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The rest of the morning only proves that to be true.
We sit down to breakfast, and Jonah brings it up. “Guess who was at my house this morning!”
My dad looks at him and grins. “Hm…was it one of those creeper guys from your game?”
“Nope!” Jonah says gleefully.
“Was it Cade?” my mom asks.
“Wrong again!” he says as he takes a bite of bacon.
“Who?” they ask him at the same time, and my chest squeezes as he says the name.
“Coach Nash, the new coach for the Aces!” he cries out. “He is so cool. He watched Minions with me!”
“Nash?” my dad says. “Really?” He turns toward me. “You’re letting your kid hang out with Nash?”
I feel…exposed. Seen. Nervous. Is this it?
“He’s going out with Cade’s mom,” Jonah explains.
Phew.
At least I’m not the one who’s responsible for relaying that information to my parents.
“With Sam?” my mom says, her eyes turning toward me. “And how do you feel about that?”
I shrug. “We sort of got into an argument about it last night,” I admit, though I don’t want to be having this conversation in front of my son who basically idolizes the man.
“You and Sam did?” my mom clarifies.
I clear my throat. “Yes. She knows how we feel.”
“About what?” Jonah asks.
“About that good for nothing Nash family,” my dad mutters. “You know his dad purposely hurt me during practice so badly that I never got to play football again?”
“We don’t know that, Dad,” I say, immediately jumping to the Nash’s defense—which I realize too late is great for my son but horrible for my parents.
My mom gasps at my outburst, and my father turns hard eyes on me. “First he took me out of the game, and then he tried to oust me from my own business.” He shakes his head. “And he used his sons against us, too. He tried to get them involved in the fight, and that family fights dirty. I wouldn’t put it past that coach to use your friend to try to manipulate you.” He’s talking to me, and I’m looking at my son, who looks like he just lost a hero.
I’m devastated for him, and I have no idea what to say.
I really didn’t think Lincoln would be the focus of our entire breakfast, but clearly I was mistaken. I barely even touch my bacon, my appetite suddenly gone.
I wait until later when we’re on our way home to talk to my son about what happened. I can’t seem to do it in front of my dad, and I hate that I still feel that pressure after all these years.
But it is, after all, a big reason why Lincoln and I have to be careful.
“Honey, it’s okay if you like Mr. Nash.”
I glance at him in my rearview mirror. He’s looking out the window and he doesn’t say anything, and it breaks my heart. After last night…it just feels like the kid has been through enough.
“Grampy just doesn’t like his dad.”
“But he said the dad got the sons involved—” he starts, but I interrupt.
“And I want you to form your own opinion of him.” I say it firmly and clearly even though I obviously haven’t allowed myself to take the same advice.
