Chapter 7 – Beau
BEAU
Stella
OMG. I don’t know how you pulled this off but THANK YOU!
I grin down at my phone, the picture of her with the giant cheeseburger I DoorDashed to her dorm filling up my screen. I even got the delivery driver to put a Christmas bow on top.
Me
Merry Christmas, Stella. I hope you have a great holiday break.
Stella
I’ll text you when we get to the cabin. Have a safe flight! Don’t talk to any cute girls in the airport. They’re probably crazy and will ramble on about their ex-boyfriends.
Me
The only thing I’m going to be doing in the airport is sleeping. Someone kept me up last night.
Stella
We’re both heading home for the break. Me to a family that probably can’t wait to tell me all the reasons our team didn’t make it to a bowl game this year, and Stella to hers, with Felix. She said we could still talk, but she’s sidestepped any attempt I’ve made to make plans to see each other.
I slide my phone into my pocket as I walk out of the airport. The Arizona heat hits me, and I inhale. I missed this. It was snowing in Colorado this morning and barely above freezing. A few weeks of sun and warm weather is going to be nice.
My mom’s car is parked along the curb and my dad stands at the back next to the popped trunk.
“I see him,” my mom says, loud enough her voice carries up the busy sidewalk. I lift a hand in a wave and then start for them.
Dad meets me halfway and pulls me into a bear hug. “There he is.”
“Hey, Dad.”
He lets go and takes a long look at me. “You look like you shrunk in the three weeks since I’ve seen you, kid. I hope you didn’t stop working out just because the season is over. This is when you need to make gains.”
I bite back a retort. Mom comes over and hugs me, holding on a little longer than Dad did. She pulls back almost reluctantly. “We better get you home. Everyone is waiting to see you.”
“Who?”
“Your aunts and uncles, Grandpa John, everyone.”
“They’re already at the house?”
“Of course.” Dad’s mouth pulls into a broad smile.
The fifteen-minute drive to my parents’ house passes too quickly. Cars line the driveway and curb, and as soon as I step out of the car, I can hear voices and laughter in the backyard.
“Heads up,” someone yells.
I drop my bag in time to catch the football sailing toward the car.
“Touchdown!” Uncle Terry’s arms are raised over his head, and he wears that same broad smile my dad does.
“Hey, Uncle T.”
He closes the distance between us, hugs me, lifting me off the ground and shaking me. Uncle Terry is six foot five and as wide as a doorway. He still looks like the defensive tackle he once was.
“They feeding you in Colorado, boy?”
“Yeah.” I catch my breath as he sets me back down. “They’re definitely feeding me. Maybe you could miss a meal or two.” I poke at his stomach, which is hard and muscular, but it still eggs him on. Uncle Terry gives me the same shit my dad does, but it’s easier to take from him for some reason.
He takes the football still clutched to my side and extends it, using it to point at me. “You’ll wish you had a little more meat on your bones when I’m taking you to the ground.”
“Let him at least put his stuff away.” Mom takes the football from him. “Are the burgers and steaks done?”
“Working on it.” Uncle Terry flashes another smile. “About five more minutes.”
Mom nods and barks out orders like a drill sergeant. “Lunch, cleanup, then football.”
“Yes, dear.” Dad kisses her on the cheek.
I get a few minutes to myself while I take my bags to my old bedroom. My gaze falls over the bookcase filled with paperbacks and football trophies. I grab the worn football from my desk and sit on the end of my bed, then fall back and stare up at the ceiling.
Letting out a long breath, I fight to suppress the feelings of resentment. My family is all here to welcome me home. They’re proud of me, I know that. But what I really want is a few weeks where I don’t have to think about football at all.
After lunch, where I’m peppered with questions about the season and when practices start again, followed by cleanup, and a game of football, everyone finally leaves.
Dad falls asleep in the recliner and Mom heads out to grocery shop.
I take my phone outside. Stella sent a couple of texts during the day.
She and Holly were going to their family’s cabin for the weekend, and from the selfie she sent, snow in the background, I’d say they made it.
Me
Brrr. That looks cold.
Stella
I love the snow!
Me
Me too, but I’ve missed the sun and warm weather. Done any skiing yet?
Stella
No. Hopefully tomorrow. Are you going to Show Low?
Instead of texting again, I call.
“Hey,” she answers on the second ring. The background is noisy, and I can barely hear her next words. “One second. I’m moving somewhere quieter.”
“If you guys are out somewhere, you can call me later.”
“No,” she says, “we aren’t out. My brother and his teammates had the same idea that Holly and I did.”
“They’re at the cabin?”
“Yep.”
“I thought Felix was house-sitting.”
“So did I. I guess he went there first and is planning to go back in a few days to check on things.”
A knot forms in my stomach and I’m quiet.
“Is it weird?” she asks, reading my mind.
It shouldn’t be. I’ve known that Felix was her brother all along, and it isn’t like us talking when he’s nearby is any better or worse than when he isn’t, but it still has unease prickling up my spine.
“It’s weird. I know. It is for me too,” she says, before I find my nerve to say as much. Her voice sounds cheerier when she asks, “How’s home?”
“Good. The whole fam came over for lunch.”
“I love how close you are with your extended family. Both of my parents are only children, so we don’t have any cousins.”
“Yeah, they’re great.”
“You sound tired. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
I chuckle. “I was hoping for a break from football, but it’s all they want to talk about and do. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I know they’re being supportive, and I feel like a dick for it annoying me.”
“You aren’t a dick.”
I don’t feel as confident in that assessment.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks. “You didn’t answer my question about Show Low. When do you leave?”
“That got postponed until next weekend, but a few high school buddies are going out tonight. I think I might stop by for a bit.”
“That sounds fun.”
“What about you?”
“I think we’re staying at the cabin. The guys stocked the fridge with beer and there’s enough liquor for the entire neighborhood. Wish you could come.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I’m going to talk to him over break. Felix, I mean.”
“Stell,” I start.
“I know, I know. He hates you, yadda, yadda. But are you sure? Maybe he just hates your team.”
I stay silent. I wish that were the case, but know it isn’t.
“This is silly. I like you, you like me, you both play football, who cares?” I can practically see her brown eyes rolling and her hand waving in the air as she talks. “I’m going to tell him right now.”
She moves closer to the noise again.
“Wait, Stell. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Do you want to see me over break?”
“Of course, I do, but maybe wait until the entire team isn’t around.” I chuckle loose the knot in my chest.
“Oh, right. Good call.” She huffs. “It’s frustrating, knowing you’re so close and going to parties with girls that aren’t me.”
“You’re sexy when you’re jealous.”
She growls.
“Well, I’d invite you here, but tomorrow we’re going to the Cardinals game, and pretty much every day next week is going to be filled with helping my dad build a she-shed for my mom.”
“A she-shed, seriously?”
“Oh yeah, she said she wants a place she can make as girly as she wants and put all her collectibles where they won’t get broken.”
“Your family sounds rowdy.”
“They are.” A rough chuckle escapes. “They’re great though, really.”
“I know. I get that you can be annoyed and still love them. Trust me. That’s not unique to your family.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Of course, I am. Now go get ready and meet up with your friends, then send me drunk texts later.”
“All right. I can do that.” Talking to her, even seeing her face, doesn’t feel like enough anymore. I wish she were here, that I could reach out and touch her. “Thanks, Stella.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Talking to you always makes me feel better. You get me. It’s . . . nice.”
“Right back at ya.”