False Start: A Football Romance (46 page)

BOOK: False Start: A Football Romance
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“What's wrong, Lucas? Have you . . . never seen a woman . . . trip over a line in the road before?” She asks him, her sentence broken from the laughter spilling out of her. I can help it. I lose it.

“Oh my God! Stop! I can't . . . deal!” This makes Lucas’s hard facade crumble.

“You two are nuts! NUTS!”

“I know,” we say at the same time and then burst out laughing some more. I wish Emma were here right now. She would understand this crazy moment, and later, when I couldn't stop thinking about it, she would be there to go through all the emotions with me, nitpicking them to death until we both thought we understood it all better. I feel like something drastic has changed in the relationship with my mother. Something has shifted out of place, or maybe back into place, I’m not sure. It both scares me and excites me. Some of the hate I had harbored for her over the years sifts away like fog in the morning light. Our shared laughter did that. It created a bridge that tied me to her, and this time, the swampy waters below aren’t as murky . . . they aren’t filled with as many hunger-craved beasts waiting to take a chunk out of me.

Aaron is home when we get back, and I see the hesitation in his eyes when he sees us all walk in and hears the easy laughter between us all. I head to the kitchen, letting Aaron know that I asked Lucas to stay for dinner tonight. I can see he wants to object. The thought of his baby sister growing up and giving away the love she is supposed to keep just for him is something he is not ready for, but before he can voice his objection, Mom calls through the house, offering her help in the kitchen. I readily agree, and I think that shocks him into silence. He left earlier today for a date, and at that time, I still hated her. Here it is six hours later, and we are cooking dinner together—willingly. He's not the only one surprised by the turn in events. I am too. But today, I am just going to go with the flow and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

Sometimes in life, a wall is built up right in front of you and you can't figure out how to get to the other side. I have been standing on the wrong side of my own wall for a long time. Every time I would start to climb it, my own insecurities would knock me back down. My monster would push me back to the ground and I would give up. It took me a while to realize that up wasn't the only way to get to the other side. So I have decided to walk around it. The wall is still there. I haven't conquered it by any means, but I won't let it conquer me anymore either. From now on, I am going to try to look at my past with my mother as a wall I couldn't climb over. It happened. It sucked. It doesn’t have to be my future anymore. I can choose another path. I don't need to go straight up. I will go around it.

 

Chapter Twenty- Seven

Charlee

 

After dinner, Lucas and I go out into the backyard for a few minutes alone after I lay Everly down for bed. As soon as the door closes, I surprise him with a hot, steamy kiss on the lips and then flit away from him before he has time to react. I have so much unspent energy coursing through me, it's hard to stand still. All evening, I have watched him. Over dinner while he chewed his food and when he was helping me wash up the dishes, all I could think about is how much I wanted to feel his lips against mine. Watching his mouth open and close, I wanted to pull his bottom lip in between my teeth and suck on it. I needed to taste his sweet peppermint breath.

It's no wonder I attacked him the first moment I could. His deep, husky laughter fills the air around me now as he chases me around the yard, darting around the old swing set. He grabs hold of my hand and pulls gently, spinning me around to face him. I wrap my free arm around his neck as he leans in. His eyes never leave mine. My breath catches in my throat in silent anticipation.

The desire and . . . love I see reflected in his soft chocolate gaze roots me to the ground. I can't move. I can't think. I can't breathe. I feel like we are sharing something special right this moment, and then the spell breaks. He darts in quickly, kissing me just long enough for me to sigh contentedly but crave more, and then he runs away, yelling “You’re it.” into the dark, humid night.

Game on, buster.

We chase each other through the yard for what seems like hours before collapsing in a pile of flesh and bones in the middle of the yard. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the thrum thrum thrum of his heartbeat in my ear. It soothes me as much as his hands drawing circles on my back. I could stay here forever in his arms, but soon, he tells me he has to head into town, and I need to go get some rest. I know he's right, but it still leaves me swallowing my disappointment.

Part of me, the ugly part of me, believes he just doesn't want to stay here with me anymore. That he's had his fun, but now it's over and time to move on. I know that isn't the case, but it's still hard to not feel it. I nod my head against his chest and swallow down the ache burning through me.

Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me sweetly one more time before heading out. When I walk in my room, Everly is sound asleep, listening to the lull of waves playing in the background.

The box on top of my dresser draws my attention. It's been over a week since the last time I read a letter. At the time, I didn’t think I’d ever want to read another one, but after the day I’ve had, it feels right. I pull out the first one my hand touches and turn it over to check the post date. June 2011. I tear it open, careful not to destroy the artwork on the back, and then I sit on my bed and lose myself in this letter from the past.

My beautiful baby,

When I close my eyes, I pretend that I can see you. You're running through an open field, laughing loudly as you trail your fingertips along the tall grass, stopping to pick a flower and pull it to your nose for a quick sniff. Inhaling all that is beautiful and bright and wonderful in the world. Embracing it wholeheartedly, just the way you always have.

You are sunshine. You are light. Nothing in this world is as amazingly beautiful as you, baby. I hope you always remember this. Life will undoubtedly throw many, many curveballs at you. And let me tell you, she has a hell of an arm, but when you miss the catch, baby, don't give up. Pick your glove up again and again. It will be hard. You will want to give up. Don’t.

If I could think of one thing to say to you, it's this . . .

Don't be me.

There have been so many days where I just look to the sky and ask why? Why did you create to just suffer? Just to screw up, and then I remember that I created you, Aaron and Matt, and that has to count for something, right? Maybe, just maybe, that was my reason for existing. I don't know, but on my darkest days, that's what I tell myself so I can make it through.

Don't ever let life hit you so hard that you lose sight of the blessings staring you in the face.

Be stronger than I was. Don’t ever try to forget the past. Embrace it. Allow it to make you stronger, wiser. Don't run from it or hide it. It's all a part of you, but you don't have to let it define you.

Be more.

I will love you every moment for the rest of my life, even if I can only see you and hear you when I close my eyes. It may be hard to believe at times, and I understand. God, do I understand, but it's the truth. I miss you, Charlee—every day—and I pray for the chance to make it all right.

Love, Mom.

Silent, salty tears flow down my face, leaking onto the paper as I read it again and again. I lie back in my bed, letting all the emotions I'm feeling wash over me. They are all so jumbled together, I can't pull a single one out and examine it. They crush together, hitting me harder and harder as I dissect each sentence until I can't read through the tears anymore. My bed is still shaking from the sobs racking my body, and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop them. My hand grips the page, crumpling it in my grasp as I drift slowly off to sleep.

I hear someone enter my room, their socks shuffling across the hardwood floors to my bedside. I try to pry my eyes open, to see who is here and what they want, but Sandman has claimed me. A blanket is eased over the top of me, and right before I fall into the oblivion of my dream world, I feel it. A kiss so soft, I wonder if I imagined it, right on my right temple. A rush of comfort flows through me, calming my shaking, sob racked body immediately. The kiss feels so familiar, like a memory stored away for safekeeping, and yet so foreign, I'm not sure it's real or part of my dream. My light is turned off. The room is thrown into total darkness, and I drift farther and farther away.

When I wake the next morning, I'm still clutching the paper tightly. It takes a moment for me to remember everything that happened yesterday and what it all means. I rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. Trying to clear the sleep out of them, I suddenly realize that last night was to the first night I’d slept dreamlessly—no nightmares waking me in the middle of the night with cold sweat pouring from my brow, panting, wondering where I was and what was happening. It was refreshing to wake fully rested and ready to take on the day. I smell coffee brewing downstairs and jump in the shower, excited to start my day.

Mom’s door opens right as I open mine, and my mother peers out on her way down the stairs. I stop just outside my door and glance at her, not sure what to say . . . what will today bring? I see her eyeing me, more than likely wondering what type of mood I'll be in today. I offer her a shy, easy smile.

“You headed down for coffee too?” I ask her, pausing at the top of the stairs. Her face lights up with relief as she shuts the door behind her.

“Yes. It smells heavenly,” she replies. “Did you sleep well last night? I thought I heard you last night.”

I suddenly remember the feeling of warmth last night just before I fell into a deep sleep. Someone was in my room. I know that for sure. I woke up this morning to a blanket draped over me and the light being turned off, but I wasn't sure if it was her or not. The soft kiss on the temple led me to believe it was, and her questioning me now is probably her wondering if I was aware. I'm not sure how to reply. Do I let her know that I know, or do I just let it go?

“Yeah, it was fine. And you?” I ask, deciding to avoid the conversation.

“It was good. Really good.”

Our conversation is cut short when we enter the kitchen. Aaron is standing at the counter with two cups in hand. He passes the first to me, and I immediately walk to the refrigerator, reaching inside for my favorite Irish cream coffee creamer. I don't know how anyone manages to drink straight black coffee. It has to be one of the vilest things in this world. It’s bitter and hard to swallow, but if given the choice between drinking black coffee and doing without it completely, then I'd happily choke the horrendous substance down. There is no way in the world I could survive without my daily caffeine intake.

I’ve just swallowed down my first heaping gulp when the doorbell rings. Moments later, Ashlin walks in the kitchen looking like something the cat dragged in. “What on earth, Ash? Did you get in a fight with a dumpster?”

“Ha-ha. Scoot, bitch. Give me some of that.” She takes my cup from my hands, raising it to her lips and inhaling its sweet, warm goodness. I hear her sigh from behind me while I pour myself another cup, thankful that Aaron made a full pot this morning. I pour in my creamer and sugar and turn back toward her, eyeing her suspiciously. Her hair is a ragged mess, draping down the middle of her back. She has swollen black circles under her bloodshot eyes. I watch as she finishes her coffee and then lays her head down on the counter.

“So sleepy.” She groans into the curve of her arm. I chuckle at her. It's funny to me that the one night I sleep like an angel, she has the worst sleep of her life.

Ok, that's it. I'm getting to the bottom of this right now. I have never in my life seen Ashlin like this. She's slouching off the bar stool right now, and she doesn't even realize it.

“My God, Ashlin, are you asleep?”

“Huh? What?” she asks, raising her head and righting herself on the stool once more. “Whaddya say?”

“You totally just fell asleep at my bar.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Uh huh, and I got a picture to prove it.”

“No! Charlee Tate Cooper, I swear you’d better delete any and all pictures of me drooling right now! I mean it!”

I lean over, laughing at her sullen expression. She tries to look angry, but the smeared mascara and lipstick across her face takes away from the severity of it.

“I'm kidding, dork. I don't even have my phone. Now tell me what the hell happened to you,” I say. She huffs for a moment, trying to pretend to be mad at me for tricking her, and then she jumps up and peers around the corner to make sure no one is listening in before she comes back, jumping up on the counter next to me.

“So, last night I went to this party at Drake’s house. I was gonna invite you, but we both know it's not really your thing, and besides, you were busy with Lucas anyway, right?” she asks, and I nod my head, letting her know that she was right to not invite me, and then I wait for her to continue.

“Anyway. You know it’s the first time I’ve gone out since dumping Andy, and I was a little nervous that I’d run into him, but not a bad nervous, more like I wanted to be on fleek just in case, ya know? So I got all dolled up and wore my new skirt—you know, the black one with rhinestones around the bottom? I looked ah-mazing!”

God, this girl could talk on and on about nothing at all. I nod along, waiting for her to get to the part where she tells me she got ran over by a herd of wildebeest or trampled by a group of elephants—something to explain how she could go from ah-mazing to this.

“It's a good thing too, because as soon as I arrived, guess who I saw? Fucking Andy, and get this—he wasn't alone. Cassie was there too. I mean, why the hell is she out at a party if she is pregnant? Stupid. He didn't see me though, thank God, so I crept into the kitchen and grabbed a red cup and filled it up. I know, I know. Don't start in on me about drinking. I had to have one. I mean, seriously, Char.”

“I get it, Ash. I'm not saying it's right, but yeah, I get it.”

“Ok. Well, while I was in the kitchen, this freaking guy walks in. Charlee, I thought I was going to die right then and there. It was like the air got sucked out of my lungs. I literally could not breathe. He was that beautiful. I know I was probably staring at him or something, but whatever . . . and I guess somewhere along the way, I did forget to actually breathe, because the next thing I know, his arms are around me and I'm inches from hitting the ground. He caught me right as I was about to hit the floor. Can you believe that?”

“Holy hell, Ashlin! That’s crazy. What happened next?”

“Oh yeah, so this stranger is scooping me up, but still holding me close, ya know, kinda protectively, and freaking Andy walks in. I swear, his eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character. He said something smartass about me not wasting any time. I don't even remember exactly what it was, but the stranger just reared back and punched him. Andy hit the floor, unconscious. Then the stranger turned back to me and asked if I was ready to leave. Of course, I said, and so we did.”

“Dammit, woman. I can't leave you alone for one minute. I can't believe he hit Andy. That’s crazy. Were you scared?”

“No, not at all. It felt so good to see him put in his place after the way he did me. I kinda wish I had been the one to do it.”

“So that still doesn't explain why you look like hell. I mean, I guess you had an exciting night, but didn't you think to shower before going back out in public?”

“Oh THAT . . . well you see, the thing is, I haven't exactly been home yet. I may or may not have gone home with a complete stranger last night and had the best night of wild sex in my life.”

“NO! Ashlin Montgomery, tell me you didn't stay the night there with him.”

“Well no. Yes. I don't know. Technically, I haven't actually slept . . . so?”

“Oh. My. God. My best friend is a slut,” I say, burying my head under my hands.

“Oh hush. Like you haven't been sleeping with Lucas this whole time.” I peek up from under my arm, watching her. Her eyes widen with shock. “You haven't?” she asks curiously.

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