Chapter 13
Taysom
I feel a frown forming on my face as I notice Wanda’s face mirrors mine. A sound of surprise escapes Wanda’s lips and she takes a step back. Concern laces her voice.
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to decide right now,” Wanda offers carefully.
Charlotte’s cheeks have gone from mildly pink to tomato red. I shouldn’t get so much pleasure from watching the reddening of her face, but I have to admit, it’s kind of fun.
“It’s not that I’m not grateful for the offer,” Charlotte says, then she purses her lips together.
“I appreciate both of you for this. But my passion is working with kids with developmental delays and defects, not athletes.” She cringes.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s right for me to accept a position there when I’m sure there are so many others who would be very excited for the opportunity. My calling is with those kids.”
“That makes sense,” I say, finally finding my voice. It’s not like I necessarily expected her to work at the Institute. There are a lot of factors here. I just didn’t expect her to turn it down flat.
“Yes, it does,” Wanda agrees. “Although there’s quite a bit of overlap, you’ll find. Many of the kids who need sports medicine treatment also have pre-existing conditions and delays they’re working around.”
Charlotte’s mouth forms a firm line, while her gaze flits around the room. Wanda seems to sense this isn’t going anywhere, so she sticks out her hand with a polite smile.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Charlotte. Good luck in all your endeavors.” She glances at me. “Taysom. Nice seeing you again.” She gives a small tip of her head, and then she’s gone, melting into the crowd.
“Wow. I just turned down a lucrative job offer.” Charlotte slaps her palms on either cheek, her brows pulled down. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“I can’t either,” I say, looking out over the crowd. This whole thing is just awkward.
Charlotte blanches. “I’m sorry, Taysom. I messed things up. Here you were just trying to help—” She shakes her head.
“No, you know what you want. It’s all good. I think your explanation makes perfect sense.”
I’d gotten used to the idea of her working for an organization that my foundation is closely tied to. I liked the thought of it.
I really shouldn’t have, especially because I could very well be traded in the next couple of months.
My life’s a ticking time bomb. At any moment, things could explode and I could be shipped off to some random team.
I’ll always love playing football, no matter the place, but I’m going to have a hard time playing for another team.
Still, I like this girl. She’s got guts.
“Beyond feeling strongly that I need to continue working with pediatric clients…I’m not a sports person. At all. I wanted to be. You know my whole family is athletic. But with my hip.” She shakes her head. “I think I’d feel really out of place.”
“Athleticism isn’t a requirement for working there.”
“Right, but an appreciation for sports and some working knowledge is certainly a plus. And I have neither.”
I scoff. “Yes, you do, Charlotte. You grew up with both of your parents coaching several sports. You played sports yourself when you were younger. I don’t remember a single time that I was over at your house that a game wasn’t being played or discussed or on in the background on that little TV you had in the kitchen.
” I pause, ducking my head. “I was always jealous that you guys had a TV in your kitchen!”
“I was jealous of your whole, big, fancy house!” Charlotte smiles. “I did want to play sports so badly for so long. I guess I sort of felt snubbed by it, you know?”
“Snubbed by sports?”
She chews on her lip before responding. “It sounds silly. Maybe it’s more that I felt…dropped. Or betrayed? No, that sounds way worse than it is.” She adjusts the bun at the back of her head. “I wanted it and couldn’t have it. What’s the right word for that?”
“Heartbreak?”
She shrugs and grabs an appetizer from the table nearest us. She takes a bite, chews, and swallows. “So you were jealous of our TV in the kitchen, huh?”
“I was jealous of everything you guys had.”
“What?” Her face is dubious. “We had five kids and lived in a small, old house that had been renovated so many times we started reusing the old stuff because it started coming back into style. My parents always said that by the time they finished remodeling the entire house, it would be time to start over at the beginning again.” She quirks a smile.
“It wasn’t a joke. It’s literally true. They’re currently tearing out a toilet in the basement that they put in themselves like twenty years ago when they first moved in.
” She reaches for another mini quiche. “Do not be jealous of that, Taysom.”
“Maybe not that, but other stuff, sure. The noise and chaos. How the kitchen island was full of so much stuff, but you guys could always find what you needed. And the way your parents coached everything you all played. There was always music playing and a game on. And everyone fought all the time, but it didn’t matter because it was obvious you all loved each other. ”
“You didn’t have that?”
It’s not a question. I suspect she knows about my parents’ divorce, even though it happened before Kyle and I became friends.
“No, I didn’t have that.” I clear my throat. “It’s okay. My parents love me and my sister. Just not each other. And my house was nice, but it was empty.”
She shrugs. “I’ve never been inside that house, I’ve just seen the outside. Kyle said it was cool inside.”
“I guess. My mom still lives there, but it’s been remodeled in the last few years. We’ve always joked it was so sterile because my mom’s a nurse.”
She laughs. “Ours certainly needed sterilizing once in a while.”
“It wasn’t dirty. It was just…enjoyed.”
“That’s true. It was.” A glance passes between us.
Something like old friends. That’s what we are.
It feels good being around someone who knew you before you became well-known in your field.
Before there were billboards of your face in random places.
Before you had to question anyone and everyone’s motives.
We’re interrupted by Dante Dowell’s parents, and I introduce them to Charlotte. We’re all talking and she’s…charming. Attentive. Almost confident.
As I watch her, I’m hit with another pang I don’t understand. I know it’s probably silly to see it that way, but her turning down the job feels like another rejection from her. It reminds me of our sushi date and how indifferent she seemed. Again, I wasn’t expecting her to fawn over me, it’s just…
Okay, maybe I was. I’d gotten too used to that, being new to the NFL was an exciting entity. An up-and-coming star on people’s radar. But I wasn’t on hers and apparently I’m still not.
I realized, while I was playing in the scrimmage moments ago, that I wanted her to see me throw the ball around. I wanted her to watch me throw a fade pass and be good. I am good at what I do.
I wanted to show off for Charlotte Mercer.
I groan internally.
I should not be trying to get her attention.
She’s my best friend’s little sister, and Kyle wouldn’t want me to date her.
Besides, I can feel it as surely as an animal in a pen senses a brewing storm.
Things are changing in my life. Things are about to be turned upside down with Casey Riddock around.
Dante’s parents leave and I’m struck again by her beauty. Her fire. “Charlotte, is there anything I can do about your job situation? Besides offer you a job you don’t want?” I give a hollow laugh.
She gives a lop-sided smile. “I appreciate you thinking of me and inviting me her to make that happen. I really do.”
“Of course.” I don’t mention that I had other, more selfish reasons for inviting her.
She continues on. “It was a very sweet gesture.” There’s an openness in her eyes that looks something like hope.
“Well, it wasn’t the right fit, but is there something else I can do?”
“Besides giving us a couple million in cold hard cash?” She laughs and holds up a hand.
“I’m totally kidding!” She grows serious.
“What about helping spread the word? I’m trying to throw together a last-minute gait analysis night before the center closes.
It’s a nod to my big project I’ve been working on, and since I don’t have a year plus to get it all done, we’re just going to do something on a smaller scale. ”
“Sure, I’ll talk it up.”
“How’s your social media game?” she asks.
“I don’t pay much attention to it, but I’ve got a pretty large number of followers. The team’s social media managers usually post stuff for me.”
She taps her finger thoughtfully against her lips. “Can you come over to my place tomorrow night?”