Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (24 page)

At the next red light I text my parents and brothers, letting them know that it’s all a big misunderstanding and that I’ve never cheated on Courtney, then turn my phone on silent so that I can focus on driving to the stadium.

When I get there, I literally run from my Jeep to the offensive coordinator’s office.

“Kistler,” I hear someone say. I turn and see Jax outside of the head coach’s office.

“Hey,” I say.

“You okay?”

I shake my head. “Everything has gone to shit. Over nothing.”

He nods and says, “I saw the photos. But I’ve seen the way you and Courtney are together and know that you would never cheat on her. If you want me to, I don’t know, tweet something, let me know.”

“I appreciate that,” I say.

“Any time.”

He nods at me before turning to go to the parking lot, and I take a deep breath before walking into the offensive coordinator’s office.

“There you are,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling like the apology is phenomenally inadequate.

“I know you are. You’re having a shit day. Amanda has requested a meeting with you after this one, which I think is it’s own kind of punishment. So, let’s go over this tape and when we’re done, you can head over to her. But I expect you to be here at six a.m. sharp tomorrow morning for extra drills, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he says. “Now let’s relive the glory that was last night’s game.”

Courtney

I look at my friends, who have all gathered in our dorm room living room, as they look back at me anxiously.

Sophie has just relayed what Adam told her over the phone and I know that they’re all waiting for me to say something. But I can’t think of anything to say. My mind is completely blank.

“Who names their kid Mariella?” Kate asks, breaking the silence.

“Seriously,” Becca says, and the two exchange a look. When Becca saw the photos, she came to my room when I didn’t answer the phone and my friends immediately made room for her in our close-knit circle.

“He’s telling the truth,” Sophie says, looking at me. “He didn’t even know that the photos were going around. He woke up, got breakfast, went home, called you, fell asleep, and when he woke up again, his entire world had changed and he didn’t even know it.”

“I’m with Sophie,” Willa says. “Adam wouldn’t cheat on you. I don’t even think he sees other women.”

“Clearly he does,” I say, recalling the images of him and Mariella.

“Not like that,” Willa says. “Courtney, do you really think Adam would cheat?”

My mind flashes back to when I was a sophomore in high school and I was
certain
that Adam finally liked me. He had asked me to go see a movie with him, and he bought my ticket and the popcorn. When we were sitting in the theater, our fingers kept brushing against each other’s when we would reach for handfuls of popcorn and it felt like a jolt of electricity passed between us each time it happened. Then on Sunday, he invited me over to watch the game Mike was playing in, and we sat next to each other all day, finding excuses to touch each other ever so lightly and quickly, but lingering longer and longer each time.

Because we went to different schools, we didn’t see each other during the week, but he had started calling me at night. Not for any particular reason. Just to see how my week was going.

By Friday, I was giddy. I couldn’t stop thinking about and talking about Adam, and since our high school’s football team had a bye that Friday, Rob and Ryan agreed to go to Adam’s home game with me. They won, and after the game I waited for Adam to come out of the locker room so I could surprise him and tell him congratulations. But when he came out, a tall blond girl ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

And he kissed her.

After that, I avoided him until that day we ran into each other on the Mizzou campus.

I remind myself that Adam didn’t cheat on me then. We weren’t together when he kissed the tall blond volleyball player. He wouldn’t cheat. It’s not how he operates.

“No,” I say finally. “I don’t think he would cheat on me.”

“Oh, praise God,” Sophie says, exhaling.

“Hopefully Mariella or this Grant Walker person will make some sort of statement that exonerates Adam,” Willa says.

“Doubtful,” Becca, who is a public relations major, says. “I mean, if those two are together-together, they’ll get photographed somewhere. But Walker just went through a pretty public divorce with his news anchor ex-wife. I doubt he wants more press because he’s sleeping with the girl Adam Kistler is supposedly cheating on his fiancée with.”

“Hey,” Sophie says. “There’s no cheating happening.”

“I know,” Becca says. “But that’s how everyone will see it. Grant is going to back way the hell away from that.”

“The best thing to do is probably nothing,” Kate says. “Just stay off social media for a few days and keep your head held high around here, just in case there are weird photographers creeping around trying to get a photo of you drowning your sadness in a tub of mashed potatoes.”

“Not a problem,” I say. “They can get as many photos as they want of me running and going to the gym.”

“Then they’ll say that you’re trying to get into shape to keep your man,” Kate says, and all of us roll our eyes.

I groan in frustration, feeling trapped. “If they’re going to take photos, they’re going to take photos, and then they’re going to do and say whatever they want with them. I can’t stop it.

“You’re supposed to go to New Orleans this weekend, right?” Becca asks.

“Yeah,” I say, sighing.

Then Willa asks, “Are you going to go?”

I shrug. Of course I want to go to New Orleans and see Adam. I miss him like crazy even though I saw him a week ago. But with all of this stuff coming to light, I just don’t know if I want to see him now. Even if he didn’t do it.

“You have to,” Kate says. “You and Adam need to be seen together to dispel these Mariella rumors.”

“He’s definitely going to want you there, too,” Becca says. “The media is going to be talking about this and how it’s going to affect his game and just that chatter will get in his head. He’ll need you there for support.”

My phone rings and I look down to silence it. I spoke to my parents earlier—they’re both shocked by the photos but don’t believe Adam would ever do anything like cheat on me—and I’ve been texting with my brothers
and
Adam’s brothers
and
Ashton. I’ve officially hired her as my wedding planner, and she wanted to see how I was doing, as well as find out if she needed to try to get back the deposits on the venues we booked just yesterday. Any other calls and texts, I’ve been ignoring.

But when I see that Melissa Montgomery is calling, I decide not to screen it.

“I need to take this,” I say to my friends before I head into my room for some privacy.

“Hello?”

“Courtney, hi. This is Melissa Montgomery.”

“Hi,” I say, and then have no idea what to say from there.

“I saw the story about Adam and wanted to reach out to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m, well. I’m processing everything.”

“It’s not easy to see that kind of stuff in the media about someone you love, huh?”

“Not at all,” I say. “I also don’t particularly like feeling like an idiot.”

She gasps and says, “Wait, is it true?”

I laugh a little, delighted by the fact that she didn’t believe it. “No, it’s not.”

“Oh, good,” she says, sounding completely relieved. “I hadn’t even stopped to consider that it was!”

“That’s a good thing,” I say. “A lot of people who know both of us have said the same thing. So, I’m hoping this will all blow over quickly.”

“Most likely,” Melissa says. “I’m so glad to know that you’re doing okay. If you ever need anything, please give me a call.”

“Actually,” I say. “I could use some advice.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says.

“Do you ever feel jealous? Of other women?”

“Sure,” she says easily. “All the time.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m human.”

“No, I mean, why would you ever feel jealous of anyone? You’re
you
. You’re gorgeous and strong and smart and really nice and you freaking beat cancer.”

Melissa laughs this time and says, “Because you always want what you don’t have. I’m not tall or olive skinned, and I don’t have naturally wavy hair. I’d kill to have any of those things.”

“I’m pretty sure you could buy most of those,” I say, and Melissa laughs again.

“You just have to learn to love yourself. When I first met you, you were completely at ease with who you are, and even though you were in a house of total strangers, you were just you. It’s rare to find that in someone your age. Or in anyone ever.”

I nearly fall off the bed when she says this. I wasn’t confident or comfortable at all in her house. I felt fat and ugly and underdressed and young and naïve.

“Really?” I ask.

“Absolutely,” she says.

“But I’m none of those things,” I say. “When I was at your house I felt…well…mostly I felt fat.”

“What?” she shrieks.

“Yeah. Everyone was standing around in their designer dresses talking about their diets and personal trainers and not making any moves toward the pastries.”

“Wow,” she says. “Well, for the record, I never thought you were fat.”

“Thanks,” I say.

I hear a crash in the background and she says, “Courtney, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. One of the kids just knocked over a lamp.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye!”

Now that I’m off the phone, I don’t know what to think. Melissa freaking Montgomery didn’t think I looked fat at that party where I definitely looked fat.

But then again, I’m pretty sure she’s the kind of woman who would never tell you if she thought you looked fat. Hell, she probably doesn’t even think mean thoughts. She probably only sees the good in people, like some sort of fairy-tale heroine.

There’s a knock on my door and then Becca pokes her head in. “Kate and I are going to go for a fro-yo run. Want anything?”

“Chocolate-vanilla twist in a small cup, please?”

“Just a small?”

“Yeah,” I say, even though what I really want is a brownie hot fudge sundae with extra whipped cream.

She narrows her eyes and says, “I’m getting you a large anyway. With rainbow sprinkles.”

I follow her out of my room and sit with Sophie and Willa as Kate and Becca head out.

“Who was on the phone?” Sophie asks.

“Well, reporter friend, it was Melissa Montgomery.”

“Whoa,” Willa says. “Like,
the
Melissa Montgomery? The one with the cancer foundation?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“I didn’t realize you two were on phone call terms,” Sophie says.

“It’s the first time she’s ever called me,” I say. “She wanted to see how I’m doing.”

“That was nice of her,” Willa says.

“Yeah. She never even considered that Adam cheated on me.”

“Because she’s met him,” Sophie says. “Everyone knows that hell would freeze over and pigs would fly and world peace would be established before he would cheat on you.”

“Seeing those photos still sucks,” I say.

“At least she sort of looks like you,” Willa says. “If you squint it’s hard to tell the two of you apart.”

“She’s a hotter version of me,” I say. “Did you see her thighs? They are crazy toned.”

“Seriously?” Sophie asks. “We’re talking about this person who looks squintily like you and may or may not have hired someone to take photos of her with Adam to create a tabloid frenzy, and you’re focusing on her toned thighs?”

“Wait, when did we decide she orchestrated the whole thing?”

“We didn’t,” Sophie says. “I just came up with that. In my head.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“What?” she asks defensively. “It could happen. It’s not like the paparazzi just show up at people’s houses in the early morning hours to take photos.”

“Photos of the party were all over social media,” Willa points out. “Some photographer probably staked it out just in case they caught anyone doing something ridiculous the next morning.”