Chapter Two
JJ
My head is still spinning after I leave the store.
I grabbed some hooks to hang a few things for my mom, along with some glossy white paint to do touch-ups, and had the most surreal meet-cute.
That sort of thing never happens to me, at least not organically.
It’s always premeditated, so I end up not being able to trust the person.
I twist the bit of metal, putting some muscle behind it to get it to seat into the wall properly, and chuckle to myself picturing her feral expression when I put my hand on her window.
The Sharpie was fresh enough that there’s a chance my number is still on her car window.
I doubt she recognized me, if so, and she posts the number, then I’m definitely going to have to change it again.
I swear, the fans pay to find out what my cell number is and end up giving it to a ton of people when they end up with the right digits.
The calls are always relentless, non-stop harassment, so I change my number frequently and screen each caller I’m not familiar with.
“You should come over and pay me attention.” Fiona, my mom’s neighbor, winks as she says it. She’s lying next to the pool, book open and spread across her lap. She watches as I hang the plant, then move to screw in the next hook.
I offer her a smile in return, “Can’t. I’m working hard over here.”
“Mmhm,” She traces her stare from top to bottom, taking me in slowly. She’s making it more than clear she wants me naked and doesn’t care she’s friends with my mother. If it were up to her, we’d be sans clothes while in the pool, right now, I’m sure.
I truly am flattered, and if I didn’t already have another woman on my mind, I might flirt a bit with Fi. I have a type, and hardware-store-chick, no, hardware-store-WOMAN, is exactly mine.
Older than me.
Knows what she wants.
Is up front, regardless of my star status.
Christ, she was sexy… and definitely not a chick, but all woman.
“Oh, that looks great. Thanks, honey!” Mom smiles and takes a seat on the lounge next to Fiona. She hands her a drink with an umbrella in it, then relaxes back and sips from her glass.
“Hey, Mom, do you believe in fate?” I casually inquire as I step back to admire my handiwork and move to the next hook. I mean, I think I know her answer already since she reads fiction books like it’s her full-time job, but I still ask.
She raises an eyebrow as Fiona closes her book and sits up, intrigued. “Are we getting philosophical now? What’s on your mind?”
I lean against the deck, crossing my arms, appearing nonchalant as I continue, “I met this woman at the store today. She was...Different. Made me stop and think, you know?”
Mom listens intently, sipping her drink and nodding for me to go on.
“I can't seem to shake off our meeting, even if it was shorter than I’d have liked.”
“I think if it was meant to be, you’ll run into her again at some point. You know me and fairytales. Besides, you had your number scribbled across your palm, easy enough for me to read without my glasses, so no doubt she didn’t miss it either.”
A chuckle escapes me at being called out.
Rather than try to deny it, I nod and finish hanging the last hook.
After, I join them by the pool on a lounge chair.
The sun casts a warm glow over the backyard, creating a serene atmosphere.
Fiona starts chatting about the upcoming neighborhood barbecue, but my mind keeps drifting back to the woman at the store.
Will she remember me? Does she even care? I shake my head, realizing how ridiculous I sound. It was a chance meeting, nothing more.
As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the backyard, I excuse myself from the gossiping women discussing the neighbor’s latest renovation disaster.
I grab my phone, scrolling through my call log, and the thought crosses my mind of calling the big orange store and asking if I can have their security feed of myself.
It’d have her in it, and it may be my link to figuring out who she is.
No, that’s crazy thinking. Right? Or, is it just a matter of my privacy and keeping my whereabouts to myself.
A beat later, I’m Googling the store number and asking to speak to the manager.
My cell rings as I’m climbing out of the pool.
I grab it, hitting accept when my buddy and old college teammate’s name flashes across the screen.
“What’s up, Owens?” I greet, toweling off my face and then move to my shoulders and finally my abs.
It’s hot enough outside if I sit on the lounge chair for a few minutes, my legs will dry on their own.
“There’s a rumor going around you’re retiring.” He says as soon as I switch to speakerphone.
Leaning back on the lounger, I sigh and grab for my bottled water. “People like to talk,” I say as a noncommittal reply. Am I retiring? Who the hell knows. I haven’t made up my mind yet.
“And,” he fishes.
“I’m getting older by the league's standards, you know how it is.”
“Forget that nonsense, man. This is our time, and our generation is proving to stay in the business for longer than the past has.”
“Yeah, I agree with you. I’m just trying to figure out if it’s worth it getting out when I’m still mostly intact and have a lot left in me to concentrate elsewhere, or if I stay in the game and ride it out until I’m leaving on a stretcher.
I’m not gonna lie, the stretcher idea I used to preach about no longer holds the same appeal the way it used to. ”
He chuckles. “Those twenty-year-old knees and shoulders are a hell of a lot different than the thirty-five-year-old knees and shoulders, for sure. Pain hits a little differently now than when it used to,” he agrees.
I rub my hand over my face, the reality that much clearer with this call. Each day that passes seems to bring the probability of this being my last year up. “What about you? Given it any thought to retire, stay home with the wife and kids?”
He’s been married to Kadence since we were all in college together, and they have a houseful of kids.
I wish I had the love he does in his family.
Don’t get me wrong, I have my mom and other family members, but a wife who can handle the lifestyle?
It’s an entirely different level, one many of us in professional sports never seem to attain successfully.
If I had someone waiting for me at home each night, and being my biggest supporter, I may look at retiring a little differently because my success wouldn’t only be about me, but for her as well.
“I’m thinking five more years,” he admits, and I let loose a low whistle, making him laugh.
“I know, I know. I have several college tuitions to think about, though, and when I retire, I don’t want to have to worry about taking other jobs.
Commercials, social media influencing, reality TV presence, I want all of it gone.
I’m going to pack my family up, build another big house out on the ranch in Alabama, and bring us all home-home.
I want all the other noise to go away so I can live my retirement out in peace, surrounded by the people I love. ”
“Damn, man. You have me over here feeling foolish with no long-term plan in mind. After hearing that, I need to seriously dive deep and figure out what I want in my life after football.”
“A woman?”
I’m nodding even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, definitely a woman. A wife. I want the forever kind of love you got lucky with.”
“I am lucky, bro. You will be too. Women have always loved your ass.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but I’m not really feeling it.
Sure, women think I’m hot and want to fuck me, but none have wanted to settle down with me.
At least not for the right reasons. It’s hard to figure out who to trust when you have money in the bank and your face is splashed everywhere.
“How are things with Kadence and the kids?”
“Great. My kids are assholes, but at the same time, they are the best thing in my life. They’re always testing boundaries and making me proud in the same breath.
Having kids is weird, especially when they get older and become their own person.
Kadence is busy running her bookstore. It’s been doing so well that she opened up two more locations.
Still as beautiful as ever, drives me wild for her. ”
He's always been that way about her, all the way from the moment they met. I wonder if that’s how true love happens?
It hits you, and it just sticks out of nowhere?
If so…Well, the only woman who has had any sort of lasting effect on me is my angry hardware store woman.
I’ve got the tape now; the store manager came through and gave it to me when I spouted off about violating my privacy rights.
I could find her, maybe. Or at least figure out her name.
Hopefully.
“Hey, Owens, I’ll call you back. I have something to take care of.”
“Does it have to do with a woman?”
“Don’t important things always involve a woman?”
His laugh is low, but I still catch it. “Hell yes. Go get your woman, and good luck.”