All in on You

Chapter Thirty-Two

There's only so many times I can say no to my family without feeling like a terrible daughter and sister.

The first time they asked, I got off easy. The Saints were on a road trip, so you can't fault me for them not being available.

Even the second time wasn't so bad. The team was home in Toronto, but they were practicing that Sunday.

But things got trickier when my brother would ask when we both knew that the Saints were home and had an off day.

"I... I don't know," I had told Braden one Sunday afternoon at my parents' after a late lunch.

"Why not?" He wasn't giving up easily. He never had.

"Because I work with them. Having some of them over at my house to meet my family isn't considered professional."

Yeah, I couldn't get through that sentence without cringing. All my dad and brother wanted to do was host Angelo at our house for an afternoon. This is when I decide to play by the rules?

"But we've already met them. At the outdoor skate. So now we'll just be hanging out more."

Despite the soundness of my brother's logic, the eagerness in his tone made him sound much younger than his eighteen years.

"Come on, Harlow," my dad had said. He typically wasn't that serious with me. We joked a lot, so when he was serious, he was Serious. "This would mean a lot to him."

Ah, there it is. It'd mean a lot to you, too, Dad, lifelong Saints fan that you are.

Fine. So that's how I found myself promising my family that if there came a time when it worked for everyone, I'd ask Angelo if he was available, but that I couldn't guarantee he'd be down for it.

Turns out, Angelo Bradford was down for it. I couldn't even talk him out of it. Trust me, I tried. Apparently, spending time with the people who raised me in the house I grew up in was an intriguing offer. Honestly, if the roles were reversed, I'd be gung-ho on the idea of meeting his family and seeing his childhood home as well.

On Friday, during his media availability, the head coach made the mistake of letting the reporters know that the Saints were cancelling their Sunday practice, given how close they were to the playoffs. Indeed, this was the last weekend of the regular season, and the Saints only had a few games to go. To boot, the last two games were back-to-back—which is uncommon enough to be tough on the players—so the coach decided an off day was needed.

I say that the head coach made a mistake by telling the reporters because they publicized this schedule change on social media. That's how Braden found out.

My brother and I were cut from the same logical cloth, so I knew his ask was coming even before my phone lit up with his number.

It was an off day, so Angelo wasn't busy, and with the playoffs so close, he wouldn't get the chance again because the team needed to keep their eye on the prize once those games started. Those were Braden's solid arguments. I loved how confident he was that the Saints would indeed play in the post-season, even though that couldn't be confirmed until their second-to-last game on Tuesday. Bless him. May we all believe in ourselves the way Braden Marchesa believes in the Toronto Saints.

Good people keep promises, but smart people do things on their terms. So, I did my part in inviting Angelo over, but I respected my anxieties about releasing my family on him for a few hours.

That meant I did two things. First, I invited Keith as well, which thrilled my dad and brother. My motive was selfish, though. I needed a buffer for the current that flows between Angelo and I whenever we're together and inviting multiple players—even just two—warded off any outside concerns that Angelo and I had an extra special relationship. The second thing I did was mention my plans casually to Adam on Friday afternoon. The balance was delicate. If I flat-out asked for permission, I was signalling that I knew that what I was doing was wrong but wanted a concession. But if I didn't say anything, and someone found out—because I wouldn't put it past Keith to let it slip—that would make me look even more guilty.