Driven_589066

“Don’t worry. I will.” There was an awkward pause. “Well…goodnight, Coach Lambert.”

“Goodnight, Catherine. Sleep well.”

Dylan walked into her room to see Mac lounging in her living area, in his skivvies, his feet propped up on the table and a bottle of beer in his hand. The

television was tuned to a decades old pro game on ESPN Classic, and the door that connected their adjoining suites was wide open.

He saluted her with his beer as she passed.

“How nice of you to make yourself at home, Mac.”

Mac chuckled. “Reception’s better in here.”

Snorting at the lie, Dylan removed her coat and draped it over the ottoman before stepping into the bathroom to change.

“Everything alright with the kid?”

“She’s twenty two, Mac. Hardly a ‘kid’.”

“You know what I mean. Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” Dylan replied, walking back into the room in her bra and briefs, causing Mac to choke on his beer.

“Jesus, D! You wanna warn a guy before you do that! You trying to give me a heart attack or something?”

Dylan rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen me in a whole lot less than this.”

“Yeah, but at least I was prepared for it! God!”

Walking over to her suitcase, she pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. “Better?”

Mac looks up at the long, lean, muscled form outlined by the snug clothing. “Not much,” he choked, earning him a swat to the arm.

Dylan eased herself down on the couch next to Mac, propped her feet up, and caged a swig of his beer before handing the bottle back. “Now, television

reception aside, why are you darkening my doorstep at this late hour?”

Mac shrugged. “Just wanted to see how the ki—I mean Ms. Hodges was doing.”

“Couple bruises, a knot on the head, but otherwise, alright. Our little thug was sniffing around again.”

“Oooh,” Mac replied, wincing in sympathy. “Did you call the janitors in to hose off the blood spot you turned her into?”

“Nah. She figured it was in her own best interests to take a hike.”

Mac snickered. “Knew there was a brain in there somewhere. I’m glad to know Hodges is ok.”

Dylan grinned. “Growing on you, is she?”

“She’s alright,” Mac allowed. Putting his beer on the table, he shifted to face her, his expression suddenly serious. “What are you going to do about

Johnson?”

“I’ll deal with him. In my own way.”

“But what about Hodges? I mean, I get the impression that she’s not exactly in the closet. How’s she going to take to this?”

“I’m going to have a talk with her before draft day. Every team’s contracts have the same morality clause. Hers won’t be any different. We’ll deal with it

then.”

“I know you will.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, then, and watched television until they were both yawning. Mac took himself off to his own room, and Dylan slid

beneath the covers, asleep almost as soon as she hit the pillow.

It was a week later, and Hodge was curled up in her blankets, feeling warm and safe and very relaxed. She could smell bacon and eggs and fresh coffee,

and her stomach growled, reminding her how good it was to be home.

She opened her eyes to find the familiar surroundings of her own bedroom, or at least what had been her bedroom before she moved away to college. Now

it was the haven of her oldest brother, who had easily given it up to her for the few weeks she’d be staying. The bedroom she’d remembered had morphed

into that of a typical teenage boy, a little messy, and strewn with posters of the latest rock stars and bikini clad sex kittens. But it was still home, and that

was all that mattered.

Outside, she could hear the boisterous shouts of her brothers as they pursued their favorite Saturday morning pastime—basketball.

Rolling out of bed, she moved to the window and lifted it, sticking her head out to confirm that there was a mean game of Horse going on below her.

“Morning guys.”

“Hey Kitty Cat!” Her father stopped in mid shot to greet her.

She smiled; the only person on the planet who could get away with that nickname was her dad.

Her bothers all joined in yelling at her, encouraging her to come down and play ball with them.

“In a little bit. I need coffee.”

“You shouldn’t drink coffee, big sister, it’ll stunt your growth.” her oldest brother, Michael called up as he stole the ball from his father.

“Don’t give up your day job, Mike,” was her droll reply as she closed the window and turned to grab her clothes.

Once dressed, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, drawn on by the savory scents of her mother’s cooking. As soon as she entered the room, her mother

pressed a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“Good morning sweetheart.”

“Morning Mom.”

“Did you sleep well?” the older woman asked as she went back to preparing breakfast for her troop.

“Like a rock,” she replied, taking a long sip of coffee. “Mm. This is good.”

She slid into her seat at the table, and immediately noticed the morning paper, which was opened to the employment page. Her mother had obviously