Cassie leaned forward from the driver seat. “Sorry, when I made plans with you I forgotten I’d already told them we’d hang out. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not if they don’t mind me bitching about men,” she grumbled, then her eyes widened. “Complain. Complain about men. Sorry.”
Another head leaned forward form the backseat. This one an icy-cool blonde with mature eyes. “We’re teenagers, not toddlers. We can say curse words, too.”
Cassie sighed. “Aileen, meet my other sister, Irene. She’s gifting us with her presence. Make sure you’re suitably grateful.”
Irene rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. Aileen moved back to give Mellie room to exit, and then together they rounded the car. Cassie already had a blanket laid out on the concrete floor.
“We could have gone to the mall,” Irene said, her voice indicating she was very much put out by this outing, “but Cassie wanted privacy and a place to talk.” She glanced at Aileen’s outfit of worn jeans, hoodie, and Converse. “You could have come, too.”
Aileen had the distinct feeling she’d been mentally labeled a fashion victim by a seventeen year old.
“I like talking.” Mellie sat down, cross-legged, uncaring that her plaid skirt raised up to the point of seeing her boy shorts below. Irene sat in a more ladylike position, her own matching plaid skirt draped carefully over her thighs. Clearly, they were wearing school uniforms. Cassie plopped down easily, her jeans and dark blue Bobcats polo making any position possible. She patted the blanket beside her.
“Sit. I brought goodies and drinks.”
“Any wine?” Irene asked, looking through the basket in the center of the blanket.
Cassie shot Aileen an amused look. “Darn, forgot the wine. Silly me.”
Irene raised a brow to indicate she caught the sarcasm, then pulled out waters and handed them to Mellie, Cassie, and Aileen before getting her own. Then she pulled a tin of cookies and a few other boxes of goodies out and set them in a neat little row like the young hostess she was.
“Wow, impressive. A picnic, and a great view. How’d you know about this parking garage?” Aileen asked Cassie as she picked up a napkin and a brownie.
“Trey brought me here. It has a good view of downtown, so he showed me the different areas from a birds-eye view.” Her gaze went a little soft and she stared at the threads of the blanket, as if lost in thought.
“Did you guys make out up here?” Irene asked, looking much more interested in the current topic than any before. Mellie started to speak, but Irene elbowed her sister and muttered a, “Shh,” before asking again, “Did you?”
“Uh, we might have kissed,” Cassie admitted, her face flushing. “But really, the view . . .” She waved a hand out toward the railing and the city beyond.
Uh-huh. Aileen hid her grin with a bite of brownie.
“How’s the story with Killian going?” Cassie asked a moment later.
“Killian Reeves, the kicker?” Irene sat up straight and gave Aileen her full focus. “Number seven, leading the conference in yards, super-quiet Killian Reeves?”
“That’s the one.” She was her father’s daughter, that much was certain. “And as far as the story . . . it’s a non-thing.” She swallowed another bite, debated against another, then reached for a cookie instead. Variety was the spice of life, after all. “I declined to finish the interview, and then got fired for it.” She shrugged her shoulder when Cassie and Mellie gasped. Irene looked curious, but like she didn’t want to appear to care. Teenagers. It was a delicate balance of remaining aloof and worldly all at once. “It’s okay. I wasn’t going anywhere with that job, and my boss was an ass—jerk,” she finished pathetically.
“We know—” Irene started.
“About cursing, yes we’ve heard,” Cassie cut her off. Turning back to Aileen, she said, “Ignore her. She’s seventeen going on seventy. Do you have something else lined up?”
“At this point, I’m probably going to be working at the bowling alley for a while. Until I get my feet under me,” she added when Cassie looked horrified. “It’s not that bad. I mean, cleaning the shoes sucks, but—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just . . . you’re talented. I’ve watched your stuff. You’re funny and cute on camera and you get people to talk easily and the guys all adore you. And you’re honest, which, let’s face it, is a trait not all media people carry,” she added, her face darkening a moment. “Some other place should snap you up in a heartbeat.”
“Should and will are two different things, sadly. I’m fine.” She picked up a lemon bar, because why the hell not? “I’ll be okay.”
“What happened with the Killian interview? Did he bail on you?” Mellie asked.
“No, I just couldn’t finish it.” She swallowed the bite of lemon bar, then realized she had to swallow again. It felt stuck.
“Too boring?” Irene asked wisely. “He never says anything, ever.”
“No . . . I just couldn’t.” She glanced at Cassie and saw a wealth of understanding in her warm eyes. Cassie nodded once, then reached out and rubbed a hand over Aileen’s back.
The simple comfort went a long way toward soothing the worst of her ragged edges. “It’ll be okay,” she said with resolve. Because it had to be. There were no backups.
And if she woke up every morning with a damp pillowcase from tears, that was her problem and nobody else’s.
Chapter Twenty-three
The season was over. Killian slumped against his locker, unable to believe the time had come. For the first time since he’d started playing in the NFL, he didn’t feel relief. It wasn’t a weight lifted off his shoulders to know he didn’t have to worry about keeping himself distant for another play-off.
Partly because he knew he’d miss seeing his fellow Bobcats every day now. They’d become more than teammates. They were friends.
But the truth was, it was Aileen he’d miss seeing. She’d stopped coming around his apartment, stopped showing up at practices, and hadn’t answered his two phone calls. Crazy how, when she’d started showing up, he’d considered her a nuisance. A cute nuisance, but one nonetheless.
Now, four days of silence was driving him insane, and he craved even the barest glimpse of her. He needed to know if she was okay, if she was upset . . .
If she forgave him.
Trey, already dressed in the khakis and button-down shirt he’d come to the stadium in, walked over, and gave him a light tap on the shoulder. “Nice game.”
“We lost,” Killian reminded him.
“But you did your job. Two field goal attempts, two field goals. Can’t ask for more than that.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t our season. Maybe next year.”
“Yeah.” Killian tossed a towel into the nearby hamper and grabbed his suit pants. “What’s up with you for the off-season?”
“Cassie,” Trey said with a grin. The woman’s name came out on a sigh, like a prayer. He sank onto the bench beside Killian. “I very much look forward to spending some time with her where I’m not juggling practice and being on the road.”
Because jealousy was never attractive, Killian nodded instead of snapping, Lucky you. “Thank her again, please, for getting her sister, Irene, to babysit Charlie today.”
“Trust me, it was no problem.”
Killian hesitated, then asked, “Is she always that uptight, or was that because she was nervous?” When Cassie’s sister—Coach Jordan’s daughter—had shown up at his apartment, she’d been quiet, barely saying two words. Though when Charlie had raced out of his room to inspect the new visitor, she’d softened considerably. Enough that he was sure she’d be fine with him. And Mrs. Reynolds was across the hall, in case they needed anything.