Page 9 of Her Game Plan

I sigh. “He’s never going to call me anything but Mr. Devine, is he?”

Pitty chuckles. “Never.”

I stop next to my personal parking spot, unlocking the black Audi R8 waiting for me. “You coming to my house on Friday night?”

Hosting a dinner and party to celebrate the last night of rookie training camp, on the Friday before the rest of us report, is a tradition I look forward to every year. I love getting all my people together and showing them a good time.

Pitty nods. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I’ve been coordinating the menu with my chef for almost a month. She’s bringing in the cook from that new steakhouse downtown to prepare the porterhouses.”

“You know you could have us all go to the steakhouse, right?” Pitty asks. “You’re not required to host every function at your place. Or to come to the first week of training camp. Or, while I’m at it, to foot the bill for Rip when he decides to buy rounds at the club without checking what they were serving rounds of first.”

I shade my eyes; the July sun is too bright, even with my baseball cap on. “He’ll pay me back.”

“He won’t,” Pitty disagrees. “We both know the man is an idiot with money.”

“I have more than I know what to do with, anyway. And I like to help people out.”

Pitty shakes his head. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days if you keep helping out everyone who asks.”

I lift one shoulder. “Maybe, but it’s worth it.”

Pitty says goodbye, and I climb into my car, checking the clock before deciding to head to Nan’s.

On my streaming app, I scroll past my “Games” playlist and select “Music.” The opening lyrics of “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World blare through my speakers, the exact same beat I’ve pulled out of this parking lot to thousands of times.

Traffic is terrible at this time of day, so “American Idiot” has already started by the time I pull into the parking lot of Sunshine Hills, rather than the closing notes of “Snow (Hey Oh)” like it is when I come by earlier in the day.

I look up at the large red building, trying to catch a glimpse of my grandmother on the porch of the communal dining area. When I was traded to the Stallions seven years ago, Nan was happy to make the move. Unfortunately, when she fell during the first snowstorm, we quickly realized she needed more help than the neighbor boy shoveling snow for her. I offered to get her a full staff, but she refused. So, we started the very depressing process of looking for an assisted living center. We toured twelve of the best places in Denver before settling on Sunshine Hills. It’s home to the who’s who of the over-eighty crowd, and the only place that felt good enough for Nan.

“Hey, Callan.” Ginger brushes her dark brown hair over her shoulder as she calls out her greeting. “Can’t wait for the season to start again, though it’s going to be much harder for us to get that drink…”

I let her unspoken request go unanswered, opting for a simple “hello” instead. When Nan first moved in, the staff tried their best to remain professional, but I was regularly asked to sign jerseys. Then, when the women realized I was single—thanks, Nan—I was regularly asked out on dates, or at the very least, a willingness to spend time together was hinted at strongly. Fortunately, that died down fairly quickly. Now, Ginger’s the only staff member who continues to hit on me. Every time I visit.

An impressive level of dedication, really.

I make my way past the elevator, electing to take the wide staircase to the second floor, where the large dining space is located. Nan plays cards with friends every day at this time, so I know where to find her. It’s a cool enough day that the table of four is outside, their fair skin hidden beneath the large umbrella I know they all hate.

“Hey, Devine,” Billy Walsh says when I walk out. I slide my sunglasses back over my eyes.

“Billy. Jacob. Rose.” I wave at them as I pull over a chair to join their table. I never play, though they’d be happy to deal me in. “Hi, Nan.” I lean down to kiss her cheek before sitting.

“Don’t you have a job you’re supposed to be at?” Nan’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she asks.

I lean back in my chair. “I’ve already wowed the new guys with my intelligence and athletic prowess, so I thought I’d come find you all. Keeps me humble.”

“Humble. I wasn’t aware you knew that word.” Her raspy voice makes it seem like she’s been smoking for the last seventy-five years, even though I know she gave it up before having my father in her twenties.

“What’s the boy got to be humble about?” Rose asks, her gaze still entirely focused on the cards in front of her. “He’s loaded, has the body of a Greek god, and his face is as cute as a button. Plus, he plays pro football.”

Nan touches the spot next to her lips. “You’ve got a little drool, Rose.”

“I was more concerned about that big ol’ brown spot on her nose,” Jacob grouses.

“You all leave Rose alone,” I jump in to defend the sweet lady with excellent taste. “It’s not her fault she’s the only one with eyes that work well enough to see the truth in front of her.”

The entire table laughs, and my heart softens. It’s a warmth that makes me feel a sense of contentment unlike I find anywhere else.