Page 27 of Worth the Trip

I stared at her. “You got my whole itinerary?”

“No itinerary.”

“You just gave me arrival and departure times.”

“Dates ain’t activities.”

Pops muttered, “She got activities too.”

Mama cut her eyes toward him.

I laughed. “I knew it.”

“I have suggestions.”

“That’s an itinerary with better branding.”

“Then don’t do the suggestions.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

That answer slowed me down.

Whatever I wanted.

I couldn’t remember the last time an entire stretch of days had been framed that way. No recruiting obligation I couldn’t hand off. No practice until I got back. No players meeting somebody else on staff couldn’t manage. No emergency waiting for me to solve it. The only thing standing between me and a few days away was the part of my brain that liked convincing me competent men should remain available simply because they could.

Pops tore a piece of cornbread in half. “Program gon’ survive.”

“Malcolm might not.”

“He’ll find somebody else to beg candy from,” Mama said.

I frowned. “How you know about that?”

“You told me.”

“When?”

She smiled. “You talk more than you think.”

Concerning.

Mama reached across the table and rested her hand over mine. “One weekend, baby.”

I looked at her, then at Pops, who had already returned to his food like he hadn’t helped orchestrate this entire thing. Lennox reached for another piece of cornbread with the same energy.

“Aight.” Mama’s smile appeared immediately. I pointed at her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That victory smile.”

“I’m smiling because my son made a sound decision.”

“I agreed to a cabin, not rehab.”