Catching Jordan by Miranda Kenneally

acting so weird, bro?” I ask.
    “I’m acting weird because I have an incredible piece of gossip,” Mike says in a low voice.
    “Mike, I think you should forget an NFL career and become my agent. You shouldn’t waste your schmoozing skil s.”
    Mike laughs. “The thought’s crossed my mind. So aren’t you interested to hear my news?”
    “Of course!” I say.
    “You know who Mr. Taylor’s brother-in-law is, right?”
    “No.”
    “He’s the head coach of Notre Dame.”
    “So?”
    “Mr. Taylor asked if you might be interested, sis, but I told him that Alabama’s your first choice. But I said that it would be worth it for his brother-in-law to come take a look at Ty.”
    “Thanks so much, Mike,” I say, hugging my brother.
    “Thanks,” Ty says. His eyes are darting around from the field to Mike to me to his ice cream sundae. Why’s he so nervous?
    “Cool—wel , I’l leave you guys alone. I’ve got some more chatting to do,” Mike says as he stands up and shuffles back to the bar.
    Ty rubs the back of his neck again and stares down at the field. “This has been a weird couple of days, Woods,” he mutters.
    “Tel me about it,” I reply before thinking. Why the hel did I say that?
    “After the game today, can we go somewhere to talk? Alone?”
    Me and Ty alone?
    “Of course,” I reply, calm and professional.
    But inside?
    My heart and stomach are bouncing around like yo-yos.
    ty’s place
    It’s not destitute.
    It’s not Trump Plaza.
    It’s a cute house
    white paint chipping off its sides the lawn overgrown but
    nothing a lawn mower couldn’t cure.
    Wildflowers litter the yard morning glory and goldenrod exploding like Skittles, but white clover in spring is my favorite (when I was little, Henry made me necklaces out of it).
    All in all,
    JJ and Henry live in squalor compared to Ty.
    But the look on Ty’s face
    tells me something is very, very wrong here.
    he knew…?
    “What did you want to talk about?” I ask as I put my truck in park. He grabs my hand and in silence, we sit here holding hands for a few minutes. He keeps opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then shuts it again.
    “My dad died six months ago,” he says final y.
    Surprising myself, I reach over and draw him into a hug. He lets his forehead rest on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
    “Awful car wreck. Drunk driver.”
    “Is that why you moved here?”
    He pul s his body away, but keeps his arms around me. “Sort of.”
    “You said you live with your mom and sister? And grandfather?”
    “Yeah—you should come in and meet Papa. He’s great.”
    “Do I get to meet your mom and sister too?”
    He shifts in his seat and starts playing with my sunroof again. “My mom was in the car too.”
    But if she was in the car…and didn’t die…? “What happened?”
    “Um, wel , she’s, um, paralyzed?” Ty buries his eyes in the heels of his hands. “And I mean, I real y tried my best to take care of everything so my sister and I could stay in Texas…but I couldn’t…”
    “Why are you tel ing me this?”
    He drops his hands and turns to stare into my eyes. “We’re friends, right? I hope we are…I left everything in Texas.”
    I grab his hand. “Of course we’re friends.”
    “Wel , my dad didn’t have as much life insurance as I thought he would…wel , we didn’t have much money to begin with. But Mom needs a lot of care…like, care I can’t give her? She needs a nurse.”
    “So you moved here so your grandfather could help out?”
    “Yeah…I had to sel our house in Texas…so we could afford Mom’s care. Plus my grandfather already had a job here working in a pajama factory.”
    “A pajama factory?”
    “Didn’t you know that Tennessee is, like, the pajama capital of the world?” Ty grins slightly.
    “No—I don’t wear pajamas,” I say without thinking.
    Ty coughs. “What?”
    “Uh, I meant I wear, like, workout clothes to bed—you know, Tshirts and mesh