“I remembered something, something from my soccer days in high school. I haven’t thought of it in a long time. Maybe I blocked it out to some extent. Senior year we went to state. We played a really good team from eastern Kentucky. These girls were good. And they were big and tough. They played to win. Really played to win. I went for the ball against one of them, and I tackled her pretty hard. A slide tackle. But I clipped her leg and knocked her down.”

I wasn’t sure where all of this was going. Or where it was coming from. I knew Amanda had played soccer and softball in high school and was pretty good at both. Good enough to get some scholarship offers from small colleges in both sports, although she passed and went to Indiana University for her degree. I’d seen the photos of her in her various sports uniforms in the basement of her parents’ house.

But I’d never heard this story before.

“Was she hurt?” I asked.

“Not really. More pissed than anything else. She popped right back up and glared at me. Then about fifteen minutes later, I had the ball, and she tackled me. And I mean hard. Harder than I took her down. And it was clearly intentional. It knocked the wind out of me. But she stood over me, taunting me. Calling me every name she could think of.”

“Nice sportsmanlike behavior.”

“It’s competitive during playoff time.”

“Sure.”

“I said Sam looked trapped, and I felt the same when that guy was at the door trying to get in. It took me back to that soccer match. I jumped up when that girl taunted me. I got right in her face and shoved her. Hard. I’d have done more, except my teammates got in the middle. And her teammates held her back. But her tackling me was so unfair, so unwarranted, I just had to do something about it. You know?”

“You were defending yourself. I get it.”

“I figured you would.”

I shifted Henry to my other arm and hip. He kept growing every day, and sometimes he felt like a pile of bricks in my hands. “I don’t blame you for standing up for yourself on the soccer field in high school.”

“And I’m trying not to blame you for Jennifer messaging you that way.”

I almost laughed. Out of confusion. “I didn’t do anything. It just happened.”

“I know. Things just happen sometimes. Things beyond our control to some extent. That’s what I’m saying. I understand that very well.”

“Okay. I get the feeling you’re hinting at something deeper. Are you worried I’m hanging on to bad feelings from when that guy hit on you at work? Is that what you’re wondering?”

“No, I wasn’t really thinking about that. Not directly anyway.”