Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Hutch
I look at the online calendar poll that I sent to everyone. Sighing, I adjust my hair and try again to find dates that work for everyone. I really want us all to be able to go. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’d love to have all my good friends there.
My eyes flicker to a singular family photo on my wall. I’m not sure why I put it up there. All the rest are my friends, former teammates, and the family I found here in this apartment building.
I text Troy. His nephew is getting married in a few weeks, and it’s messing with the schedule.
Me: Hey, when exactly are you and Jessa going to that wedding?
Troy: Actually, I was just about to text you.
These crazy kids decided to elope to Puerto Rico and take just our family with them.
So, I’ll send you the dates we’ll be there.
Sounds like the houses they rented for all of us aren’t far from where your friend’s house is.
Maybe we can just meet up with you all for some activities?
Me: Great! Send me the details and I’ll lock in our trip dates.
Troy: Will do.
A minute later, I get his trip itinerary. Checking my calendar again, I find that there are six days that work for everyone. Time to plan a trip!
I get started with activities and then dinners, and by the time my stomach growls, I realize I’ve skipped dinner. And I haven’t gone to check my cameras or Cliff. Not that Cliff needs checking.
I head down to the bench and find my camera still attached.
I had been looking to upgrade to a camera that sends me notifications, but I was afraid of spending money on it if Cliff decided to mess with it again.
The flowers are gone. Sitting down, I look for my furry friend.
A noise above me draws my gaze, and I see two little beady eyes staring down at me.
“Hey, buddy. How’s your day going?” I ask as I lean back on the old wooden bench. The weathered boards have seen better days. I’d love to donate money to fix it or replace it someday.
I grab some peanuts from my pocket and scatter them on the ground. Cliff scurries down and sits in front of me as he eats them.
I try to keep my distance, but it’s hard. He’s friendly and cute.
“Why friend-shaped if not friend?” Jocelyn’s voice says from behind me.
I turn to see her walking over from the trail. Her bag slung over her shoulder, a cute white hat on her head, and a matching scarf around her neck. The color highlights her gorgeous skin. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. She really is beautiful.
Patting the bench, I motion with my head for her to come sit and watch Cliff.
She hesitantly walks up and sits. “Uh, shouldn’t you, like, not feed wild animals?” she asks.
Shrugging, I look down at the trash panda. He’s sitting like a person with his back legs out in front of him while his front paws bring up a single peanut to his face.
“Look how he’s sitting, he’s practically a human,” I protest.
Jocelyn giggles, and the sound lightens my mood.
I had been thinking about my family and wondering how it all fell apart so spectacularly.
Their guilt over my accident. The falling out with my siblings over my wanting to buy out the farm to help.
My parents wanting me to work it out with my ex-girlfriend.
So many arguments that eventually led to me pushing them away.
Now it’s only the holiday visits and birthday cards that bring us together.
When I do go out there, I stay at a little cottage on the edge of the property.
I hate feeling this way, feeling like the people I should have trusted the most failed me when I needed them.
“What’s eating you?” Jocelyn says, pulling me away from my dreary thoughts.
“Oh, nothing,” I answer without thinking. I always do that. I’m never too serious. I’m never too deep. Then people don’t ask questions, questions that are hard to answer.
She eyes me suspiciously.
“Want to join me for dinner?” I ask, hoping to distract her with food.
“Whatcha makin’?” she asks, tilting her head to look up at me.
“Meat,” I tease.
She elbows me, and I pretend it hurts.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re a big baby.”
“Great, you can carry me back, then,” I say as I start putting my legs over her lap.
“Stop!” she giggles as she pushes at me.
I place my feet on the ground and toss the last of my peanuts at Cliff.
“Let’s g—" I yelp as I feel little feet on my calf. I look down, and Cliff is backing away from me, his little butt is high in the air, and he wiggles it before lunging at my shoe.
“Dude! Did you just try to climb me?” I say loudly as I back away.
Jocelyn is in hysterics, doubled over and laughing. “Oh. My. God,” she manages. “That raccoon either thinks you are its mom or a tree.” More laughter. I glare at her. “Or it wanted upsies.”
“Not funny. That’s it,” I state as I lean down and toss her over my shoulder, carrying her back to the apartment building while holding her bag in my free hand.
“Put me down!” she protests.
“I’m a tree,” I tease. “I can’t hear you.”
She’s laughing, and her body is now against mine as her breasts bounce against my shoulder. Fuck. I cannot think of her like that.
Pulling myself together, I set her down at the door and discreetly adjust myself so she can’t tell her closeness was making me behave like the Viking she always teases me to be.
“Steak and roasted potatoes,” I answer her previous question.
She purses her lips. “No veggies?”
“Potatoes are veggies,” I declare as I open the door and hold out my hand, motioning her inside.
“Are they?” she questions with a grin.
“You are an annoying PIMA,” I growl as I start up the steps to my apartment.
“Pima?”
I stare at her ass as it sways in front of me, hypnotizing me like a pocket watch dangling from a string.
She starts to turn to see why I haven’t answered. I clear my throat.
“Uh, pain in my ass,” I explain.
She tosses her head back, her curly hair bouncing as she laughs. “You’re hilarious,” she says as she gives me a warm smile.
“I’m something, I guess,” I respond as we step onto the landing and I open my door, letting her walk inside first. She sets her bag down and walks straight into my kitchen.
It’s not the first time that I’ve cooked her dinner.
I’ve offered her food on a few occasions.
She’s a good listener, and I enjoy cooking with her.
She plucks the apron that I have hanging on a hook on the wall and puts it on, expertly tying a bow in front. The strings pulled tight accentuate her tiny waist. My mind momentarily backfires before I force myself to stop ogling my friend.
She’s not once put the moves on me, making it perfectly clear that I’m friend-zoned.
Which, I sort of have found refreshing. Normally, I’m used to women trying to put the moves on me.
Less so since my football career ended, but it still happens.
The only women that I have ever been able to just be friends with have been the ones in this building.
And while Jocelyn doesn’t live here, she does work downstairs, so she sort of counts as my building family.
“These?” she asks as she opens my fridge and pulls out two steaks that have been marinating. I should have gotten three. I eat…a lot.
Guess I’ll buy more tomorrow.
“Yep,” I answer as I grab potatoes from the basket on my counter.
“So? What’s eating you?” she asks like a knowing mother.
Sighing, I lean back against my counter. “Just been stewing over family shit,” I admit, surprised about how easy it is to speak to her, and more surprised that I am surprised.
She raises one dark eyebrow. “Go on,” she says as she turns on my stove top and sets my griddle pan on it.
“You know how I don’t really talk to my family, right?” I start, and she nods. “Do you know why?” I ask, curious if the little I’ve confided in my other friends has gotten to her.
“Nope,” she answers while setting the steaks on the pan. They sizzle, and she turns back toward me, waiting for my response.
“Well.” I tap my hip. “This Frankenstein hip is thanks to a tractor accident at my parents’ farm.
They have about two hundred acres just outside of the city, where they grow soybeans, corn, some fruit, and do a little goat and cow dairy.
Anyhow, my dad hadn’t serviced the tractor; it stalled on an incline and tipped over, pinning me under it and crushing both my right hip and my football career. ”
She lets out a breath. “I’m sorry. That’s awful. I mean, I knew you’d had an accident, but I didn’t know it was at your family’s farm.”
“Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “My parents felt horrible and blamed themselves. I used to help pay property taxes with my football income, and when that ended, my siblings decided to sell part of our farm instead of talking to me. We had a huge fight, and things just haven’t been the same since.
I miss it out there. I even had fixed up an old cottage on the property.
I almost never go out there anymore. It just feels awkward. ”
“But you have a new job, right?” she asks.
“I do, and it pays great, not ‘professional football’ great, but a solid six figures,” I explain.
She looks around us. “Uh, this might be a bit of an intrusive question, but…why are you here, then?” She motions around us.
“The people,” I admit. Her eyes widen in surprise.
“My dad knew Al through some business stuff, and Al mentioned having an apartment available when I was having to sell my home. And I’d broken up with my girlfriend and I wanted to start over.
” I decide not to get into why I broke up with my girlfriend.
“At first, I thought it’d just be for a few months while I figured out what to do next.
It was near my PT and was a manageable size.
But then I got my job down the street, and I became close with everyone here.
I found I don’t need a six-thousand-square-foot house.
I just needed good friends and people I could trust,” I say as I take the boiled potatoes and put them in a cooking tray to roast in the oven.
“Tell me about the farm,” she says.
I smile sadly. I do love the farm. It was my favorite escape place. Even when I had my big house, I loved sneaking away to the cottage for the weekend.
“It’s beautiful. Rolling hills. A big old farmhouse where my parents live.
A small ranch house where my sister lives.
And my brother converted an old barn into a really nice house a few years ago.
There are two other barns where we keep animals and supplies.
An old silo. And the cottage by the pond.
There are forests and fields. We even have a small apple orchard.
My mom makes the best apple pies in the fall. I miss it,” I reminisce.
“That sounds lovely. I’d love a place to escape like that. Somewhere to hide and read and write,” she says with a dreamy, far-off look.
Then she sets down the tongs and turns to me, pulling me against her and hugging me tightly.
“I’m sorry all that shit happened to you. But I’m glad you ended up here and that we met. You’re a great guy and a good friend,” she whispers, her head tucked in the crook of my arm.
For reasons I can’t explain, I plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She stills in my arms, and I suddenly feel like I might have crossed a line I shouldn’t have.
I push back, giving us space. “Well, that’s my big sob story. How about we work on yours so you can write that paper?” I joke with a forced grin.
She laughs a little and turns back to the steaks. “OK, Mr. Professional Storyteller. Let’s work on that.”
And just like that, we go back to normal, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I couldn’t bear to lose this friendship. I couldn’t bear to lose Jocelyn.