36. Brent
36
Brent
I ’m just finishing scrambling some eggs, something Joey taught me recently, when I turn around and spy her walking out of the bedroom. Her hair is still damp in a loose braid, and she’s dressed in yoga pants and a long T-shirt. She looks gorgeous and sexy. I feel like the sex addict she accused me of being because I’m pretty sure I could get it up again if she gives me even the tiniest bit of encouragement.
Okay, maybe I am a little addicted—to her body.
I ignore the little voice that says I’m kidding myself that it’s only her body I want. I’ve slept with her almost every night since we’ve been together, something I’ve never done with any other woman, not even Caitlyn.
But Joey is different. It’s no hardship to fall asleep next to her, and surprisingly, neither is waking up with her in my bed. And that’s what bothers me. I could become used to having her, in more ways than one.
Get a grip, Hutch!
I decided the night before while I lay awake thinking of her words that I’m not going down that road, because responsibility and loss of hard-earned freedom are the only things waiting for me at the end. What we have now is perfect. Just the two of us, friends and lovers. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear her last night, though we both know otherwise. We can go on as we have been, enjoying each other’s company and having great sex, like the shower sex we just had. I can still feel her, hot and wet, against my bare—
Fuck!
How could I have been so stupid? It’s the first time I’ve forgotten to use a condom with her. With anyone. I never forget, ever. It’s the surefire way to be trapped. I always insist on a condom, even when a woman says she has it covered. One, I don’t want to pick up anything. And two, I don’t trust them to be telling the truth.
Christ! I didn’t even think of it when I entered her. I wasn’t thinking at all. All I knew was the sensation of her slick heat gripping me tightly and how incredibly amazing it had felt.
A sense of panic rises. I can’t lose my shit now. I breathe slowly and deeply, exhaling fully, focusing on my breath.
“Is something wrong?”
I drag my unfocused gaze to her, blinking to clear my vision and seeing her concern. Hasn’t she realized we’ve just had unprotected sex? I need to bring it up, if only to make her aware of the possibility of pregnancy. The thought makes my insides cramp.
“Is it the bad dream you had?”
What? I shake my head at the sudden change in conversation—at least the one I was having with myself. I haven’t had one of my nightmares in years. Vague images swirl at the edges of my memory.
“Brent?”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I don’t remember having a bad dream.” Is it a lie if I didn’t remember until she mentioned it?
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I didn’t use a condom.” I brace for a dramatic response, but instead of the shock, dismay, or fear—maybe all three—I’m expecting, I receive a shrug. A shrug! As if getting pregnant is not significant. Because she wants a kid? Has she done this deliberately, to trap me?
Her calm voice cuts into my raging thoughts. “I know. But it should be okay. I started birth control after…” She looks away and blushes. “After we agreed to…this.” She gestures a hand between us. “Besides, I’m expecting my…that time…” She stumbles over the words.
I don’t share her confidence in birth control or the fertility cycle, not with Caitlyn’s bombshell still unresolved. Yet I feel enough relief at her words that I let go of my suspicious thoughts.
I notice her blush and almost laugh at her embarrassment. After everything we’ve done together in—and out of—bed, she’s embarrassed to talk about her period. I still marvel that someone in this day and age can be so modest and unworldly.
Reminded again of that innocence and her pure sweetness, I know without a doubt Joey is not the type of woman to intentionally trap me. I can’t believe I thought such a thing of her, since it’s me who forgot the condom. Thank fuck I didn’t voice my suspicions out loud.
Glad to have everything right again, with her at least, I tease her. “You’re expecting what? Your period? Menstrual cycle? Time of the month?” I pause while her face turns redder. “Your Aunt Flo?”
“Shut up,” she mutters, her face turning pink, and looks at her coffee.
“How does something so normal embarrass you?”
“I’m not used to talking about that kind of stuff.”
“You lived with my sisters and mom for—” I shudder at thinking of my mother and sisters in the same sentence as periods and tampons. “You lived in the same house with them for two years. They talked about it like it was nothing, even when I was there.”
“If I couldn’t escape the conversation, I just listened while they talked.” She pauses before admitting, “A therapist said I have PTSD from…an incident.”
“Incident?” I ask, curious what could have caused post-traumatic stress from such a normal part of life.
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “My mother was never open about that kind of stuff—about anything, really. So when I got my period at school, I was totally unprepared. I was so young, barely ten.”
I wince, knowing where this is going.
Joey bites her lip to stop the trembling, her eyes sad and embarrassed. I put a hand over hers in regret and comfort.
“I was scared and crying, but some of the kids knew what it was and started laughing and teasing, which meant that soon everyone knew and no one let me forget it. What few friends I had at the time were boys, and they were mortified to be anywhere near me. It was a long few months until the divorce was final and we moved. The only good thing to come out of my parents’ split.” She attempts a smile, but it’s pitiful.
I take her into my arms, holding her and feeling useless. “I’m sorry, baby.” I wish I had been around to shut up their laughing and teasing. To protect her from all the teasing and hurt she’d suffered.
She huffs a short, unamused laugh, shaking her head. “It was awful, but I’m not sure it’s the same as something truly traumatic like abuse or war…”
I can understand, having gone through therapy. The trauma of losing two of the people closest to me had caused nightmares and panic attacks. My mother had insisted, but it was my remaining family that had gotten me through the worst of it. I love my mom and sisters dearly, though they drive me nuts with their…femaleness.
But her experience had traumatized Joey and at a much younger age, compounded by the bullying, loss of friends, and her parents’ divorce, with no one to help her through it.
“Shit, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to bring back painful memories. I’m sorry.”
“Actually, I think this might have been therapeutic. I managed to talk about it, and with a man, no less!” She laughs more authentically.
I kiss her smiling mouth, then her dimpled chin, before leaning back to ask her. “You know what I just realized? You don’t call me by any nickname. How come?”
She frowns at me. “What do you mean? You want me to call you Hutch?”
“No, I mean, like ‘baby’ or ‘honey’ or…”
“Or ‘big guy’ or ‘stud muffin’ or—” Her smile is mischievous, her whole demeanor lightening with the change in topic.
“Wiseass.” I lightly pinch her ass.
She grins. “I know what I can call you. Babe.”
I tilt my head. “Why do I feel like there’s a joke in there somewhere, on me?”
“Isn’t that what you called your…harem? You can be my harem of one.”
“Ah. I see. Okay.” I feel my face flushing but ignore it, hoping she doesn’t notice. “So I’m just a booty call to you.”
Joey laughs again and kisses me. Her initiative isn’t lost on me since it’s rare for her to kiss me first. “Can you call it that when we live under the same roof? Or when you make me breakfast?”
“It’s cold now. Let me make it again—”
She shakes her head after glancing at her phone. “I’ll do that while you pack. You need to leave soon.”
Damn. I wish I could drive straight to the airport instead of taking the team bus from the stadium. It would give me at least an extra hour with her.
I asked Joey to come with me to the away game, but since we won’t have time to spend together, she decided to go to Connecticut to watch the game with Mom, Charlie, and Bobbie. I think it’s more likely that staying out of the spotlight motivated her decision. Just as well, after what happened yesterday.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me drive your Ferrari all by myself.”
I can’t either, considering she hasn’t driven much since high school. But the ass-wiggling excitement she displays makes it worth the risk. And at least she’s driven it once before. I let her drive us back from Connecticut after a visit to see Mom.
“Just don’t drive too fast.” Underneath the sweet, shy exterior lies a speed demon.
“I’ll keep your baby safe.”
“Good. Keep my car safe too.”
She blushes with pleasure at the word play, then does one of her own. “Thanks for letting me play with one of your toys, babe. So to speak.”
I roll my eyes at her, then kiss her. “I’ve created a monster.”
I jolt awake in bed with a sense of panic. My eyes spring open. They close in relief at seeing I’m not in my bedroom. I’m in the hotel in Dallas where the team is staying the night before the game tomorrow…Today. It’s nearly dawn.
I drag myself up to lean against the headboard and rub my hand over my face, trying to wipe away the nightmare. It’s been years since I’ve had one like it, that I can recall anyway. Joey mentioned a bad dream the night before, but I barely remembered it.
The images fade, but the memories and the tightness in my chest don’t. I was dreaming about my father and brother again. They were walking ahead of me into the burning warehouse while I tried to run after them and warn them not to go in. The fire hose I carried weighed me down so I couldn’t keep up. I collapsed under the weight and fell to my knees, watching helplessly as they disappeared into the raging fire.
One of the worst panic attacks I had was the night before the NFL draft. Despite Scott’s assurances, I was scared to death I wouldn’t be drafted and my family would continue to struggle financially. I took the risk of entering the draft a year early because I was afraid of taking the bigger risk of getting injured again if I played another year in college. The minimum starting salary of a rookie back then was almost half a million dollars, and I couldn’t pass that up. Luckily I made quadruple that amount my first year thanks to a signing bonus.
Almost ten years later, I have more money than I need to take care of my mother and sisters for the rest of their lives. It doesn’t take a shrink to understand what the dreams mean or why they’ve started up again. I drag myself to the bathroom and splash cold water over my face until the dregs of the nightmare and panic wash away.
I feel terrible for not being completely truthful to Joey, but I can’t tell her the reason for the dreams. That I might have a child that I unwittingly abandoned…who is the same age Joey was when her father left her.
Granted, I didn’t know about the girl until recently, but I haven’t done anything about it either—and I don’t want to. I don’t think Joey would be able to forgive that, and I realize I am very much afraid of losing her if she found out because I…need her.
I’ve been fooling myself and her by thinking we’re keeping things light and friendly. Despite my decision to maintain the status quo by not responding to her declaration of love, it doesn’t change reality. And the reality is that I am in a serious, committed relationship with Joey, even if I haven’t been ready to acknowledge it.
I wait for panic to fill me again at this new revelation but am surprised when, instead, I feel a sense of peace. Being committed to her doesn’t feel like a noose around my neck or a weight on my shoulders. Somehow, it feels freeing.
And I’ve been a jerk for denying it to her and anyone who asked. By doing so, I’ve belittled her, our relationship, and what she’s come to mean to me.
I’m going to make it up to her when I return home. A romantic date in a public place to let the world know she’s mine. Despite the media storm and resulting lack of privacy for her, the decision feels right. As much as I want to protect her, I don’t want to hide her forever like a dirty little secret.
I slide back under the covers, but sleep escapes me as my thoughts swirl about what I should do regarding Caitlyn and her daughter. If Emily is mine—my mind balks at the possibility—then don’t I have a responsibility to her? Not just financially, but as a father? But can I force a relationship with a girl who is already half-grown and has a father she loves?
My breath becomes shallow again, and I thrust the thought of being a father out of my head. I can’t think about it. I’m not ready to accept it as a possibility. Giving up on sleep, I throw on some shorts and a T-shirt. I leave the room, passing a sleepy security guard on my way to the gym.
Ignoring Joey’s voice in my head telling me to warm up slowly, I start running on the treadmill, increasing the speed until all I’m thinking about is the game I’ll be playing in a few hours.