Chapter 8

Milo

 

 

I had sat alone in the hotel room for hours in complete silence. I didn’t have anyone to call, and I’d never felt more alone in my entire life. Coach’s invitation kept popping into my head, but I didn’t want to be a charity case. I was sick of being a charity case. I didn’t want to be the poor foster kid who had no parents or family to spend time with him or give him gifts.

After pacing the hotel room for what seemed like forever, I hit the gym for several hours. It didn’t help. I finally decided to swallow my pride and head to coach’s house. Hopefully, some of the other players would be there so it wouldn’t be just me.

I passed a grocery store with a huge sign posted in front that they were open. I whipped into the parking lot and roamed the aisles, trying to think of what I could take. I felt like a dumbass showing up at all. I for damn sure wasn’t going to show up empty-handed.

Figuring they’d already have a pumpkin for sure, I picked out a chocolate pie.

I pulled into the circular driveway of the coach’s house. It wasn’t quite as extravagant as I expected, but it was a nice place. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was walking into. I saw only two cars in the driveway and secretly hoped one of those cars belonged to Liza. I wanted to get a better look at her. I wondered if she remembered me and our one night together.

I knew she had been pretty drunk.

“Hey! I’m glad you’re here!” Coach greeted me with a huge smile.

I instantly felt better with his warm welcome.

“Thank you for inviting me, Coach. I really do appreciate it.”

“Come on in! I know you haven’t eaten yet, right?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Good. I was about ready to go back for seconds. Come on into the kitchen and let’s get you dished up. I hope you’re hungry,” he was saying as he crossed the large foyer. “Liza made a huge feast.”

My ears perked up at the mention of her name. So, she was here. This could be a little awkward.

“Sounds great,” I muttered.

“You remember, Liza, my daughter? You two would have graduated the same year.”

“Yes, I think I do,” I lied.

We stepped into the kitchen and there she was. She spun around and looked at me. I knew I probably had the same look of shock on my face as we stared at each other.

“I’ll take that pie,” Coach said, setting it on the counter with the others.

“You already ate,” I said, realizing the table was cleared.

Liza had turned back around and was busy cutting pie for the little girl.

“Here, help me with these,” Coach said as he pulled out container after container of what I assumed was leftovers. “Just set everything on the table and we can dish up from there,” he directed.

I did as he asked, trying to ignore the woman in the kitchen who was trying her hardest to ignore me as well.

“Let’s go outside and eat your pie,” Liza said to the little girl.

The redheaded kid slid off the stool and headed outside. A big golden retriever trailed along behind her. I stared at Liza’s back, waiting for her to look at me, but she never did.

“Grab a plate,” Coach ordered.

I did and started to heap food on my plate before popping it in the microwave. As I waited for my food to heat, I stared at the window, watching Liza and her daughter play on the swing. She was much prettier than I remembered.

“Bart!” Coach yelled out, startling me.

The dog’s ears perked up, and he quickly jogged for the door. Coach leaned down and handed the dog some turkey.

I took a seat across the table and began to eat, watching Coach feed the dog. I had been in plenty of households during my youth, and I knew that was a cardinal rule one was never supposed to break. It was kind of funny to see Coach Summers so blatantly going against the grain.

“Dad!” Liza said coming into the kitchen. “Stop feeding the dog from the table!” she scolded.

He grinned at me. “It’s my table and my dog. I don’t see any difference in feeding it to him here or over there,” he said, pointing to the dog’s food dish in the corner.

She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “It just is.”

The little girl came in behind her mother and headed for her grandpa. She pulled up the chair next to him and plopped down. She was intently studying me. I smiled.

“I’ll be right back,” Coach said, standing and heading into the living room.

“Dad,” Liza warned. “The game will be there.”

I could tell she was nervous. Her dad must have sensed her nervousness as well.

“He is a house guest, Liza. You’ll mind your matters, right Milo?”

“Yes, sir. I’m just going to sit here and eat this delicious food,” I mumbled around a mouthful of my favorite dish: sweet potatoes.

The little girl was still watching me. It was a little unnerving, but I did my best to ignore her. Liza was wiping down the counter and obviously busying herself so she didn’t have to talk to me. I was okay with that.

“You have my same hair!” the little girl blurted out, nearly making me choke on the food in my mouth.

I heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up in time to see Liza turn several shades of red. I grinned at the little girl.

“I do. I like your hair,” I said, not sure what else to say. “Red hair makes us special,” I winked.

She grinned.

“Ainsley, we need to go get you cleaned up,” Liza said, grabbing her daughter’s hand and yanking her out of the chair. “You shouldn’t stare at people, strangers, I mean, especially our guests,” she mumbled under her breath.

“I wasn’t staring; I was looking at his hair. It’s the same as mine, Mom.”

I stood up and walked around the table. “Hi, my name is Milo Pastek. What’s your name?”

“My name is Ainsley,” she said, extending her hand.

Reaching out my own, I shook her tiny one. “There, now we aren’t strangers. And I’m not a guest. I’m a player on your grandpa’s team.”

Ainsley defiantly looked up at her mother. “See, Mom. He’s my friend, so I can look at his hair.”

“How old are you, Ainsley?”

She held up her fingers. “Four.”

“Wow, you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Are you in school?”

She eagerly nodded her head. “Yep. I’m in preschool.”

“Very cool,” I said, getting ready to ask her what she liked best about school, but I never got the chance. Liza was pulling the little girl away.

“Now, young lady,” Liza said, pulling the little girl out of the room and refusing to meet my eyes.

I returned to my seat at the table and ate a few more bites before Coach came back in, thinking about the little girl who’d just been pulled away. I wasn’t all that familiar with kids. I signed a few autographs for young fans, but I didn’t typically spend a lot of time hanging out with them. Ainsley was cute, and she seemed really smart.

“That game isn’t worth watching. Those Colts are really struggling this year,” Coach mumbled as he came back into the kitchen. 

“That’s a good thing isn’t it?”

“No. I don’t want to play your old team in the playoffs,” he said with a heavy sigh.

I had to bite back the laugh that threatened to erupt.

“Coach, you think we’re going to make the playoffs?”

He glared at me. “Damn straight we are. Have a little faith.”

I didn’t say it, but I knew that even if I were a praying man, we didn’t have a chance in hell. I wasn’t going to burst his bubble or have a negative attitude though. Not today.

“Ready for some pie?” he asked, heading towards the counter where the assortment of pies was spread out.

“That’s a lot of pie,” I commented.

He shrugged. “Liza gets a little of everything. We never really know who’s going to show. She wants to make sure she has something for everyone.”

“Am I the only one who came today?” I asked, hoping he would tell me everyone else had just left.

“You are. Don’t you feel special?”

I felt special alright. Especially ridiculous.

“I’ll be ready for pie as soon as I finish this plate. This is really, really good,” I said, meaning every word. “Your daughter made all this?”

He nodded with pride. “She sure did. All by herself.”

“It’s amazing.”

He was still beaming when Liza strolled back into the kitchen, not making eye contact with me.

“Dad, we’re gonna head out. I’ll be by tomorrow to pick up the rest of the leftovers for the shelter.”

“You’re leaving already?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes, I’m tired and could really use a glass of wine and a little peace and quiet. I still have papers to grade, too. It’s been a very busy week,” she explained, carefully ignoring me.

Papers to grade. That meant she was a teacher. Good to see somebody was using that degree we all worked so hard to get in college. Well, that wasn’t right. I didn’t work hard at all. I skated by with the help of professors, tutors and a lot of very willing ladies who wanted me to succeed.

The little girl came running into the kitchen. “Bye, Papa!” she said, throwing her arms around Coach’s waist.

“Bye, sweetie. I’ll see you soon. Be good for your mom.”

“I will Grandpa. I always am,” she said, petulantly.

He laughed, and I heard Liza scoff. I smiled at the little spitfire. She waved to me. “Bye, Milo.”

“Bye, Ainsley,” I said, lifting a hand to wave back.

She smiled and bounced out of the kitchen. I went back to my plate of food and shoveled a large bite of mashed potatoes and gravy into my mouth when the world tilted.

I nearly choked. I looked up to see Liza walking out of the kitchen. I gulped the mouthful of food down my throat, making my eyes water. I stood up so fast my chair went sliding, causing the dog to bark.

“Everything okay?” Coach asked with concern.

I didn’t stop to answer him. I raced outside to see Liza pulling out of the driveway. I knew she saw me, but she didn’t stop.

Holy shit.

I stood in the driveway, staring at her car fading into the distance. That little niggle of an idea that started germinating yesterday had sprouted in my head. That little girl was four. Her red hair reminded me of myself when I was her age. The way Liza was avoiding me like the plague confirmed my suspicions. My mind rewound to that day five years ago when she had come to my dorm room. She had said she wanted to talk.

I had been a complete asshole, and she left. Had she wanted to tell me then that I was going to be a father?

“Everything okay, Pastek?” Coach called from the front door.

No, everything was not okay, but I certainly couldn’t tell him that. I turned around and looked at him. Did he know?

“It’s all good. I thought I was parked behind her. I didn’t want to block her in. She got out okay, though,” I said, hoping my excuse sounded legitimate.

“Let’s get some pie,” he said, turning and walking back into the house.

Looked like I would have to fake an appetite. My desire for pie had walked right out the front door with that little redheaded girl and her mother.

“Sounds good to me,” I mumbled with fake enthusiasm as I followed him into the kitchen.

My entire world had just been turned upside down and inside out. I knew better than to jump to conclusions, but something told me this wasn’t a jump at all. Now, I just had to get her to tell me the truth.