“That does sound good.” She bites the corner of her lip. “There’s this really great pizza place in my hometown.”
“All right. Let’s load back up then because I am ravenous.”
When we get back on the highway, Kota is more alert and plays with the music while I drive.
“I’m going to let my dad know we’re getting close.”
“What are your parents like?”
She hesitates. “They’re great. It’s just my dad and me now. My mom died when I was fifteen.”
“I had no idea. I’m sorry.” A heavy feeling settles in the bottom of my stomach.
“It’s okay. I mean. I don’t know. I never know how to respond to that. Thank you?” She smiles.
It occurs to me that for as much time as I’ve spent with Dakota, hanging out, partying, joking around, I don’t know that much about her. And I want to. “What does your dad do?”
“He’s a firefighter.”
“Badass.”
“Technically, he’s my stepdad, but he married my mom when I was five, so he’s just Dad.”
“And your real dad?”
“Real dad.” She rolls her eyes. “He wasn’t really into the family thing. He popped in occasionally when I was younger. I get a birthday card and a call on Christmas.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. Be sorry that my awesome mother died if you want, but not that my sperm donor isn’t part of my life. Some people just weren’t meant to be parents. My real dad is one of those.”
I wonder if my parents fit that criterion. They always made sure I had what I needed, but they were never very interested in doing the traditional parent activities like spending time together.
When we get close, Dakota navigates me through her hometown. I stop at the pizza place, and she runs in to get our order. Charli puts her paws up on the dash watching her.
Someone stops her at the doorway, and they embrace. Charli and I look on. My dog whines.
“I know. I know. She’s coming back.” I pat her head. Charli is a pretty friendly dog, but she’s got a major crush on Kota. Who could blame her? Dakota watched her for me recently when I had to make a trip up to Minnesota, and she always gives her attention, pets her, takes her on runs. We’re easy to please.
I check email on my phone. Hugh sent the final signed contract for my endorsement and my lease agreement. I lucked out being able to find a sublease for Dakota in the same building.
The Legends is usually booked up solid, but one of my new teammates was looking to offload his place while he moved back to his hometown to recuperate from surgery. I didn’t even think about him taking his stuff with him. I just assumed it was furnished.
She’s going to find out eventually that the endorsement is for the Maverick Corporation, but I couldn’t risk her passing because of pride. I could see how much she wanted the job, and she shouldn’t have to give that up because of something stupid like money.
She comes out a few minutes later with two large pizza boxes. I lean over to open the door for her, and the smell that takes over my truck is divine.
“Oh, man. My mouth just started watering.”
“Right.” She sits and flips open the lid revealing a sausage pizza. She frees a slice and takes a bite, then groans loudly. “You have to try it.”
She holds out the pizza to feed me, and I take a huge bite that makes her laugh.
“You almost got my fingers.”
“I’m so hungry. I hope one of those boxes is all mine.” I reach for another slice, and she smacks my hand. “Only one bite. We have to save the rest to eat with my dad.”
Dakota’s dad lives in a quiet subdivision on the east side of town. I park the SUV along the road, grab our overnight bags and Charli, and follow her up the sidewalk to an entrance at the back side of the house.
The screen door creaks open, and a big, burly guy with a gray beard steps out. “DJ!”
“Dad!” She holds the pizzas with one hand to her side and hugs him with the other.
Her dad looks at me over her shoulder and gives me the appropriate dad once-over. Charli growls in my arms.
Dakota laughs and pulls back. “Dad, this is Maverick. Maverick, meet my dad.”
“Maverick, huh?”
“Johnny Maverick, but everyone just calls me by my last name.” I drop Charli to the ground and step forward to shake his hand.
He stares at the tattoos along my arm as he reaches to take my hand. “Jerry. Thanks for driving my DJ.”
Kota rolls her eyes. “He always wanted a son. Hence the nickname.”
Jerry smiles and holds the door open for us or, well, her. I get the feeling ole Jer might let it slam in my face if it weren’t for Dakota holding it open with her foot while I shuffle through with Charli and the bags.
The house is small but has a homey feel. Everything is tidy and clean, but there are stacks of papers and clutter that my parents always kept out of view for guests.
We drop our stuff, and I feed Charli while Dakota and Jerry catch up. I try to hang back and give them some time, but Kota calls for me, and it’s a good thing because one whole pizza is gone by the time I sit down.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Jerry asks. From the kitchen table, he reaches over and opens the fridge. “I’ve got Coke or beer.”
“He wants beer, Dad,” Dakota says at the same time I say, “Coke will be fine.”
Jerry looks between us.
“Either one is great. Thanks.” I wipe my palms on my thighs. I don’t have a lot of experience with fathers. Especially girls’ fathers.
I mumble my thanks as he sets a Bud Light bottle in front of me. I think I’m sweating. Must be the humidity. Charli jogs in circles around the living room, then the kitchen, checking everything out.
I whistle lightly and pat my thigh to get her attention. “Come lie down, girl.”
“Ah, let her be,” Jerry says. “She’s been cooped up in the car all day. So, DJ, tell me about this job.”
My friend lights up and goes into it, telling her dad every single detail.
“You don’t know which player or what they’re endorsing?” Her dad leans back in his chair and takes a long drink of beer.
“No, but I checked out all the guys on the team and their endorsements, and there wasn’t anything crazy. My guess is that it’s some diva who needs a handler to make sure he shows up to set and looks pretty. Maybe Jack Wyld.” She looks at me. “He’s got quite the reputation for partying.”
“Jack’s a nice guy. I doubt he’d do anything to jeopardize a lucrative relationship. The guys I’ve met have all been levelheaded and cool.”
“Hockey players and levelheaded.” Jerry grins. “That’s funny, Maverick.” The way he says my name is almost like he’s mocking me.
Now I really am sweating.
I pull at the collar of my T-shirt to get some air.
“More ink, huh? What do all those mean?”
“Mean?” I drop my gaze to the tattoos on both arms.
“Back in my day, when a man got a tattoo, it meant something. Now you’re all covered in them, and it loses the sentimentality, don’t you think?”