Fowl Play (Tuft Swallow)

53. Kodi

CHAPTER 53

The next few weeks fly by in a blur of physical therapy, work, cornhole, and amazing sex. I may have been a late bloomer when it comes to the horizontal hokey-pokey, but Brian’s helping me catch up on everything I’ve missed. With the schedule we’re keeping, it’s amazing we have time to fit in anything else.

My knee is getting stronger again, barely; its recovery is too slow for my liking. He says I’m doing great, though, always reminding me that ‘harder or faster isn’t better—better is better.’

Luckily for me, I’ve got the best guy I possibly could on my recovery team.

I’m reminded of how great he is when I wake up to his arms wrapped around me, fingers massaging my breast and plucking at the hardening nipples. I let out a little hum of pleasure and sink my little spoon ass into his thickening big-spoon groin.

He moans. I smirk. Still got it.

Part of me is terrified that I’m going to wake up one morning and it will all have been a dream. I mean, I’m Kodi Gander: sexless–well, not anymore–Ice Queen of Tuft Swallow, and he’s...the sweetest, smartest, sexiest, most amazing guy on the planet.

And he’s my boyfriend. For real this time.

“I need to get ready for work,” I whine, but my heart’s not really in it. He seems to pick up on my insincerity, as he only grinds himself temptingly against the cleft of my ass.

“This is working pretty well for me.”

I smack his hand (playfully) and throw the sheets off our bodies. As I move to stand, he bolts upright. “Careful! Make sure you’re getting up evenly on both feet, balancing–”

“My weight evenly across my hips and my ankles, I know.” I roll my eyes. “I got it Dr. Handsy, okay? We’ve been working on my rehab for four weeks now. I even survived the last match against Robin Springs without so much as a tweak.”

Which had been a hell of a victory. The last three weekends had been win after win for us, and now that I’m back on the field I’m ready for revenge against Spitz Hollow in the championship game.

“Doesn’t mean you’re going to be jumping into action anytime soon. You’re doing great. Don’t ruin it.”

“The only thing that would ruin it is seeing Zeke’s smug face if Spitz Hollow beats us this weekend.”

His hand reaches out and his fingers curl into the curve of my hip. “Don’t even think about that man. Trust me. He isn’t worth you getting hurt over.”

“Speaking from experience?” I look over my shoulder at him. The briefest bit of sadness flits across his face before he meets my eyes.

He scoots closer and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I got off easy, getting over my broken heart. You, on the other hand, have a history of repeat injuries. Don’t let your competitive spirit get the better of you.”

“Yes, Mom.” I carefully stand and throw back the blackout curtains, letting in the late August sunshine. Brian flinches from the light, but I bask in it.

Waking up on the second floor means I can stand naked in front of the window at six am without fear of the morning joggers seeing me. I could get used to this being my new everyday.

Brian kisses me goodbye an hour later, and I walk to work with just my brace and no more horrid crutches, optimistic for once about the week ahead. Today, Dr. Cratchet is interviewing candidates for our new nurse position, and I’m secretly hoping he recommends the Nurse Practitioner I selected to the board for hire. While he doesn’t have final say on whoever we bring on, what with the Clinic being a non-profit entity, the board will likely go with his number one pick. They’ve always done whatever he says in the past: hence why it’s taken this long for me to get any actual help in the office.

Just as I gather my things to clock out and meet Brian at the Easy Swallow for lunch, the sleigh bells above the front door jingle a new arrival.

“Hello?” A tall woman with wavy, brown hair and a round face comes through the door. She’s dressed professionally, in gray slacks and a mint green button-down that highlights the light green sparkle in her eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Maureen Bailey. I’m supposed to have an interview with Dr. Cratchet?”

“Oh! Yes! Right this way.” I smile at my favorite candidate. “I’m so excited you’re here. I was really happy to see your experience at the women’s health clinic in Boston on your resume. We could really use someone like you around here!” I grab my purse and walk around to the door beside the check-in counter to let her in the back, and direct her to Dr. Cratchet’s office. “Sir? Maureen Bailey’s here for her interview.”

“Lovely, lovely…” he says, scrolling on his computer, clearly not paying attention. I walk around to the side of his desk, glimpsing that he has his stock portfolio up on the screen again.

Only this time, the number’s even higher.

I avert my eyes, trying not to pry, even though he doesn’t even notice that I’ve gotten closer. “Dr. Cratchet?”

“What?” He looks up, and his eyes finally focus on me from behind his glasses. “Oh! Miss Gander. Why are you here and not at lunch?”

“Because your interview is here.”

“Ah, Ms. Bailey. Thank you for coming in. Let’s talk about…”

He gets right into the interview, so I nod goodbye and make my escape. When I meet Brian on the sidewalk outside the diner, his appraising look up and down my body is a mixture of pride and hunger that sends shivers down my spine.

“Well you look happy,” he says, holding out his elbow for me to grasp.

I do. “Yep. Maureen came in for her interview just as I was leaving. She’s perfect for the job. I really hope she gets it.”

“It would certainly make your life easier. Maybe she can even take over for the Doc!”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” I’m almost afraid to hope. No matter how detestable he is, Dr. Cratchet seems to be the only qualified physician that the clinic board has been able to keep around this tiny town. “He’s been our town doctor for as long as I can remember. It would be nice to change it up.”

“It seems like a lot of new people have been coming to town lately, myself included.” We’re seated at a booth by the window, and Brian takes a look at the laminated menu. My leg bounces in the seat, and Brian raises his gaze to me. “What’s got you so excited?”

“I’m thinking about practice tomorrow. How I’m going to tackle it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s time to get serious. The championship is this weekend. And it’s going to be at the Spitz-Shein complex again, which means plastic boards and glaring lights.” The hostess drops off tall, red plastic cups full of water for the two of us, and I take a big sip. “We have to come in with a plan.”

“You know, I was thinking about practice too, actually.”

“You were?” I feel a happy flame warm my chest.

Brian’s been accompanying me to practices ever since I hurt my knee again, and having him there cheering me on has been a reminder for me to stay calm. To take it easy, and actually have fun. The team has noticed too, because everybody seems to relax when they see Brian helping me carry the equipment into the park.

Plus, he watches to make sure I don’t re-injure myself. While the first few practices without my crutches were frustrating as he helped me navigate how I should and shouldn’t move while I recover, it’s become almost second nature to incorporate healthier movements now since we’ve been doing PT everyday.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think you need me watching you at practices anymore.”

His words throw cold water all over my happy flame.

“What? But…I thought you were starting to get into it!”

“Get into cornhole?” He snorts, and the sound is like a dagger in my heart. He’s so derisive about it. Like being invested in the game is beneath him. “Sorry, Kodi. I’m into you, and your health, and I’m happy to support you and the rest of the folks on the team, but I mean…the whole ‘small town backyard sports tournament’ really isn’t my thing.”

He reaches across the formica tabletop and grabs hold of my fingers. I start to pull away, but then the waitress comes to take our orders, so I leave my hands where they are. But my frustration builds with every swipe of his thumb against the back of my hand.

I thought Brian wanted to help me. Be there for me. I thought he liked supporting me and my goals.

All I am is sports. That’s my whole life. That’s all I’ve ever been. If I’m the subject of a conversation in town, you better believe my name is accompanied by words like former star pitcher or almost state champion.

But now, the one person who’s supposed to be the most important–my boyfriend–doesn’t even want to watch me play? Doesn’t want anything to do with the ‘whole small town backyard sports tournament’ thing?

The waitress walks away, and he lets go of one of my hands to take a sip of water from the big red plastic cup she just sat down beside him. I tug my other hand out of his grasp.

“I didn’t realize you hated small towns so much,” I mutter.

He coughs, choking a bit on his water. “What? What makes you say that?”

“You just seem so embarrassed by us and our hobbies.”

“Kodi.” He levels a look across the table. “I didn’t say that. I’m not embarrassed by cornhole. I just…” he takes a deep breath. “I think we should both have things we can do outside of each other. For both of our sakes. I don’t want to be the kind of boyfriend that suffocates you.”

Suffocates, he says.

I know how it feels to be suffocated. Feeling like you’re meant for something bigger, something greater, only to have it thrown in your face and dangled out of your reach. Ending up right back where you started.

I clench the cup in my hand, the condensation squeezing out from between the plastic and my fingers and beading up in rivulets around the outline of my grip.

“You don’t suffocate me.”

“That’s good.” He chuckles, sounding relieved.

“Do I suffocate you?”

His eyes widen, and he pushes back into the vinyl of his seat. “What? Why would you think that?”

“It just feels like you’re pulling away right now. Like, I was trying to tell you that I really care about practice tomorrow and wanted to bounce ideas off of you and now you’re saying that you don’t want to be there and have never even liked going to practices or matches–”

“I didn’t say that,” he interrupts me, and anger spikes again. I realize I feel really hot, and my voice has gotten louder. Embarrassment flares in my stomach, and suddenly I’m no longer hungry. I want to yell at him, but a couple of curious faces are peering at us over their plastic menus, and I’m hyper-aware of their suffocating glances. “I just mean that we’ve been spending a ton of time together lately—and I love it, don’t get me wrong. We wake up together, we have lunch together, we go to practice together…”

He drifts off, and I lose my patience waiting for him to spit out his point.

“And you’re what? Getting tired of me?”

“No!” Now his voice is too loud, and the listening eyes around us multiply. He glances around nervously, then leans forward, whispering. “Kodi, I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.”

I cross my arms. “Then why don’t you want to come to practice anymore?”

He sighs. “Do you really want me there?”

“Yes!”

We stare at each other (okay, maybe in my case it’s more of a glare), and I study the hesitation in his face. But his eyes take me in, and apparently he sees what he needs to, because he leans back and takes another deep breath, letting it out on a whoosh.

“Okay then. I’ll be there, baby girl.” He smiles at me, and that little flame inside me that gets going whenever I hear him say those words sparks into a flicker.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Our food arrives, and I dive back into the details of how I want to approach Spitz Hollow’s defeat. He nods along, seeming on the outside to be engaged and like he’s enjoying himself, but in the back of my mind, one word keeps playing on repeat.

Suffocating.