Chapter 11 #2
I groaned aloud this time. “I should have known someone was watching. Whit can’t be here. I’m stepping in for him. Simple as that.”
“I see.” Coach Mayfield nodded. “She always was a sweet gal. I remember her coming to practice sometimes, waiting for Whit to take her home. How is she?”
“She’s okay,” I replied. “Came home to have surgery on her back in Roanoke, though.”
“Oof. From that wreck she had when you guys were teens? It was bad. Does she have anyone to tend to her?”
I sat straighter. “Yeah. I’ll be helping her as much as she’ll let me.” I’d self-nominated, but Coach Mayfield didn’t have to know that.
“Mmm…Isn’t it funny how sometimes the past collides with the present? I’m sure Whit is grateful you’re here for her when he can’t be. His stats this season are impressive, especially since he’s been at this a while.”
I tipped my beer to him in agreement. “Yeah, he’s doing great.
” I took my last drink. The small talk was beginning to be too much, and after a moment of silence, I threw my wrappers and used napkins back into my burger basket, unwilling to finish the few bites I had left.
I stood, primed to escape quickly with a goodbye, when I felt the old man’s hand on my arm, steadying me.
“I know you feel some way about what happened way back when, Bram. Your injury in college and all that. Just know that when the scouts came to see you and Whit during your senior year in high school, they told me you had what it took to make it. Life throws us some awful punches. You’ve dealt with them better than anyone I’ve ever met. ”
I looked my old coach in the eye, searching for any sign of lies on his face.
But I saw nothing. Coach Mayfield was an honest man, and I trusted him.
If his words were true, I might have earned that scholarship.
Maybe it wasn’t given to me because of money.
It wouldn’t be the first time my father had manipulated a situation to his advantage.
I shook myself out of my daze.
“Thanks, Coach,” I replied. “That helps to hear.” I stuck my hand out, and he shook it.
“I’m not pressuring you, but think about the head coach position.
There is no one I would trust more than you to take over the program.
Those boys could use you.” A small smile appeared on his lips.
“Stop by the field one day and watch them in action. It’s always open to you.
And take care of Whit’s sister, son. And maybe let her take care of you. You deserve that.”
I drove around a little longer, thinking and reflecting on the few things Coach Mayfield said and my relationship with the sport that had defined my life.
What would it feel like if I had made it to the pros like Whit?
How would that have changed me? Would I be less bitter? Or would I be much less humble?
No matter what, one thing remained true: I would still think about the woman waiting for me.
I was used to dealing with everything on my own, but I should have trusted her and shared my thoughts with her.
I wanted to talk everything over with her.
My father’s deceit, my mother’s alcoholism, Melanie’s presence in my life.
What football meant to me, how I felt when it was ripped away. How I let that passion die.
Yet I couldn’t dump my worries on her. She didn’t deserve my problems. She needed to worry about herself, and I would do everything to ensure she was taken care of.
She was already doing me a huge favor with the fake marriage.
For both our sakes, I would stay as emotionally distant as possible. I couldn’t afford to hurt her again.
With that in mind, I turned the truck toward the house with a new resolve in my heart to keep my distance. I was sure I could switch off the longing and the anxiety I had with every moment in her presence.
Think of Whit. Think of Whit…
I walked in the back door to an eager Lakey, her tail swinging and tongue wagging. “Hey, my girl,” I said, petting her. I set my things on her kennel, just as I did daily, and pulled out a bone I’d bought for her. She took it with a whine and scampered off, making me smile.
Something delicious had been cooked by the smell of it. Maybe soup? My stomach growled. I’d only eaten half my meal at the bar. I turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped in my tracks.
The breakfast table had been set for two. A tall taper candle had burned halfway down, but the flame was extinguished. Where had she even found a candle? A glance at the kitchen counter revealed a cast-iron skillet covered with a cloth, and beside it, a frosted cake with vanilla icing.
She’d wanted to do something special, and I had taken the opportunity from her.
“Julianna?” I called from the middle of the kitchen, hands at my sides.
She entered in a few moments.
“Hey,” she said, leaning slightly against the wide wooden doorframe. There was no smile on her face, but she wasn’t scowling either. Neutral. Unaffected.
But I knew her better than that. Julianna could do many things, but neutral emotions weren’t one of them.
“You did all this?” I asked, not clarifying or indicating what it was. We both knew.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Julianna…”
“It’s okay.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “I wanted to do something to thank you for letting me stay here. I didn’t realize you had plans already. But the chili is in the pot in the oven, if you still want some.”
“Grams’ chili?” I asked, knowing the answer was yes. That’s why the aroma felt like a warm hug.
She nodded affirmatively, looking me in the eye without flinching.
“That is…that’s so thoughtful of you,” I stuttered. “I’d love some. Have you eaten?”
“I ate a bit ago in the living room.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder toward said room. “It’s early, but I think I’m going upstairs to shower and sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Of course,” I said, though my heart dropped into my stomach.
She nodded, as if reaffirming her choice to herself, and turned to leave. Every fiber of me yearned to run after her. If she’d let me touch her, I could try to fix this. But all the reminders of who I was, how I told Whit I’d behave, and what I needed to avoid stopped me.
I took a bowl of chili to the living room.
It transported me back to Grams’ small kitchen table.
A younger Julianna sat across from me, reading her book until Grams made her put it down and finish her food.
I remember baiting her by hitting her leg with my foot.
Her head would shoot up, and she’d glare daggers at me.
Then I’d wink, and she’d smile and blush.
Whit would not notice, and Grams pretended not to. The memory ached in my bones.
The shower was running upstairs, and when it stopped and the door creaked open, I jumped to my feet. I ran to the edge of the stairs, heart racing.
“Julianna,” I called. I couldn’t see her in the hall, but I heard her footsteps stop.
“Yes?” Her voice was small.
“Take my bed again, for your back. Please.”
Her feet shuffled, the hardwood creaking. “Bram, the guest room is fine.”
“Take my bed, or I’ll come up there and throw you into it.”
My pulse beat in my ears, and I realized what I’d said and how it sounded. Yet I let the innuendo hang in the air between us.
“Okay, okay. No need for violence,” she replied sarcastically, although her usual banter tone was subdued.
Satisfied, I went to wash my dishes and let Lakey out in the yard for a minute before deciding it was best for me to go to sleep as well. I turned off all the lights and made sure the doors were locked.
At the top of the stairs, my bedroom door was wide open. Julianna was sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking through some papers with an open laptop next to her.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door wider .
Her surprised face looked up, and then her eyes narrowed.
I saw what she was holding—her little black box.
“Why do you have these?” she whispered, trembling.
My stomach churned, embarrassment washing over me. I knew why she was angry. I had no right to own what she held. Heat crept up my neck for the first time in a long time.
“Julianna, I can explain?—”
“These were my private thoughts,” she interrupted, her voice cracking. “Things I wrote in my bedroom, alone.” She waved the papers in the air. “Why do you have these? How?”
Part of me wanted to ask why she was going through my bedroom drawers, but I refrained. I didn’t care if she went through every drawer I owned or how many mementos she found of hers in my space.
“I found that box when I was remodeling Grams’ house. I had to take up the old flooring, and it was under the floorboards in the closet. The pages were in the box.”
“I don’t even remember putting the box in the closet. I thought I’d destroyed all of it at some point. I’m sure you read them,” she snipped, her face flushed.
“Yes, I did,” I replied honestly, keeping my tone somber.
She closed her eyes.
I sat on the edge of the bed. I reached over and removed the papers from her hands. Folding them over, I put them in the box and shut the lid. She put her head in her hands.
“This is way worse than me watching you change in high school,” she said from behind her fingers. “These were my most private thoughts about you. I even talked about?— ”
“How we were perfect soulmates?” I interrupted, smiling, trying to catch her eye between her trembling fingers. “How you watched my ass as I played ball out in the driveway with Whit? You did write about wearing my football jersey while I took your virginity and how you wanted me to?— ”
“Oh my God! Please stop!” She scrambled over and jerked the box out of my hands.
I tried hard not to chuckle. “Julianna. That’s from fifteen years ago. We were kids. We’re adults now. It doesn’t bother me that you felt those things about me then, not at all.” I didn’t take my eyes off her face, even though she wouldn’t look at me. She clenched the black box to her chest.
“But it was wrong for me to keep them and not destroy them or send them to you, so I’m sorry for that,” I continued.“Forgive me, please.” I placed my hand on her bent knee. She looked down at it. My heart skipped a beat as her eyes lifted to meet mine.
“I was fanciful back then,” she whispered. “I’m still in love with the idea of love, but I’m not as na?ve now.”
You’re perfect now. The thought ran through my head unbidden. And not saying it to her was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
“No one is,” I said. “I am sorry, sweets.” I gestured toward the box with my head. “I thought about giving them to Whit. That was the alternative I was working with here.”
“Oh my Godddd!” She fell over onto the bed. “If that was the alternative, then thank you a million times over. You should have destroyed them.”
I would have lit myself on fire before I destroyed those words, but I kept that thought to myself, as well.
“That was a huge ego boost for me, you know. There’s no way I was getting rid of them,” I teased. I noticed her open laptop and some paragraphs on the screen.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to it. She snapped the lid closed quickly.
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing. Do you still write? Like you did in high school? ”
She bit her lip. She was still flushed, so much so that I could feel the heat radiating from her.
“Yes. Sort of. Sometimes.”
“That’s amazing. You were always so good at it.”
“It…it calms me. Redirects my thoughts when things get overwhelming.”
“Today was overwhelming for you, I’m sure.” I thought about the appointment, the PA. I had missed the chili and the dinner setup. Then she’d found the letters.
I stood. “I’d love to hear about it. Maybe read some to me, someday?”
She flashed a half smile. “No way. It’ll be in a fully published form if you ever see it.”
“Oh, come on. You were going to let me take your virginity, but you won’t let me read your stories?”
She gasped and threw a pillow at my head. I caught it before it hit me.
“Uncalled for!” She was laughing with me, her rich tone echoing off the walls.
“I couldn’t help it,” I chuckled, tossing the pillow back to her.
“I’ll try to find it in me to forgive you.” She clutched the pillow to her chest. Lakey jumped up on the bed. “I’ll keep your dog as repayment.”
“She’s a bed hog anyway, take her. I’m heading out. Can I use this bathroom in the morning to get ready? I’ll keep it proper.”
She tucked the box behind her back.
“Yeah, of course. Just wake me up, and I’ll leave you to it.”
“No, you can sleep. As long as you’re comfortable with me coming in here.”
She smiled sweetly then, her cheeks still bright pink. “Of course, it’s fine,” she said, her grin more playful than before.
“Sleep well, sweets.” I left quickly before I made a move on her that I could not take back. I’d wanted to kiss her all day, and I knew any further reflection on what I had memorized in those pages would be my undoing.
Diverse, innumerable mixed signals bounced in my mind. We had kissed but never spoken of it again. We hadn’t declared feelings of any kind, but we were getting married.
We were a complicated puzzle of contradictions, and I wondered how this could possibly play out without one or both of us getting hurt.