Chapter Twenty-Three
Clay
Ben is waiting for me at the field when I arrive, and he looks as excited as he was yesterday. “Hey, Ben. How’s it going?”
“How’s it going? I’m standing here with you . How do you think it’s going? I still can’t believe you texted.”
I set down the cones I bought at the sports store when I picked up the balls for Chris and Min. “I told you I would.”
“Yeah, but with most people, that doesn’t mean shit.”
“I’m not most people. If I say I’ll do something, then short of an act of God stopping me, it’s going to happen. You look a little tired. Were you out late partying last night?”
“No. My mother had to work, and my little brother got sick. I stayed over so she could get some sleep after she got home.”
“Your mom works nights?”
“Sometimes. She works at a club when they need her.”
“Sounds like your family’s lucky to have you around. Is your brother okay?”
“Yeah. He just had a bug and felt like he was going to puke every time he lay down.”
I eye him more closely. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine once I start running. I always am.”
He reminds me of myself at that age. “In that case, why don’t we hit the track and warm up?”
“You’re running with me?” he asks.
“I’ll start out that way,” I say as we head to the track. “But I’m sure I’ll leave you in my dust.”
He scoffs. “In your dreams.”
Ben and I practice for nearly two hours, working on tracking the ball, speed, and running drills. As I blow the whistle for the last of the footwork drills, he sprints straight toward the first cone. He maneuvers around it, runs toward the second one, and cuts to the right beyond the third.
“That’s it!” I call out as he circles back to the fourth cone.
He cuts right, stopping on a dime when he reaches the cone, then sprints at a ninety-degree angle, simulating a drag route, which is when a receiver runs a few yards downfield, then turns toward center field and runs parallel to the line of scrimmage. His direction changes can use a little work, but they’re strong.
“Finish hard!” I holler as he sprints to the next cone, stops, and cuts around the last one, finishing the drill with a hard sprint. “Great job.”
Ben slows to a walk, his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. “Thanks, man. I know I need to work on changing directions.”
“They’re a little rough, but they’re good. We can do some jab steps and shuffle drills and some other things that’ll help with that.”
His eyes widen. “You’ll run more drills with me?”
“If our schedules align. You still think I’m going to leave you hanging?”
“No, man, but…you’re a pro, and I’m just—”
“I’m going to stop you right there. No negative self-talk. I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like you. Nobody starts out as a pro. It takes hard work and dedication, and you’ve got both. I had personal coaches to whip my ass into shape.” The second the words leave my lips, I regret saying them. This kid doesn’t need a reminder of how much I had or the things he doesn’t. “I needed those coaches, because I didn’t grow up playing on Pee Wee teams and working my way up. I grew up overseas, and struggled to find teams to join.”
“I know. I read all about you and how you grew up living in huts and shit. That must’ve been wild.”
“Yeah, it was, but it didn’t make for an easy path to learn the sport. Listen, I’ve got to run in a minute. I know you’re busy with classes and work, but do you have any free time during the day when you can squeeze in a workout? Or do you want to stick to early mornings?”
We go over our schedules and find a few times when we can get together to train during the day. I have just enough time to get back to my place to shower and plan out my day with Pepper before heading into town to meet her.
“Stop apologizing. I’m glad you had to work this morning,” I say as Pepper and I leave her office, heading for the shops. After noticing a few too many glances at the restaurant the other night and in the sports store yesterday, I decided to try to blend in. I didn’t shave the last two days, and I’m wearing a baseball cap and an old sweatshirt instead of my expensive coat. I don’t want to draw any extra attention while we’re out.
“You needed a break from me already?” Her brow furrows.
“How can you even ask that after the way I ravaged you and burned our breakfast?” I hug her against my side and kiss her temple. “Well, your breakfast. I was busy eating mine.”
“ Clay ,” she says in that adorably innocent and exasperated way she has.
I chuckle. “I meant I was glad you had to work because I had a great time working out with Ben. I miss working with kids, and he’s incredible. He’s got a full ride at UVA, but he’s still working to help his mom make ends meet, and he’s driven to be the best. He’s out there every day pushing himself to be better on the field. We’re going to try to work out more this week.”
“That’s great. You sound excited.”
“I am. I had forgotten how thrilling it was to be on that side of the game.”
“That’s great, but what do you mean by that side ?”
“Before going pro. When the game is your shiny brass ring, and you live and breathe for it. Just being around his enthusiasm and determination is invigorating.”
“Does that mean it’s not that way for you anymore?”
We walk around the corner, and I see the gallery I wanted to take her into. “I still love the game, but it’s complicated. When you go pro, things change. At some point it goes from being all about the game to being about the game and the business of it, with sponsorships and other obligations. But I’m sure that’s probably true of every profession in its own way. Look at how much you do now that you own the company.”
“Yeah. It’s a lot.”
“Well, if you can keep your hands off me long enough, we’ll get your ad done tonight and hopefully find you a receptionist quickly.”
“I’ll try to behave,” she teases.
“Please don’t.” I kiss her as we come to the art gallery. “This is our first stop.” I open the door and follow her in.
“I thought we were trying to figure out hobbies.”
“We are. I’ve got a whole day of ideas planned, but your office has no pictures on the walls. I thought we could look for some.”
“You really do notice every little thing, don’t you?”
“When it comes to you, I do.” As we walk through the gallery, we point out pictures, but I can tell Pepper doesn’t love any of them. “Why is your office naked, when your home is dressed up so pretty?”
“I don’t know. I’ve looked for artwork, but nothing speaks to me. I mean, look at this painting.” She motions to a landscape. “It’s beautiful, but I don’t feel a connection to it. I don’t know where that place is. I didn’t grow up there or have anything meaningful happen there or dream of going there. It’s just a pretty picture.”
Ah , she’s granting me another peek behind her veil. “Most people buy art because it’s pretty, but you want to feel it in your heart. Like you did with the Wall of Love. Why did you feel so connected to that wall?”
“I think because it stands for the one thing that’s important to me.”
“Love?”
“In a broad sense, yes. But more specifically, overcoming boundaries and loving people for who they are first and foremost.”
I remember what she said about dating apps and realize this is the true peek behind her veil. I wonder if the pain she experienced in college did more than turn her against dating athletes, and had also shaped her thoughts about love. Or if her views are driven by what she saw Amber go through when she was growing up with epilepsy. I have a feeling those are just two pieces of a much more complicated picture.
“It would make the world a better place, that’s for sure. What’s special enough to you to be forever memorialized in a painting or picture?”
Her eyes brighten. “That’s easy. My mom’s smile every time I walk into her kitchen, because it always makes me happy, and my dad’s hand, because holding it has always felt safe. The lake near my parents’ house where my dad and I used to sail the boats we built and the lab my dad built me in the loft of the barn. I can still remember what it felt like to sneak out there when I needed an escape. And the Stardust Café, because of all the great memories I have there with friends and family. The creek where Sable and I used to go for walks because she’d play her guitar and tell me all her secrets, which were always way more exciting than mine. I felt really close to her there.” She gazes at the painting like she’s watching a scene unfold within it. “And the tree on the hill by the old church in town.”
“Why that tree?”
“Because while my mom was shopping, my sisters and Axsel and I would run around there and play tag and other silly games.” Her expression warms. “Around that old tree, it didn’t matter if Gracie was too serious, or Sable or Brindle too brash. It was okay for Morgyn to be lost in a dream and Amber to be reading under the tree, being her careful self, and Axsel to be the little yappy boy he was.”
“And you?”
Her gaze softens. “I just remember feeling like I did when we were in Paris. Like I could just be me.”
“You were pretty stressed around your sisters and Axsel when we were there. You were afraid they’d find out about us.”
She lowers her gaze for a second, and as she meets mine, that slightly bashful smile appears. “I wasn’t talking about when I was with them in Paris. I meant when it was just you and me.”
Suddenly my chest feels too small for the emotions I’m keeping trapped there. “Aw, sweetheart.” I draw her into my arms. “That’s how I feel around you. Like I can just be myself, and not who everyone else needs me to be. I want you to feel that way all the time with me.”
“I do, most of the time.” She lowers her voice to a playful whisper. “But you keep bringing out someone in me I didn’t know existed, and that takes some getting used to.”
“My hidden temptress?” I hold her gaze. “I happen to be very fond of that side of you.”
“Me too.”
That feels like a victory. I kiss her and take her hand, heading for the exit. “Come on, Reckless. We need to hit the craft shop before we try out our first potential hobby.”
“Why the craft shop?”
“To get a boatbuilding kit. It may not have been a hobby for you, but it’ll be fun. We can build it together and float it on the lake tomorrow.”
“We didn’t build them from kits,” she says as we hit the sidewalk. “We designed them and built them from scratch, using Styrofoam and other things we had lying around the house. The only things we bought were the motor and batteries, a battery pack with leads, and a few other supplies we didn’t have lying around.”
“Of course you did,” I say with a laugh. “Well, there’s nothing like designing on the fly. Let’s go see what we can come up with.”
Her face lights up. “How about we make it even more fun?”
“And build it naked?” I waggle my brows. “I don’t think we’ll get much building done, but I’m game.”
She laughs. “I’m sure you are. Seeing as you’re ridiculously competitive, I was thinking about making it a competition. We each build a boat and see whose works better.”
“Seeing as I’m ridiculously competitive? You were valedictorian of your graduating class in high school and at UVA. You’re every bit as competitive as I am. You just cloak it well with sweetness.”
“Did you google me?” she asks with shock.
“I might’ve peeked at a thing or two when I was researching places to take you today. I think you might have an edge with this one, my R and D queen.”
“Are you afraid of a little competition, Mr. Perfect?”
“Never.” I haul her against me. “But call me that again, and I might just have to show you who’s boss. And for that, you will be naked.”
“I don’t know if I should be scared or turned on.”
“Given how you loved being at my mercy in Paris, I’d say turned on.”
Heat flares in her eyes. “In that case, whatever you say, Mr. Perfect.”
“ Reckless ,” I grit out, and kiss her senseless.