Love Irresistibly
Page 44
The waitress showed up at their table before Cade could answer. “Are you guys ready to order?” She turned first to Zach, who squirmed in his seat.
“Oh. I guess I’ll have, um . . .” he trailed off while looking at the menu uncertainly.
In hindsight, Cade realized the place was a little trendy for a sixteen-year-old. What did he know? He hadn’t hung out with a teenager since he’d been one. “While he’s thinking, I’ll have the number eight. Cheddar cheese, and let’s do ketchup and mustard instead of mayo. Just a plain old, regular cheeseburger.”
Zach looked relieved as he handed his menu to the waitress. “I’ll have one of those, too. And a chocolate shake.”
After the waitress left, Cade watched as Zach ripped open a straw and sucked down nearly half of the glass of ice water sitting in front of him.
“It’s like an awkward first date, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Zach pointed between them. “Oh, this? Yeah, I guess.”
“Just with a man who’s half my age and happens to be related to me.”
“That would be awkward.”
They both grinned, and some of the tension was broken. Cade fell back on lawyerly instinct—he was good at getting witnesses to talk, to open up and feel comfortable. With that in mind, he started with one of the few things he did know about Zach. “So you like football, obviously.”
Zach toyed with the straw wrapper. “Yeah, I’ll be on varsity this year.”
“What position do you play?”
A voice from the past echoed in his head. What position do they got you at?
He really needed to figure out how to shut that voice up.
“Wide receiver,” Zach said. “I’ve been running a lot of drills this summer, trying to shave a few hundredths off my forty. Coach is always saying that my hands are my strength, not my feet. But I’d still like to be a little faster.”
“Have you tried overspeed drills?” Cade asked.
Zach shook his head. “What’s that?”
“Training that reduces resistance when you sprint, allowing you to run faster than normal. Wrap a towel around your waist and have a teammate hold you back while you start to run. He lets go after a few steps, and you get a burst of speed, quicker than what your body normally can do. And you could also run sprints downhill.”
They talked football for a while, with Zach asking enough questions to make Cade curious. “Noah played wideout in high school. I’m sure he’s had lots of tips for you, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve just, you know, been trying to come up with a few ideas on my own, too.” The waitress brought Zach his chocolate shake, and he seemed grateful for the interruption. He took a long draw of the shake and smiled. “That’s a really good shake.”
Cade’s prosecutor instincts were on alert, sensing that something was not quite right here. “Can I ask you something, Zach? Do you want to play football?” He could easily imagine Noah, looking cool with his leather jacket and cigarette, trying to relive his glory days by pushing his son—the one he acknowledged, that is—into the sport.
Zach relaxed, as if he’d been bracing himself for a different question. “Heck, yes,” he said emphatically. “I love the feeling I get every time I strap on those pads, the rush of adrenaline in the locker room, and then that smell when I first step on the field. It’s like a combination of freshly cut grass, sweat—”
“And gasoline,” Cade finished.
“Exactly.” Zach studied him interestedly. “Can I ask you something? How did it feel when they told you that you couldn’t play anymore?”
Cade had been asked this question many times, and normally, he just fluffed off the answer or made a comment about going out on a high note. He appreciated people’s interest, and he understood their curiosity, but he saw no reason to let the whole world in on the fact that that had been one of the worst moments of his life.
But with Zach, for whatever reason, the usual answer felt like a cop out. “I’d seen myself going pro,” he told him. “Pictured it in my head probably a thousand times since I was ten years old. To have that dream taken away from me was a really tough pill to swallow.”
“So what’d you do?”
Cade shrugged. “Spent the next three months wallowing in self-pity, skipping classes, getting drunk, and generally being an ass**le.” He paused, considering his audience. “Not sure I’m supposed to be telling you things like that.”
“I’m sixteen. I’ve heard the word ass**le before.”
“I meant the part about skipping classes and getting drunk in college.” Cade pointed. “These stories are anecdotes, not advice. When you’re older, don’t do the things I did.”
“Wow,” Zach said. “You just sounded so much like my dad right then it was scary.”
“Yeah, well, when your dad tells you not to do the things he did, that’s damn good advice to take,” Cade said dryly.
Zach paused. “You really do hate him, don’t you?”
The blunt words, out of the blue, took Cade by surprise. “Mostly, I try not to think about him, Zach. And that’s how I’d like it to stay.”
Zach nodded, disappointment etched on his face. “I’m not saying I blame you. I’d probably feel the same way if I were in your shoes.”
There was one thing, however, that Cade did want to know. For Zach’s sake. “He’s a good father to you, then?”
“Oh. I guess I’ll have, um . . .” he trailed off while looking at the menu uncertainly.
In hindsight, Cade realized the place was a little trendy for a sixteen-year-old. What did he know? He hadn’t hung out with a teenager since he’d been one. “While he’s thinking, I’ll have the number eight. Cheddar cheese, and let’s do ketchup and mustard instead of mayo. Just a plain old, regular cheeseburger.”
Zach looked relieved as he handed his menu to the waitress. “I’ll have one of those, too. And a chocolate shake.”
After the waitress left, Cade watched as Zach ripped open a straw and sucked down nearly half of the glass of ice water sitting in front of him.
“It’s like an awkward first date, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Zach pointed between them. “Oh, this? Yeah, I guess.”
“Just with a man who’s half my age and happens to be related to me.”
“That would be awkward.”
They both grinned, and some of the tension was broken. Cade fell back on lawyerly instinct—he was good at getting witnesses to talk, to open up and feel comfortable. With that in mind, he started with one of the few things he did know about Zach. “So you like football, obviously.”
Zach toyed with the straw wrapper. “Yeah, I’ll be on varsity this year.”
“What position do you play?”
A voice from the past echoed in his head. What position do they got you at?
He really needed to figure out how to shut that voice up.
“Wide receiver,” Zach said. “I’ve been running a lot of drills this summer, trying to shave a few hundredths off my forty. Coach is always saying that my hands are my strength, not my feet. But I’d still like to be a little faster.”
“Have you tried overspeed drills?” Cade asked.
Zach shook his head. “What’s that?”
“Training that reduces resistance when you sprint, allowing you to run faster than normal. Wrap a towel around your waist and have a teammate hold you back while you start to run. He lets go after a few steps, and you get a burst of speed, quicker than what your body normally can do. And you could also run sprints downhill.”
They talked football for a while, with Zach asking enough questions to make Cade curious. “Noah played wideout in high school. I’m sure he’s had lots of tips for you, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve just, you know, been trying to come up with a few ideas on my own, too.” The waitress brought Zach his chocolate shake, and he seemed grateful for the interruption. He took a long draw of the shake and smiled. “That’s a really good shake.”
Cade’s prosecutor instincts were on alert, sensing that something was not quite right here. “Can I ask you something, Zach? Do you want to play football?” He could easily imagine Noah, looking cool with his leather jacket and cigarette, trying to relive his glory days by pushing his son—the one he acknowledged, that is—into the sport.
Zach relaxed, as if he’d been bracing himself for a different question. “Heck, yes,” he said emphatically. “I love the feeling I get every time I strap on those pads, the rush of adrenaline in the locker room, and then that smell when I first step on the field. It’s like a combination of freshly cut grass, sweat—”
“And gasoline,” Cade finished.
“Exactly.” Zach studied him interestedly. “Can I ask you something? How did it feel when they told you that you couldn’t play anymore?”
Cade had been asked this question many times, and normally, he just fluffed off the answer or made a comment about going out on a high note. He appreciated people’s interest, and he understood their curiosity, but he saw no reason to let the whole world in on the fact that that had been one of the worst moments of his life.
But with Zach, for whatever reason, the usual answer felt like a cop out. “I’d seen myself going pro,” he told him. “Pictured it in my head probably a thousand times since I was ten years old. To have that dream taken away from me was a really tough pill to swallow.”
“So what’d you do?”
Cade shrugged. “Spent the next three months wallowing in self-pity, skipping classes, getting drunk, and generally being an ass**le.” He paused, considering his audience. “Not sure I’m supposed to be telling you things like that.”
“I’m sixteen. I’ve heard the word ass**le before.”
“I meant the part about skipping classes and getting drunk in college.” Cade pointed. “These stories are anecdotes, not advice. When you’re older, don’t do the things I did.”
“Wow,” Zach said. “You just sounded so much like my dad right then it was scary.”
“Yeah, well, when your dad tells you not to do the things he did, that’s damn good advice to take,” Cade said dryly.
Zach paused. “You really do hate him, don’t you?”
The blunt words, out of the blue, took Cade by surprise. “Mostly, I try not to think about him, Zach. And that’s how I’d like it to stay.”
Zach nodded, disappointment etched on his face. “I’m not saying I blame you. I’d probably feel the same way if I were in your shoes.”
There was one thing, however, that Cade did want to know. For Zach’s sake. “He’s a good father to you, then?”
