat. A bet’s a bet.”