Read Online Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game by Katie Ashley - Free Book Online

look, I sighed.
“Really, I’m fine.”
    “Umm, hmm,” she harrumphed. She continued eyeing me
over her shoulder as she snapped on the antique mixer. Its archaic
hum echoed through the kitchen. “You still runnin’ from your
emotions, Noah?”
    Grammy was another one who could always see through
my bullshit. “I’m not running from my emotions.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yeah.”
    Grammy pointed her chocolaty spoon at me. “Don’t say
‘yeah’, young man. You sound completely common!” Her worst fear was
for me to sound vulgar or common. The poor woman would have
probably had a heart attack if she’d heard the way I talked
sometimes.
    “Yes ma’am,” I replied.
    I eyed the clock over the sink. “I’ve got to be at
the funeral home at six. You think I could get ready here?”
    “Of course, sugah. You go right on upstairs and get
ready. I’ll just be fixin’ you somethin’ to eat while you’re
getting ready.”
    I grinned. I could always count on Grammy.
“Okay.”
    After heading up the familiar staircase, I went into
my old bedroom. Grammy had basically kept it the same way I’d left
it. Mom had bought us all new furniture—a symbolic gesture for our
fresh start at the new house. I still kept a few pants and shirts
in the closet.
    I took a quick shower and then put on a pair of black
dress pants and black shirt. I’d talked to the guys, and we’d all
decided to wear black pants, black shirts, and a silver ties. Yeah,
we sounded like a bunch of silly girls coordinating what to wear,
but at the same time, we wanted to show our unity—the same way the
football team was all going to wear their jerseys in honor of Jake
being a four year letterman.
    Grammy was just taking up the fried chicken—my
all-time favorite—when I came back into the kitchen. She’d fixed
all my favorites vegetables too with green beans and creamed
potatoes. Since I wanted to enjoy my meal, I knew I needed to
mention the unmentionable.
    When she and I sat down at the table, I held up a
hand. “Can we not talk about Jake anymore?”
    “Sure honey.”
    Relief momentarily flooded me as I took a giant bite
of chicken. My elevated mood was only short lived when Grammy went
for the throat with another question. “So, whatcha think about
Greg?”
    I kept my eyes firmly on my plate. Greg was my mom’s
new boyfriend. Well, he wasn’t actually new. They’d been dating for
almost a year—she’d waited several months before she sprang him on
me. Her excuse was she wanted to make sure they were serious first,
but I didn’t buy it. He was an anesthesiologist at the hospital. In
all honesty, he was one of the few boyfriends Mom had had in the
almost eighteen years since my dad. I guess the old Sperm Donor had
left a bad taste in her mouth for quite a while when it came to men
and dating.
    “Didn’t you hear me, Noah?”
    I fought the urge to snap at Grammy. The last thing I
wanted to do before Jake’s visitation was to talk about my mom’s
boyfriend. “Yes, I heard you.”
    “And?”
    “He’s fine,” I grumbled.
    Grammy harrumphed. “By the way you’re actin’, you’d
think your mama was datin’ the devil himself. Greg seems like a
pretty nice fella.”
    “Yeah, he’s a real peach.” I glanced up from
cornbread to see Grammy giving me the stare down. I sighed. “I
don’t know what you want me to say. I’ve probably been with Greg
six or seven times since Mom introduced us at Christmas. Whenever
I’ve been with him, he seems nice. Okay?”
    She responded by tapping her fork on her plate. “What
if they were serious?”
    I furrowed my brows. “Serious?” I pondered. “You mean
like marriage serious?”
    “Yeah, that kinda serious.”
    Suddenly, Grammy’s usually mouth-watering chicken
wedged in my throat, and I had to take a long gulp of iced tea not
to choke. The thought of my mom getting married to Greg or anyone
else for that matter wigged me out completely. It’d always been
just the two of us against the