At halftime West Fork led by two points. The team was outclassed by Snohomish—except for Trevor. He was everywhere, as strong at defense as he was at offense. His slam dunk was primitive and powerful, his outside shot a thing of beauty. Richard could only watch in awe.
Molly, he discovered, was a vocal supporter. She yelled encouragement, she moaned disappointment, she laughed, she clapped, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an earsplitting whistle that had Trevor looking up from a time-out huddle and grinning right at her.
That grin socked Richard in the chest. It was delighted, triumphant, filled with a young male’s vanity and a boy’s mischief. He hadn’t seen that grin in a long time.
“Oh,” she said finally, sagging to the creaking bleacher seat. “I don’t know if I’ll survive the game, never mind the season. Oh, Cait!” She waved at her daughter, who was bounding up the bleachers to them. “He’s amazing.”
“Did you see him, Mom?” Her face was alight. “I knew he was supposed to be good, but…wow.”
“I’ve seen him play, and I didn’t know he was that good,” Richard said. “We could end up with recruiters from every major basketball powerhouse in the nation knocking on our door.”
“Will they even see him play?” Molly asked. “He’d have been better staying in L.A. if he wanted to get noticed, wouldn’t he?”
“Probably, but I think he’ll get noticed no matter what.” He was giddy. That’s my kid.
He could tell Molly was laughing at him the rest of the game, when she wasn’t on her feet screaming her own delight. Trevor had been dominant in the first half; he ran away with the second. He stole the ball, took it down court himself, dunked, did layups, took wild outside shots. But he wasn’t all hot dog, he also played team ball. Perfect passes, so smooth they looked effortless, had West Fork defeating last year’s league champions by fourteen points.
When the final buzzer went off, Molly jumped up and down and hugged Richard. “We killed them! We killed them.”
Grinning, he lifted her in his arms and stole a kiss. “Yeah, we did.”
The whole West Fork contingent was jumping up and down. The bleachers thundered and groaned.
They went outside to wait by the bus for the players to come out of the dressing room. It was so cold, they all hunched in their parkas and breathed in dragon puffs but stayed warm from excitement. When the boys swaggered out, the applause was loud and long. Molly loosed another whistle, which had all the boys grinning this time. Richard saw Cait roll her eyes—oh, God, her mother was making a spectacle of herself—but she was smiling at the same time, and her cheeks were pink.
They got pinker when Trevor stopped to put an arm around her and murmur something in her ear. That silenced Molly and Richard both. He remembered what she’d said Thursday. No, he definitely did not want Trevor imagining himself in love with Caitlyn—the mother of his child.
Disaster that way lies.
Was Trevor smart enough to understand what he’d be giving up if he did something stupid now?
Richard almost groaned. The kid was seventeen. Of course he wasn’t. Good God, he wasn’t smart enough to use a damn condom.
Maybe, it occurred to Richard, the easing of tension between the Callahans and the Wards hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe it would have been better if they’d stayed enemies.
Maybe Molly was right, and they should do some serious thinking before they all got in over their heads.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NINE O’CLOCK ON THE NOSE, the phone rang. Molly didn’t have to look at the number on the screen to know it was Richard’s. In line with her decision to keep some distance from him, she hadn’t answered last night. Tonight, she told herself she didn’t want to cut him off entirely. Being cautious didn’t mean she couldn’t talk to him sometimes, or be friendly at games.
And she already missed him, after only one day without talking to him. Oh, I’m in such trouble.
“Hey,” he said. “Wondered if you were planning to go to the game tomorrow night.”
She glanced at the school calendar, always kept handy. Friday, November 30. Home game, West Fork vs. LS. As if she hadn’t known.
“I told you I never miss a home game.” She was smiling because it felt so good to hear his voice.