26. Brody
Iclosed my eyes, tipping back my head. The summer sun washed over my face, and the smell of coffee drifted over from the other side of the street. A murmur of traffic and chatter filled my ears. Just Tuft Swallow on a Sunday morning. Everyone was going about their business as if my life hadn’t fallen apart overnight.
I’d had the worst sleep yet on Maggie Swan’s couch. The call with my agent had left me numb. Drained like a flat battery. He’d apologized for the radio silence. Blamed work. Other clients. But then he’d delivered the body blow. The words I’d dreaded to hear. Denver Snow Storm wouldn’t renew my contract. He hadn’t even pretended to have other opportunities lined up for me. Other offers. I was dead in the water, and we both knew it.
I let out a breath, hissing into the air like a boiling kettle. When I’d run out of steam, the bench sank a little beside me, and I turned to see Mrs. Woodcock’s rheumy blue eyes staring back at me. She’d dressed in one of her awful turquoise windbreakers and wore a cap printed with the slogan “Tit Peepers Do It Better.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Not with your friend today?”
I shifted on the bench. “Coop? No, he’s at work.”
She tutted. “Not Cooper, young man. Rowena.”
At the mention of her name, a searing burn hit my chest. I’d not seen Ro since she’d skated away from me yesterday. She’d left my helmet outside the den door at some point. I’d almost tripped over it as I came out of my room this morning. “No. She’s busy.”
Mrs. Woodcock cleared her throat, her jowls wobbling with the effort. “Well, from what I hear, you could do with a friend right now.”
Could I ever. Aside from my agent, I hadn’t spoken to anyone. Not team management, not Cooper, not Alex, not my parents, and not the one person I desperately wanted to talk to. Instead, I’d turned off my phone and lay awake all night, wondering what Ro was doing above me. Was she sleeping? Dreaming? Or was she tossing and turning like I was?
I’d fought the urge to creep up the stairs and knock on her door. Fall into her arms. Savor her warmth. But I feared the welcome I’d get.
“Do you want to talk about it? I know I’m not ‘hip and groovy’ like your fancy friends.”
Mrs. Woodcock lifted her fingers, wrapping her words in air quotes, and I chuckled.
Her cheeks glowed the softest pink. “Am I showing my age? Well, a friendly ear today is the same as it always was.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. Why not? I had to get my thoughts out somehow; to someone. Currently, they swirled around in my head, tripping over each other and making no sense.
“My career is over.” There. I said the words I’d avoided even thinking. Out loud and to another person.
“Oh, yes. I heard something on the news about your situation.”
I stared at her.
“Oh, you’d be surprised what I watch. What I see. There’s not much I don’t know about this town. About what goes on here.”
I swallowed hard under her intense gaze. It was like Mrs. Woodcock had gone all witchy and looked into my soul. Like she’d swap her visor for a pointed hat and take off on a Swiffer at any moment.
“Then you’d know that my team dropped me.” Admitting it out loud was like swallowing razor blades. “It’s done. I’m out.”
“Meaning?”
I let out a heavy breath, running a hand over the back of my neck. “Meaning, what am I gonna do? I’m no good at anything else. Just Hockey. I don’t want to start over again.”
Mrs. Woodcock ran a palm over her fawn slacks. “I see. So without this big contract, there’s nothing you can do?”
“No. Well, I had an offer to coach the junior team in Robin Springs.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh. The Rockets? So many of our townsmen have played for them.”
“Yeah. I played for them too. But coaching a kid’s team isn’t the same as playing in the NHL.”
She huffed a breath. “No, it’s not. There are no sponsors to puff you up in Robin Springs. No news crews following you around, hanging on your every word. No ego to carry with you. When all that’s stripped back, young man, what do you have left?”
I closed my eyes for a long beat before meeting hers. “Nothing.”
Mrs. Woodcock shook her head slowly. “That’s not true now, is it? There’s far more for you in this little town than you realize.”
“More?” I ran my eyes over her face. Why did I feel like she was talking about Ro?
“I’ve known you since you were a little boy, Brody. I see how much your career has meant to you. I’m not saying I’m not proud of you. We all are, but there’s more to life than being in the spotlight. The pressure. It must be all-consuming. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a break? Knowing how far you’ve come?”
A sudden chilly wind rustled the leaves above us. Damn, Mrs. Woodcock was wise. How did she know about the grinding pressure to perform? The sick feeling that filled my gut when I had a poor game. “It is all-consuming.”
“And what are you really doing it for? The team? The competition?” I nodded, and she smiled. “And you’d still have all that at Robin Springs, just not quite how you pictured. Can you imagine what those kids would say if you took them on?”
I shrugged. “They’d probably hate being coached by someone whose leg let them down. Who’d failed.”
She tutted again. “They’d move heaven and Earth to make you proud. Think. You were just like them once. Full of dreams. It’d be like giving back to everyone who helped you get where you are today.”
I cocked a brow in her direction.
“Well, yesterday, anyway,” she said.
“But it’s not the same. Everyone will forget Flock. Me.”
Mrs. Woodcock placed a small, blue-veined hand on my arm. “No. You’re right. It can’t be the same, and there’s nothing you can do about that. But why can’t it be different? You can’t change what’s happened, but you can grow into it. And the townsfolk would never forget you. Tuft Swallow has a long memory, and we look after our own. Think of the town motto–‘Swallowers always come together.’ As I say, I’ve known you a long time, and I watched you rise from the bottom when you were just a kid running your paper route. But I think you need to see the bigger picture.”
I paused. “And you’re going to help me?”
“No, dear. You need to do that for yourself. I’m just going to ask you one question. What if everything you ever needed is right here in Tuft Swallow?”
I tugged my brows together.
“A life in a town like this is what you make it. The people around you. Think of the good you could do here. Every little kid idolizes you. Everyone respects you. Some people never have your gifts. And if you do it right and stop feeling sorry for yourself, you can make a difference.”
“Give back to the community, you mean?”
“Exactly, Brody.”
A prickle ran over my skin at her words, and my breath ran a little shallower than before. That’s what Ro had said about the little things making the difference.
I stared at the back of my hands as they lay in my lap. If I was honest, I hadn’t missed walking out on the street and being mobbed for autographs or selfies or the people staring at me in restaurants or bars. Any initial excitement about my arrival in Tuft Swallow had faded. Now, folks just wanted to hear how I was. Chat about life. Football.
And then there was Ro. Her smile, her kisses. Since I’d rolled back into town, I’d laughed more than I had in years. I looked up and ran my eyes over the square. The old men playing Kerplunk. The glimpse of Main Street and the banners celebrating the latest cornhole victory hanging from the lampposts.
A warm glow spread across my chest. Tuft Swallow felt like home. Rowena felt like home. She was home.
If I had to go back to my team, would I really be able to leave her behind? The idea gave me a gnawing, gaping hole in my heart. Not seeing her every day, crochet hooks tucked in her hair, her freckled nose wrinkled in concentration, was unthinkable. No. There was no way I could say goodbye to her.
She was the light in my life. All the hope. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to see it.
But would I, not Flock, just Brody, be enough for her? Would we be enough for each other? I turned to Mrs. Woodcock. She had the tiniest smile on her mouth, and her eyes crinkled at the corners like she’d read my mind.
“The two of you would be enough.” And with those words, she patted my knee, stood, and headed toward town.
After my “intervention”at the hands of Mrs. Woodcock, I took a walk around Tuft Swallow, thinking long and hard about my future. What would my life look like, and who would I be without my career. Based on the sympathetic smiles from the folks I saw, news about my being dropped traveled fast.
But nobody bothered me or pestered me for a comment. They just clapped me on the back and commiserated, wishing me well. One little kid even hugged me and offered me half his sandwich.
The bird watchers were out again, in all their turquoise glory. The blonde lady I met at the crochet club came up to hug the goat. He was eating primroses near the Swallow, his little bell jingling. I smiled. This town was nuts. Crazy. But right now, it was the only place I wanted to be. The place I could breathe. And Ro was the only person I wanted to be with.
Unfortunately, a few things were standing between us being together. Namely, her feelings on the matter, plus three strapping and protective brothers. I sucked in a breath and pulled my phone from my pocket. It was time to tackle the largest one.
I tapped out a message…
Brody: Coop, can you meet me at the Crow?