Standing in an area between the chaotic locker room and the shower area, the quietest area there, he leaned against a nearby wall. “The mind is right. Hyped up to play, you know.”
“I know. I get it.” Gunnar kept his voice low and even, as though Gideon had planned on leaping from a plane without a parachute and Gunnar had to talk him out of the act.
The shorthand way of talking about their professions worked for Gideon. The same went for his younger brother, Thane, another professional athlete, who also understood the importance of pregame rituals.
“Congrats on your match. You took your opponent out in, what, ten minutes?” Gideon scratched the back of his head as he imagined his older brother’s serious countenance cracking.
“Seven, but who’s counting.” Gunnar laughed.
The sound brought him back home, back to a time when the two of them used to wrestle until one submitted or they got tired, whichever came first. Only one thing would have truly transported him to his childhood home in Virginia Beach. If he could see his composed mother, not in a hospital, but in her beloved flower shop where he used to help her, he would feel better.
“Good luck today. I’m sure you’re going to kick ass,” Gunnar exclaimed.
“Gunnar Wells.”
Gideon beamed as soon as he heard their mother in the background, the true reason for his call. Her calming voice and soothing nature always centered him. He could never figure out how he and his brothers had gotten so lucky to be adopted by a caring and compassionate woman.
He never saw himself and his African-American mother as being different. He saw himself as being Elizabeth Sommerville’s son. Full flesh and blood. She never treated him or his brothers any differently.
“Sorry, Ma,” Gunnar said to their mother. “Gid, I’m going to hand you over to Mom. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you, bro.” Gideon looked toward the locker-room area. He spotted one of his wide receivers shrugging his shoulders and pointing to his wrist, pantomiming that Gideon would need to hurry up and get ready.
Gideon nodded and turned his back on his teammate to give his full concentration to his mother.
“Darling, how are you doing?” Elizabeth’s words dripped with her trademark grace and elegance.
Gideon couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m fine, Mom, except I have this little thing I’m doing later.” He laughed.
“Cute.” She laughed and then got silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Ah, my baby.” She sighed.
“Thane’s your baby.”
“All of you are my babies. I worry about each and every one of you.” Elizabeth sighed, the sound audible through the phone.
Gideon remembered the nights she’d stay up staring out the living room window during Gunnar’s rebellious phase. She’d kept vigil by Thane’s bed, a particularly sickly child who’d grew out of that as soon as he’d hit puberty and discovered the opposite sex. Gideon had recognized his mother being pulled in different directions and had been determined, even as a snot-nosed kid, to be the least of his mother’s worries.
“I’m more concerned about you. How are you doing?” Elizabeth’s struggles with her health plagued his thoughts.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m doing okay. Gunnar and Eboni are taking great care of me.”
Gideon blinked. “Eboni? Eboni Danielson? Really?” He remembered Gunnar had gotten on that Greyhound bus years ago right after he’d graduated high school, leaving Eboni, his high school sweetheart and professed love of his life, behind to pursue his mixed martial arts fighting dream. “Are they—”
“Together…for now.” The lightness that filled his mother’s voice became heavy by the end of her statement.
At least Gunnar had someone by his side. After this game, Gideon would be rushing back home to take care of his mother. He’d learned from her to put family first.
“I’m glad he’s there for you. Right after the Super Bowl, I’ll come home to be with you all when you have your surgery.”
“Oh, darling, won’t you have press to do and have sponsors to please?”
“Come on. You don’t think I’ll do any of that with you having heart surgery. Hell—”
Queen Elizabeth, as her friends so dubbed her, cleared her throat.
Gideon stood up straighter. He’d forgotten to keep his locker-room talk segregated to his teammates. “Excuse me. I mean, I’m fighting staying here instead of coming home now.”
“Only playing in the Super Bowl has been your dream since I put a football in your tiny hands. Do you remember that?”
Remember it? He still kept that same dirty, deflated, misshapen football in his home. To tease his mother, he said, “I barely remember that thing.”
“Again, you are so cute.” Queen Elizabeth laughed a little but completed the light expression with a slight cough.
An uncomfortable ripple slithered over his gut and up to his heart, where it constricted it from pumping for a hot second. He couldn’t let her feel his worry. He continued smiling to maintain the lightness in his tone.
“Some new magazines came into the salon,” she said with a playful lilt to her tone.
Gideon heard the joy in his mother’s voice. He ran his hand over his head, knowing she would bring up some aspect of his personal life as only the tabloids could capture. “Really? That’s interesting.”
“It sure is.” Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“Whatever you do, don’t say it.” Gideon shook his head.
“Say what?”
“America’s couple.” Gideon bristled at the moniker the media had dubbed his brief relationship with actress Hilary Cox. He paced the floor, waiting for his mother’s next statement.
“I must admit, you and that little blonde actress are cute together. Matching hair, both with blue eyes and great smiles. Bet you don’t mind that I put braces on you when you were younger, huh?”
Gideon laughed, but he recalled those years. Girls hadn’t given him a second look. He’d fought wannabe bullies every day on top of that. He hadn’t needed Gunnar’s help to win his fights back then. Gideon could be accommodating, but couldn’t be called a pushover…well, except when it came to his mother.
“I wish you wouldn’t read that trash. They’re all full of lies.” He moved closer to the shower area to get farther away from the noise.
“It’s the only way I can find out about your private life. You talk to me every day but never share anything about the special women in your life. I’m your mother. You should tell me everything.”
Gideon imagined that his mother stood in front of him, wagging her finger at him with its impeccable manicure and, of course, the nail painted fire-engine red. “Mom, I have to keep some things from you. I’m not a boy anymore.”
Elizabeth made a disapproving noise from her throat. “I know. You and Gunnar are so quick to tell me that.” She paused a moment before barreling on with their conversation. “Will you be bringing Hilary home with you? I would love to meet her.”
Gideon swallowed before he answered. “We broke up.”