squeeze. “I love you, kiddo.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.”
And once again, all is right with the world.
At least for today, anyway.
3
Kingston
“Bro, I seriously need a beer,” Spencer grumbles in my ear when I answer the phone.
It’s after seven and I’m sitting at home on my ass, planning to relax for the weekend, knowing Monday’s going to be hell.
“I could go for a beer,” I tell him. “Want to meet me at the Penalty Box, or would you rather stop by here?” It doesn’t really matter to me, although I wasn’t planning to go out again tonight if I didn’t have to.
“I’ll swing by there. Don’t want any prying ears for the shit I need to talk to you about.”
That piques my interest. “Got it. See you in a few.”
Twenty minutes after I hang up with Spencer, he’s walking into my house and he doesn’t even bother to knock. He probably drops by at least once a week, which means he’s as comfortable here as I am. I’m used to it, so I simply grab two beers and meet him in the living room.
As I pass one over, I grin. “Tell me. Are they scratching the whole team and pulling up from the farm?” It’s my attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t seem to work on Spencer, and that’s when I realize he’s seriously worked up.
I knew he was dreading the meeting with Phoenix, but surely it wasn’t that bad. The guy looks like someone ran over his dog. Twice.
When he plants his ass on my couch, I drop to the chair across from him, crossing my ankle over my knee while I study him closely. He’s physically present, but I’m not so sure he’s accounted for. “Talk to me, man. How was the meeting with Phoenix?”
Spencer looks up and meets my gaze. He’s frowning, which isn’t a good sign. “She fucking works for the Austin Arrows.”
I frown, my beer bottle pressed to my lips, completely lost. I want to say, “Phoenix is a guy, bro,” but I don’t think that’s what Spencer’s referring to. At least I hope not. If so, we’ve got an entirely different issue here.
He clearly sees my dilemma, because he elaborates, “Amber North works for the fucking Arrows.”
And by elaborate, I mean he keeps rattling on about shit I know nothing about.
“Do I know Amber North?” Based on the way he says her name, I probably should.
“My ex.”
I take a swallow of beer, then chuckle. “You’ll have to be a little more specific. There’re quite a few of those.”
Not that I’ve kept track, but Spencer hasn’t been in a serious relationship in all the time I’ve known him. A couple of months at most, which in my head isn’t serious. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a man-whore, but he does have a penchant for the bunnies.
Spencer sighs, then leans back, clearly not amused. “I went into Coach’s office this morning, and Phoenix was there waiting for me,” he explains. “I walked in, took a seat where Coach directed me, and the next fucking thing I know, Mark Coleman walks in.”
I’m still trying to understand where the ex-girlfriend plays into this, but I’m not about to interrupt. Spencer looks like he’s choking on every damn word. I don’t want to hinder his progress.
“I hardly even noticed the guy.”
“That’s kind of hard to do considering he’s what? Six five?”
“Somethin’ like that. But seriously, I hardly see him because my attention was drawn to the redhead standing at his side. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train.” Spencer frowns as though he’s reliving that moment. “I seriously doubt she was surprised to see me, but she acted like it. When Mark introduced her, I couldn’t even acknowledge her, man. I was too stunned to move.”
“Did she suck in bed? Or was she psycho?” I’m trying to understand why this particular chick has him so worked up. “Did she roast your nuts or what?” I’m drawing a serious blank when it comes to this girl.
“Because she’s Amber North.”
Again, I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care that I’m out of the loop.
“Mark then rattles off an introduction, but I know she doesn’t need one. She already fucking knows me. Pretty damn well, considering I dated her for a grand total of four fucking years.”
I sit up, grinning. “Oh, shit, bro. She’s the chick who Dear John’d you via voice mail?”