Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1) (28 page)

The Future

The roar of the crowd
was something Tabor never missed—mostly because he was only without it a
short time before he was back in the game. The odds of his return were slim,
but the media never gave Tabor enough credit.

Watching football
eventually got easier for me…once I understood the game. But I still cringed
when I heard the crack of the helmets or the someone stayed down on the ground
too long. Tabor assured me that it sounded worse than it was, though I never
quite believed him.

It was a warm September
day and I was in the stands, my mom and dad on one side and Marta on the other.
Abbi and Grace were sitting behind us with their families, which had grown over
the years.

We were waiting for the
team to take the field and I noticed that the stands were filling in quickly.
It was rare that my parents came to a game, and Marta typically came to the
season opener and maybe the last game. But this was a special occasion and I
was happy to have so many family members share the day with us.

Especially my dad.

A few years after Tabor
and I were married, my dad was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s and he
was understandably devastated. Mom was amazing at helping him come to terms
with what was happening. It was hard to watch, but seeing the two of them come
together and grow stronger made all of us proud.

“These are good seats,”
Dad said to my mom, looking at the bench where the coaching staff was standing.
“Who’s playing?”

“Dad,” I said, getting
his attention and pointing to the field, “it’s almost time.”

“It’s almost time,” he
repeated. He looked around, trying to figure out what I was referring to, but
seeing the players running out helped him.

“Is Tabor playing
today?” he asked.

“Just watch,” Mom said
patiently as she rubbed his arm.

We were grateful that
his disease progressed slowly, though it didn’t buy us as much time as we would
have liked.

“Where’s Tabor?” he
asked again.

Before we could answer,
the announcer started calling out the senior players’ names as one by one they
made their way onto the field. We clapped and cheered as each one made his way
out, and I watched with bated breath for the final name.

“And wearing number
thirty-five…DJ Hunter!”

I looked at my dad, who
was wearing a confused look on his face as he stared at the field, but we gave
him a moment. I knew he’d realize it soon.

“Danny’s playing,” Dad
said, and looked at me for confirmation.

“He is,” I answered, my
eyes filling with tears.

“It’s the championship
game, Dad,” I said, with so much pride I thought I was going to burst.

Dad looked around and
faced Mom. “Where’s Tabor?”

She smiled and pointed
to the field. “He’s down there coaching your grandson’s team, honey.”

He looked at me and wore
the widest grin I’d ever seen. DJ and my dad were close, and he was the only
one who still called him Danny. And though it was hard to watch his grandfather
deteriorate, my son made sure to visit him every week.

“Danny’s in the college
championship,” Dad said as he started remembering what the day way about.

It was the first time
Beachmont University had made it to the big game, and my son had helped them
get there. It was a proud moment when DJ ran onto the field for the last time
as a college athlete. He’d decided to forego the football draft and finish up
his business degree, despite speculation he’d be a first round draft pick.

DJ and Tabor were close,
but he didn’t want to follow in his dad’s footsteps, and we only wanted our son
to be happy.

Tabor looked over his
shoulder and spotted me, waving and grinning. He had taken over the head
coaching position when no one else had wanted it. Many thought it was a bad
move, but it kept us close to home and gave him the opportunity to do what he
loved—working with kids.

He was surprised when DJ
had decided to go to Beachmont so he could play football for his dad, but I
wasn’t. Our son idolized his father. To have the opportunity to play the sport
and
be coached by one of the best
defensive ends to ever play was a chance he didn’t want to miss.

The team walked over and
joined the coaches for a huddle and DJ looked over at my dad, giving him his
signature salute before facing Tabor. There were a few minutes before the game
started, and the players were talking amongst themselves when Tabor looked at
me again.

He walked toward me and
my smile, which hadn’t faded, grew. There was a cement wall that kept us from
getting too close to the field, but it had never stopped Tabor before. He
grabbed a hold of the metal attached to the wall and lifted his body as close
to me as possible.

I leaned down and kissed
him because it was our pregame ritual.

“Good luck,” I said.

“Don’t need it. I have
you,” he said.

“Always.”

The
Girls of Beachmont Book 2

String Beans

by
T.K. Rapp

Prologue

“I’m heading home, Alex,” I told my boss as
grabbed my belongings. My long brown hair was caught beneath the strap of my
messenger bag and as I wrestled with setting it free, I stumbled. Fortunately,
I beat out clumsiness because I caught myself before falling over completely.

“Already?”

“Yeah, just finished with Sadie,” I smiled.

“How’s she doing?” he asked through a laugh,
keeping his eyes fixed on the drum kit he’d been working on.

“She’s doing great, but then again, she’s your
kid,” I reminded him with a grin.

I typically gave his eleven-year-old guitar lessons
when a client canceled…and it was safe to say, she had been getting lots of
practice time. She was a natural. Still, it would be nice if my regulars showed
up. Will and I needed the extra money to help make rent.

“You and Will doing anything tonight?”

“I doubt it. He’s been working nights at the
club and our schedules are completely messed up.”

“Marriage life, right?” he laughed again.

“Yeah,” I muttered before grabbing my guitar
case and waving as I headed out the front door.

The warm afternoon air greeted me and the
descending sun momentarily blinded me until I slipped my sunglasses on. We had
had so much rain the last week that I was beginning to think the weather might
be the reason for all the cancelations.

My beat up whit Beetle was parked in the back of
the historic red brick building, right next to Alex’s new pickup. I was sure he
freaked when he saw me pull into the spot near his new baby.

Will hated driving my car and teased me that the
undercarriage was probably rusted and before long I’d be
Fred Flintstoning
my way to work. She may have been old, but she’d
gotten me where I needed to go, even if it did take at least two times to get
her started.

“C’mon baby,” I said, trying to start the car.

I turned the key again and the engine finally
turned over. I started heading home to our one bedroom studio apartment a short
fifteen minutes away eager to see my husband.

We moved to Spring Park after we finished
college because Will said it would be good for our careers. Granted, there
wasn’t much back home for music majors, but I wasn’t sure Spring Park was any
better.

It took me almost two months to find my job at
Hodges Music Store, and while I appreciated the work, it wasn’t exactly where I
thought I’d end up. That’s why I went to college, right? But then again, I did
select music as my major. I could have gone with something practical like
business, but I was practical all my life.

Despite that one leap I took, I was always
practical, even in our marriage.

We were a perfect match ever since we met at
Battle of the Bands in Wheeler. I was there with my roommates because they knew
I was friends with a few of the groups that were competing. All the girls had a
thing for musicians, but that was never my scene. I always loved music, and
could appreciate someone’s ability, but hooking up with talent wasn’t me.

Until
Will.

Two Years Earlier

The third band was playing and I didn’t care for
their style, so it was the perfect time to hit up the concession stand for
another beer. Some guy was standing in front of me drunk off his ass and when
he turned to leave with his beer it was sloshing all over the place. Will must
have seen it coming because he wrapped his arm around my waist and swung me
around so the beer missed me, instead sending the amber liquid all over his
shirt.

He was an adorable mess. His brown hair was
mussed, though I assumed that was him, not the beer. His concert tee was soaked
so he pulled it over his head revealing muscular abs and a sexy smirk when he
caught me looking.

“Thanks,” I said, as coolly as I could muster.
“Wasn’t necessary, but thanks.”

“No worries,” he smiled. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. What about you?” I asked, stepping up to
order my beer. “Can I buy you a beer?”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?” he
smiled, but not offended by the offer. He looked up at the stage and nodded at
the band playing. “So what you do you think of them?”

I didn’t even wait to think of my response, I
already had an opinion.

“They’re trying too hard. It’s not bad, but
where’s the passion? Where’s their soul? I want to feel their words, but all I
feel is screaming and angst…and not in the good way. They just sound soulless.”

When he looked at me, his mouth was slightly
agape, but he recovered and handed me my beer as he took the other.

“Don’t hold back,” he laughed. “So what’s your
name?”

“Viola, but everyone calls me Vi.”

“Well, Vi, maybe I’ll see you around? Talk music
sometime?”

“Yeah, Sure,” I said and started to walk off,
but he called my name and I had to turn around.

He was holding a black sharpie in his hand. “So,
does that mean I get your number then?”

I smiled at him and scrawled my name and number
on his forearm, wondering if he’d be able to make any of it out through the sea
of tattoos that covered skin.

The crappy band finished playing as I was joining
my friends and the MC announced the fourth band would take the stage soon. My
roommates were laughing and carrying on, but I was too distracted by the image
of Will to participate.

It was twenty minutes later when the fourth band
took the stage. I was getting settled in when the lead singer stepped to the
mic. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I knew he was talking to me.

“Hey everyone, I’m Will Banks and we’re Sound
Venom. I was just talking to a friend who said that she needs passion, so here
we go.”

My eyes were wide and felt my cheeks flushed,
but no one knew he was talking about me.

I watched as Will strummed his guitar and began
singing lyrics to a song I’d never heard. He was so handsome up there and in
his element. There were no excessive lights, no crazy on-stage dramatics, just
the band and their music. It was perfect.

He called me later that night to ask what I
thought and I was a little surprised that he didn’t play the game. Most guys
played the game, but not Will. We talked all night and met up in the morning
for coffee so we could talk some more.

Three months later, we were engaged and six
months later, we were in front of the justice of the peace, getting married
after our last class of the day. Our parents were against it, but there was nothing
they could do or say to dissuade us.

It wasn’t incredibly romantic, but it was
exactly what I wanted.

Will was able to bring out the fun and
spontaneous of me and I tried to keep him on track. We couldn’t have been more
different, and I liked that.

Polar opposites.

I needed direction, a plan, something to work
toward. Will liked to go with the flow and see what happened.

Unfortunately, the go-with-the-flow mentality
didn’t pay the bills. A six months into marriage, the going got tough…

Real tough.

We were fighting over bills and school all the
time and struggling to make ends meet. It wasn’t what I expected married life
to be, but we had more good days than bad.

It was nearly a two years after we married that,
Sound Venom broke up. Damn shame because the guys were amazing. It was hard on
Will because he missed collaborating. Every once in a while, we would try to do
something together, but our styles were so different that it never really
meshed. He was beating himself up because he felt like a failure without his
musician brothers and ended up having to get two jobs and dropped out of
school.

But he limited the time he spent working because
he wanted to continue making music.

Will was a dreamer. I was a realist.

***

I pulled into my parking spot and grabbed
everything before I headed inside. Will worked crazy hours at The Firehouse, so
we were lucky if we shared a bed for more than a couple of hours. I hoped that
I could have dinner made by the time he got home so we could catch up before he
left to tend bar at the club.

He made serious bank when he tended bar.

But I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the reason he made
such great tips was based on his sexy as hell rocker looks. I had gone to the
club to listen to local bands play and I saw the way women looked at him. It
always makes me laugh because he gave them a smile, or so they thought, but his
eyes were always glued to mine.

They could have the dream, I had the guy.

Our apartment was on the first floor, which was
a good thing. Will liked to play his music a little loud, but I figured the old
lady that lived above us was probably deaf because she never complained. And
the guy to our right was always too high to care. We had never had a chance to
meet any of the other neighbors, but no one had told us to keep it down. A
surge of excitement rolled through me when I heard the music knowing that he
was already home.