Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Stella

I take a last look at Sorcha, then head to the kitchen. When I get there, mom is already sitting, sipping a coffee. On the table in front of the chair where I usually sit is a bottle of orange juice.

I could really use a coffee, but Mom doesn’t think Selma and I should drink anything with stimulants. She doesn’t know that Lexie, Selma and I usually get together for coffee after practice.

I uncap my orange juice and gulp it down. It tastes like nectar and I realize I haven’t hydrated enough today. I pour myself a glass of water and drink half of it.

Mom watches while I settle in, then says quietly, “Please explain.”

I stare down at my hands. “Lachlan’s mom died today. Sorcha is his sister. She needs a place to stay.”

Mom has an amazing bullshit detector. “Why here, Stella? There must be a half-dozen other places he could take her.”

Oh mama, this gonna go so badly. “I’ll tell you but promise you won’t interrupt until I’m done.”

Mom nods and looks at me expectantly.

“Lachlan has a daughter, Gabby, and when he went to prison?—”

“He went to prison!”

Zip it, mom. “You said you would let me finish.”

“I’ll try,” she says as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“Lachlan went to prison for 18 months and when he got out, family services prevented him from seeing his daughter without supervision.”

Mom wriggles in her chair and looks like she’s about to explode. She so wants to say something, but she’s trying to keep it inside.

“He’s trying to get that lifted so he can have her on weekends. Take her home. Which is why he bought the house across the street and also why you calling the cops messed with his chances.”

Mom loses her battle. “But we told the police he was innocent.”

“Yeah, but apparently that doesn’t matter. When we went to the meeting this morning?—”

“What meeting?”

Crap, Stella. She didn’t need to know that. “He was supposed to see Gabby today, but the case worker wouldn’t let him without having a meeting to get the details on what happened.”

She stares at me, her face getting redder. “And you went with him? Why?”

Slow down, Stella. Think of your words before you say them. “His advocate asked if I would come along. It would give him the appearance of stability.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Mom starts to raise her voice, but I shush her and jerk my head towards the living room.

“That’s ridiculous,” she whispers. “You’re a 20-year-old girl, and yes, I mean girl, in your second year at Nevada University dedicated to her basketball career. No one in the world would believe you’re hooking up with an unkempt Viking who runs with a criminal bike gang.”

“He’s Scottish,” I reply, then realize that’s not the best comeback.

“This is a serious situation and you’re joking about it. That right there highlights the ridiculousness of you as a couple.”

Tears burn my eyes as I retreat to the little girl being scolded by my mother, but if I don’t stand up to her, then I lose what I’m badly starting to want. “People see me, you see me. See how young I am. Think I’m immature, think it’s a crush that’ll pass. So no one takes me seriously. But despite my age, I’m also disciplined, know who I am, know what I want.” I blink hard to regain my composure. “And I’m disappointed that you don’t see that in me.”

Nothing like turning the tables. “I don’t think that, honey,” she backpedals. “I think you’re naive, which has nothing to do with your maturity.”

“Maybe I am. But I have to grow up sometime. Lachlan is a good man. I feel it in my bones.”

“You barely know him.”

“I know enough. He’s devastated by the loss of his mother. He would do anything to gain unsupervised access to his daughter. And he’s panicking because he might lose his sister.”

“You’re risking your career, you know. You’re so tied up in Lachlan’s life that you walked out on practice yesterday and skipped it today and there’s a pre-season game tonight that you’re hardly prepared for.”

Damn Selma! I open my mouth to speak, but mom holds up her hand. “You want to show that your stability adds to Lachlan’s life, yet it won’t if you get suspended from the team. It’ll work against you.”

I have no comeback because she’s right. “Fine. I’ll get serious about basketball. I’ll make the game tonight even if I’m benched, and I’ll go to practice in the morning. But you need to face facts. Your dream of me being in the NBA is a pipedream. You should concentrate your energy on Selma, because she’s going places.”

“That’s such a defeatist attitude.”

I shake my head. “It’s realistic. And frankly, there are more important things than basketball.”

Mom gasps like I’ve committed blasphemy. “You love the game and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

I shrug like I don’t care even though my stomach is coiling at the idea of not playing basketball. “I’ll become a Phys-ed teacher, get a job coaching high school students. Or I’ll apply to become an assistant coach in a college league.”

“Which could move you out of town.”

I’m screaming inside, I’m so frustrated. “I would anyway. Even if I got drafted, it wouldn’t be here.”

I hear Sorcha call, “Mommy,” in tiny little words.

I stand. “You have to do this for me, mom. You have to look after Sorcha and keep her hidden here.”

Mom purses her lips as Sorcha calls for her mom again. “I will not lie for him.”

“You won’t be. You’ll be lying for me.”

Mom follows me into the living room. Sorcha’s sitting up, her face red and puffy from sleep and tears.

She looks at me. “Where’s my mommy?”

I sit next to her and pull her close. She snuggles into my heat. “Remember what Lachlan told you about your mommy.”

She presses her head into my chest. “She’s deaded?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Hollowness creeps through me at what this little girl is going through. I look across the room at my mom. She drives me crazy, sure, but if I lost her…. The thought chokes me up.

“Like my kitty,” Sorcha replies. She puts her thumb in her mouth.

“Yeah,” I say softly.

“Are you going to be my new mom?” she asks me again.

Mom shakes her head. “Don’t make her promises you can’t keep.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I say in a surly voice, but I’m at a loss for words.

Mom comes over, sits beside Sorcha. “No one can replace your mom, sweetie. But lots of people will make sure that you’re looked after. Lachlan will always look after you.”

Now who’s making promises?

Sorcha shoves away from me and thrusts herself backward into the cushions of the couch. “I want Lachlan!”

“He’ll come soon,” mom says.

“I want him now!”

I feel helpless as she bounces over and over.

“He’s… working on stuff.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “He’ll be back as soon as he can. I promise.”

Sorcha stops bouncing and looks at my mom long and hard. “Are you a gramma?”

“I guess I am.” She meets my eyes and shrugs.

“I don’t have a gramma,” Sorcha replies as she studies my mom. She hesitates. “Gramma’s make cookies. That’s what my friend, Raine, says.”

Oh, to be that young again.

Mom chuckles. “Yes, gramma’s do make cookies. And I was going to make some. Would you like to help?”

Sorcha hesitates, looks at me.

I nod.

“Okay,” she says to mom in a small voice.

“What’s your favorite cookie, sweetheart?” mom asks.

Sorcha puts her thumb in her mouth again and mumbles around it. “I like all cookies, but I like the ones with chocolate chips in them best.”

“Let’s go make some chocolate chip cookies, then.” She reaches out her hand and Sorcha slides off the couch and takes it, but then looks back at me. “Are you coming?”

I think about Lachlan and about the game. And I think about what mom said. “Is it okay if I go out for a while? I have to go to work.”

Sorcha hesitates, then nods. “Will the gramma stay here?”

“Yes. She won’t leave you. And Lachlan will be back to see you too.”

“Okay,” she replies as she all but dismisses me. “Let’s go, gramma.”

Mom looks conflicted, but in the end, she smiles. “Let’s go, sweetie.”

I wait until they get to the kitchen, then slip away, and drive to the uni. The game’s in an hour and coach will be livid.

I’m not wrong. “Thanks for joining us, princess,” she sneers when I arrive on the court.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Things got away from me.”

“What things are more important than basketball?”

Coach is coach. Cranky, driven, hard on us. But that’s the way to win games and we are winning team. Because she’s that good, because she was an unbelievable NCAA player until a knee injury ended her career.

She also stands up for us, faces down the sports committee, takes no shit from the faculty. And she cares about her players, all of us, including me. But she’d react like my mom did if I told her the whole story, so I say, “I can’t tell you.”

Her face goes through a number of expressions - from anger to curiosity to disbelief and then finally, acceptance. “You’re benched tonight.”

I knew it was coming, but it still hurts. It’s the first pre-season game and it’s against the Las Vegas Lady Rebels, our long-time rivals. My ego is big enough to think that my contribution would lead us to victory. But I nod. No point in arguing. She’d do the same with any other player who was missing practice.

We win the game, but only by four points, which isn’t comfortable. Coach reinforces it in the dressing room. “This is preseason. They aren’t working hard. If they were, you’d be sitting here, hanging your heads, bitching about the loss.” Then she goes through all the things we did wrong, what we need to do better, tells us not to be late for practice in the morning, glares at me, and stomps out of the room.

I groan inwardly. Six AM. This time I have to be there. I think about calling Lachlan to explain, then decide not to. Practice will be three hours, then I have two classes. I can’t decide whether to go to them or skip them. My conversation with mom brought a few realities to light. If I don’t have a career in the WNBA, then what’ll I do afterwards? Coach or teach. I’m doing an arts program but I guess I could switch to education.

My mind turns to Lachlan. What will he do? Stay with the Jury? It doesn’t matter how I feel about him, I doubt I could ever be an old lady. Maybe it doesn’t matter. What if this is a passing thing? Me crushing on him. Him needing my support to get through this mess. And then, when everything’s resolved, what if we go our separate ways?

The thought makes my body hurt and I blow out a breath to steady myself.

“What’s going on?” Selma says as she sits next to me on the bench in the locker room.

Lexie crowds me on the other side. “I heard the news about the shooting. Leslie Faust got killed. Is that Lachlan’s mom?” They’re both curious, want the scoop. I would too if the situation were different, but it still annoys me.

“Yeah. He’s a mess.” I don’t know how much to tell them.

“I bet. They said his mom had a daughter,” Selma says. “Is it his sister?”

“Well, duh.”

Selma’s face reddens. “Dumb question.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s sorting things out.”

“That’s good,” Selma says dismissively, not understanding how deeply involved I am. “Tough game. Let’s shower and get some food in us.”

Lexie glances at me. She knows there’s more to that. “I’m in,” she says.

“I can’t,” I reply. “Gotta head to mom’s. Early practice and unlike you, I didn’t get a chance to work up an appetite.”

“This about Lachlan?” Selma demands.

I shrug as I grab my bag and stand. “See ya.” I can change later. It’s not like I have sweat to wash off.

Just as I step outside, the phone rings. I quickly pick up the call thinking it’s Lachlan. It’s not.

“Stella, it’s Meredith,” she says after I say hello. “Lachlan’s got a visit with Gabby day after tomorrow. I want you there for optics and support.”

Holy. It’s like I have two moms, three if you count Coach. “What time?” I say. If this helps Lachlan, I’m not going to say, no.

“11:30. Lachlan will fill you in on the details.”

“Okay,” I reply as Meredith hangs up on me. At least I’ll make practice in the morning, but I’m going to have to put off my classes.