Diego was beginning to sound anxious.
“Thank you for this, mijo.” His worried tone jolted her into giving him a quick hug. “And you too, Amy.” She turned to Amy. Isabella’s look spoke volumes.
She did know.
Amy tucked her hair into the back of her dress and pressed herself into the soft leather seat of Diego’s vintage Mustang convertible. She’d always thought she would like convertibles, but the stiff breeze whipped around the windshield and tangled her long hair. Thanks to the heatwave, the night hadn’t cooled yet. Sweat prickled her back and mixed uncomfortably with her hair. A hair shirt. The penance seemed appropriate.
“Thank you for that. I think it went well.” Diego seemed immune to both Amy’s and his mother’s discomfort. Amy bit the inside of her bottom lip. Should she or shouldn’t she tell him? She could hear Paul Knight shouting inside her head, Mind your own goddamn business!
Diego should know, she decided. He might even be happier for it, especially if he could live his life the way he wanted to, openly and without remorse. She turned toward him so her words would not be cut off by the wind. “I think your mother knows.”
“Knows what?” Diego asked.
“About you. And probably about us, too.”
Diego clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles went white and kept his eyes straight on the road ahead.
“No. She doesn’t,” he said finally, shifting the car into a lower gear to take the corner hard and fast.
Amy fixed her gaze on him. His expression had hardened. Denial oozed from every pore.
“I think—”
“There’s nothing to think or know. I’m not doing anything with anybody except you. And as we both know, that’s not really anything either.”
“Okay.” Amy got the message and dropped the subject. If her boss didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room, then they wouldn’t. They drove on in silence. How was she going to repair this?
“Your parents’ house is lovely,” she said.
No answer.
“The food was really good.”
Diego sighed. “Mm.”
Not an actual word, but at least she was making a little bit of progress. Amy turned the pages of the afternoon over in her mind so she could put even more distance between them and the one topic that Diego wouldn’t acknowledge.
“I really liked your old coach. The one from UCLA. What was his name?”
Amy knew his name, but she needed an answer from Diego.
“Marcus.”
“It’s great that you’ve stayed in touch with him.”
“He’s a great guy.” A little bit of warmth crept into Diego’s voice. Not for her, but she would take whatever she could get at this point. “He’s always got my back.”
“How?”
“He found Casey for me.”
Amy’s stomach lurched. She absolutely shouldn’t bite. Two dangerous conversations in a row were two too many, and the minefields buried in this one were much harder to detect. She tried to beat down the curiosity rising in waves and actually opened her mouth to ask something about his great-grandmother. Instead, she heard herself say, “What do you mean found?”
“Marcus is involved with the woman’s program at UCLA. He knew Casey when she played there.”
The blue and gold Bruin soccer bag popped into Amy’s mind, and the puzzle pieces of Casey’s history started to slip together.
“She played there?” Amy echoed back.
“Yeah. She was the real deal too, until she blew out her knee.”
“I saw the brace.” What was wrong with her? She couldn’t stop herself talking about Casey. “I didn’t know they even made braces that big. It’s like a leg from the Iron Man costume.”
“You don’t even know the half of it. It was a terrible injury. And to make it all worse, she had just been called up to the women’s national team.”
“You’re kidding.” There wasn’t a girl alive who seriously kicked a ball down a soccer field and hadn’t dreamed about such a call.
“Not even a little bit. Got the call at the UCLA soccer
“Thank you for this, mijo.” His worried tone jolted her into giving him a quick hug. “And you too, Amy.” She turned to Amy. Isabella’s look spoke volumes.
She did know.
Amy tucked her hair into the back of her dress and pressed herself into the soft leather seat of Diego’s vintage Mustang convertible. She’d always thought she would like convertibles, but the stiff breeze whipped around the windshield and tangled her long hair. Thanks to the heatwave, the night hadn’t cooled yet. Sweat prickled her back and mixed uncomfortably with her hair. A hair shirt. The penance seemed appropriate.
“Thank you for that. I think it went well.” Diego seemed immune to both Amy’s and his mother’s discomfort. Amy bit the inside of her bottom lip. Should she or shouldn’t she tell him? She could hear Paul Knight shouting inside her head, Mind your own goddamn business!
Diego should know, she decided. He might even be happier for it, especially if he could live his life the way he wanted to, openly and without remorse. She turned toward him so her words would not be cut off by the wind. “I think your mother knows.”
“Knows what?” Diego asked.
“About you. And probably about us, too.”
Diego clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles went white and kept his eyes straight on the road ahead.
“No. She doesn’t,” he said finally, shifting the car into a lower gear to take the corner hard and fast.
Amy fixed her gaze on him. His expression had hardened. Denial oozed from every pore.
“I think—”
“There’s nothing to think or know. I’m not doing anything with anybody except you. And as we both know, that’s not really anything either.”
“Okay.” Amy got the message and dropped the subject. If her boss didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room, then they wouldn’t. They drove on in silence. How was she going to repair this?
“Your parents’ house is lovely,” she said.
No answer.
“The food was really good.”
Diego sighed. “Mm.”
Not an actual word, but at least she was making a little bit of progress. Amy turned the pages of the afternoon over in her mind so she could put even more distance between them and the one topic that Diego wouldn’t acknowledge.
“I really liked your old coach. The one from UCLA. What was his name?”
Amy knew his name, but she needed an answer from Diego.
“Marcus.”
“It’s great that you’ve stayed in touch with him.”
“He’s a great guy.” A little bit of warmth crept into Diego’s voice. Not for her, but she would take whatever she could get at this point. “He’s always got my back.”
“How?”
“He found Casey for me.”
Amy’s stomach lurched. She absolutely shouldn’t bite. Two dangerous conversations in a row were two too many, and the minefields buried in this one were much harder to detect. She tried to beat down the curiosity rising in waves and actually opened her mouth to ask something about his great-grandmother. Instead, she heard herself say, “What do you mean found?”
“Marcus is involved with the woman’s program at UCLA. He knew Casey when she played there.”
The blue and gold Bruin soccer bag popped into Amy’s mind, and the puzzle pieces of Casey’s history started to slip together.
“She played there?” Amy echoed back.
“Yeah. She was the real deal too, until she blew out her knee.”
“I saw the brace.” What was wrong with her? She couldn’t stop herself talking about Casey. “I didn’t know they even made braces that big. It’s like a leg from the Iron Man costume.”
“You don’t even know the half of it. It was a terrible injury. And to make it all worse, she had just been called up to the women’s national team.”
“You’re kidding.” There wasn’t a girl alive who seriously kicked a ball down a soccer field and hadn’t dreamed about such a call.
“Not even a little bit. Got the call at the UCLA soccer
Similar Books
