False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,84

you.”

I stepped back so I could get a good look at him. Though he smiled, it was strained. He was probably putting on a brave face for my parents’ sake—and hell, for my sake. I wasn’t proud of how I’d fallen apart. Thank God he hadn’t seen me up close. I’d been upset that I couldn’t be with him right after it happened, but now I realized that was probably better. If I was in this for the long haul—and I was—I would need to learn how to deal. Injuries in pro sports happened all the time.

“Is it too late for you to switch to golf?” I asked meekly. Everyone laughed, and some of the tension dissipated.

Jake jerked his head up. “I’ll see you later. Call if you need anything.”

It was only after he had walked away that I realized I hadn’t introduced him to my parents.

“That was Jake,” I said apologetically.

“Jake Truitt. Yes, I know,” my dad said. I wasn’t surprised he’d recognized him. He’d always followed college football, and because of Carson and me, he was a devoted VVU fan. He turned to Carson. “That was an amazing game, with the exception of the last quarter, of course.”

“Yeah, that part sucked,” Carson said wryly. “Are you all hungry?”

“Oh no, Carson. We don’t expect you to cook for us now,” my mom said. “You need to rest.”

“I have five pounds of steak in my fridge,” Carson said. “You’d be doing me a favor if you’d come over and grill it for me, because I obviously can’t.” Grinning, he gestured to his arm.

Shit. I’d been shortsighted, only thinking about how his injury would affect football, but it was going to upset all aspects of his life. Already, I could see the battles ahead of me. While Carson was fine with accepting my help on assignments, he wasn’t keen on showing what he perceived to be weaknesses. Needing assistance because of his broken arm definitely fell into that category.

My father clapped him on the back. “You got it.”

Roman stuck with Carson to drive his Jeep, while my parents and I started the hike to our cars. The whole way, my concern for Carson grew as I thought more about what he’d said, or more accurately, what he hadn’t said. Like Jake had said, he was eerily calm about the whole thing. Something was off.

He needs time. This had only just happened, and on top of that, my family had descended on him. He hadn’t had a moment to think. Him thinking won’t make it better—it will probably make it worse.

At Carson’s house, my mother and I prepared side dishes while the guys manned the grill on the patio.

“I am so proud of you, honey,” she gushed. “It didn’t seem appropriate to tell you earlier while we were waiting for Carson, but I am really, really proud.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I muttered, keeping my head down as I washed celery. “I didn’t win or anything.” I wasn’t comfortable with praise in general but especially that which I hadn’t earned.

“No, but I know that putting yourself out there like that is hard for you, so I’m proud that you did it.”

“Well, thanks.”

“So…” Her gaze slid over to me as she peeled potatoes. “Roman told us that you and Carson are dating.”

Ripping the individual stalks of celery apart, I groaned. “Really? He just couldn’t keep his fat mouth shut, could he? I swear, he’s a gossip.” That was another thing I needed to talk to Carson about. Though Roman had said they were cool, I wanted to hear Carson’s side of it since he’d been worried about it.

My mom shrugged. “It was only a matter of time.”

I blinked, trying to hide my shock at her statement. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve known for years how you felt about him.”

I’d begun to cut the celery, but my hands paused mid-chop. “What?” That had been my most closely guarded secret, and there my mother was, nonchalantly telling me she’d known.

“Honey, I’m your mother,” she said in a tone that indicated being my mother was reason enough for her to figure out my secrets. “And Carson was at our house nearly every day for almost a decade. Of course I knew.”

“Did Dad know?” I was horrified. My parents shared everything. It was what made their marriage so strong and something I’d once considered as one of my marriage goals. But I was rethinking that stance now that it meant humiliation for me.

“Pfft. Please. The man