Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (19 page)

M
y brother’s
head snaps back. When he looks back at me he wipes a small dribble of blood from his lips and locks his eyes on mine.

I expect to see a flash of anger, for this to turn into an all out war like when we were younger. Instead, he looks at me with resignation.

“I deserved that,” he holds up his hands, like he should’ve on the fucking night the cops arrested me for his bullshit.

“You deserve a lot worse than that,” I snap at him.

“You’re right, bro. You’re right. Can I come in? Please? Can we talk?”

My shoulders drop as my rage bubbles back down to normal anger. I step out of the doorway and give him access to my apartment, “Fine.”

Jake steps inside, carefully stepping over the destroyed beer bottle and we walk over to my kitchen. In the living room, my television is still loudly playing the post game news. I grab the remote and hit the mute button.

“You got a towel or something? You want me to clean that up?” Jake jerks his thumb toward the mess in my entryway.

I wordlessly toss him a dishcloth and he soaks up the beer and bags up the broken bottle inside the towel, tossing the entire hobo bag of splintered glass into my trash can.

“What do you want, Jake? I thought you were supposed to be shipping out?” I glance over at him and his swelling lip.

“I am. I mean, I was. I talked to my Commanding Officer and I’m not going now. I told them I have a problem. I admitted to the drugs and everything.”

“Shit, really?” I focus in on his eyes and it’s clear to see the shame swimming in the same blue eyes we share.

“Yeah,” he looks at his feet.

“Are you going to jail? Are you getting kicked out?”

“I don’t know any of that right now. Whatever happens, I’ll live with it. I’m the one who fucked this all up, now I gotta fix it.”

“You’re right you fucked it up,” I feel my face flush with heat as I think about how much damage he’s done. “I can’t believe you just took off like that! Left me to take the fall for your shit. That’s a real asshole move, Jake. You’re supposed to be my brother!” I feel my fist balling up tight at my side again.

“I’m not gonna argue with you, you’re right. I fucked up. Maybe I’ve got some shit to work out and I’ve been using coke to get through it. I dunno,” he shrugs. “Even still, that’s no excuse for what I did to you. I never should’ve left you there. I hung you out to dry and if you wanna punch me again, go ahead. I won’t fight you,” he nods to my fist.

I let my fingers fall flat and study my brother’s face. His whole life, he’s been the life of the party. An untameable wild man with an equal love of pussy and partying. When he showed up here with a mountain of coke, I figured it was just another way he likes to have a good time.

“How long have you been using?” I ask.

“Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. It’s been a while since I’ve gone through a day sober.” He runs his hand over the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m not using now. The coke I left in your car was the last shit I had.” He looks up at me.

“You’ve been doing cocaine every day? Why? Are you trying to kill yourself?” I frown at him as my anger turns to concern.

“Yeah, man, I dunno. I guess I’ve been using pretty much since my last deployment,” he explains, “I saw some shit that…” he shakes his head and blinks hard, “I just couldn’t unsee it. Coke made me stop reliving it. Made me feel like my old self, you know? Ready to have some fun. I just started using so I could shake the memories, but then I started needing it every day. Just to feel normal again,” he confesses.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to make this right. I’m gonna get my shit sorted out one way or the other with the military. If I have to spend time in cells, then so be it.” He stands taller and juts out his chin. “What can I do to fix this for you?” He levels me with his eyes.

“You gotta turn yourself in, man.”

“I already did. I told my CO,” he squints like he’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying.

“No, with the cops. I have a possession charge against me because I wouldn’t throw you under the bus with them. I told them the drugs weren’t mine, but I wouldn’t tell them whose they were.”

His face contorts as sadness and shame battle it out in his eyes, “You’re a better brother than I am,” he whispers.

“You’re fucking right about that!” My anger flushes my face again. I take a deep breath. I need to give him a chance to make this right. Prove he’s not a terrible fucking human being, just a man who made a stupid mistake. “It doesn’t have to stay that way,” I press him. “I can take you to the station right now so you can make this right for me.”

Jake looks at me and for the first time in my life, I see his eyes line with the tears he’s fighting back. I know deep inside him is still the guy I grew up with. My big, little brother. The giant who used to win every wrestling match. The kid who used to practice talking like me and walking like me, back when he thought I was the king of cool. I know he’s in there.

“You’ll come with me?” He looks up at me and I don’t see the man who fucked me over with a bag full of drugs in my car. I see the boy who was afraid to walk to school by himself back in Kindergarten. The kid who snuck into my room before the first day of school and softly asked me if I could please be there for him and walk with by his side.

“Absolutely,” I answer. Jake throws his arm around me in a hug.

“Thank you, bro.” I hear the warble in his voice and it makes me choke up too.

“It’s never too late to do the right thing. I’ll be with ya the whole way,” I reassure him.

“OK,” he pulls back and clears his throat. “Let’s go sort this shit out.”

“
H
ey
, do you two want a coffee or water or anything while you wait?” Police chief Harris pops his head into the room Jake and I are sitting in.

“Nah, I’m good,” I answer.

“Me too, thanks though,” Jake gives a nod.

Now that my brother has officially declared the drugs were his, the charges are being cleared from my name. However, now Jake has to wait in custody until the military police come pick him up. Luckily the officer let me keep him company until his escort arrives. He could’ve told me to hit the road. Hell, he could’ve put Jake in a cell to wait, but I think he admired my brother facing the music even though it will likely be the end of his elite forces career.

“Ok, well if you change your mind just let us know,” Harris gives a half-cocked smile and then slips back out the door, leaving us alone.

“So, what do you think is gonna happen to you?” I lean on the table between us and look into my little brother’s face.

“I don’t know,” Jake rubs his fingers back and forth over the crown of his head. “Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it though. It’s my mess and now I’ve gotta clean it up,” he shrugs his tight shoulders.

“Thanks for making this right, Jake. I was pretty choked when you left me high and dry like that. I’m glad you stepped up and sorted this shit out for me,” I watch as Jake’s face transforms into a frown.

“Don’t do that,” he shakes his head slowly.

“What?”

“Don’t thank me for finally doing what I should’ve done from the start. Really, if I wasn’t such a fuck-up, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. I shouldn’t have been on a coke binge, chasing pussy and trying to forget… well, you know,” he looks up at me and pain flashes in his blue eyes.

“Hey,” I answer gently, “I don’t know what you’ve been through. I don’t know what you’ve seen over there or what you’ve done, but I know what it’s like to have images that you can’t unsee. I understand how this all got so out of hand for you. I don’t want you thinking I’ve got any hard feelings, ok? Cause I don’t.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles to the table top. “Are you and Chelsea ok? I know all this shit is gonna blow over one way or the other. If I have to do time, if I get kicked out, whatever it ends up being, I can face it. But if you and Chelsea are messed up because of this, I’ll never forgive myself.” He searches my face for answers I don’t have.

I haven’t heard from Chelsea since she told me she needed some space. My heart clenches like a fist as I think about her walking away from me.

“I don’t know,” I confess. “She said she needed some time to think. It didn’t look good with me being left with another woman and all that.”

Jake nods, “listen, man. You gotta get her back. She’s perfect for you, Cameron. If you don’t get her back, you’ll never know real happiness. I can see it in the way you two look at each other. It’s cheesy and it’s amazing. That’s the real deal you have there. You can’t let her walk out of your life. You gotta fight for her.”

I know he’s right. In my heart, there’s no question that he’s speaking the truth. I can’t sleep without Chelsea beside me. My life is dulled down without her. Not just because I miss the way she feels, or smells, or tastes. Although, that goes without saying.

It’s the way her smile can make any ordinary second of the day like the brightest moment of my life. It’s how she leans her head against me when we watch tv. The way she puts her hands on her hips when she’s about to call me on my bullshit. It’s how she bites her lip when she wants me.

Being around her makes me want to stay up until the wee hours of every morning only to turn around and wake up at dawn, just so I can see her for more hours of the day. Without her, sleep isn’t restful, food tastes like cardboard, even colors feel less vibrant.

“I know,” I manage to get the two little words out around the lump in my throat.

“What are you going to do about it?” Jake presses me.

“I’m going to show her. Words are cheap, right? I could say sorry but that only goes so far. It’s like you, right now, you could’ve just asked me to forgive you. Instead, you showed me that you’re a good guy. You made it right with your actions. That’s what I’m going to do with Chelsea. I’m going to show her how much she means to me. I’m going to ask her to marry me,” I almost whisper the words.

“Seriously?” Jake’s face lights up.

“Yeah, she’s the one. The only one. She might tell me to get lost, but if I don’t try, well, it’s a regret I could never live with. I need her, man.” I’m not used to talking to Jake like this, it feels weird to say any of this out loud. Weird, and right. Like I’m finally putting words to what my heart has known forever.

“You got this, bro. I’m proud of you. You’ve really got it all, you know? You’ve done amazing, Cameron.”

“Well, we’ll see about having it all or not. She might say no.”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Man, I’d kill to have a chick as solid and beautiful as Chelsea look at me like that. She’s loves you. Never doubt that for a second.”

The door to the waiting room swings inward and draws our attention to the military police officers standing in the hall.

“Petty Officer Armstrong, come with me please.” The officer with bushy eyebrows and a stern look on his face demands.

I look at my brother. A man who has made mistakes, but who hasn’t? At heart, I know he’s a great guy. I’m proud of him. Jake looks at me, takes a deep breath and then rises to his feet. If he’s nervous right now, it doesn’t show on his face.

I stand up and watch as he follows his orders.

“Congratulations, Cameron,” he looks back through the door at me.

“For what?”

“Your engagement, man.” He smiles confidently.

“We’ll see,” I smile back.

“Catch you on the flip side, brother.” He nods at me. The officer gives him a nudge and Jake nods his head. He walks down the hall to his uncertain fate. I know whatever happens, he’ll be ok. I’ve never met a man braver than my little brother. Even in his fuck ups, he forges ahead.

I could use some of that bravery right now, because today I’m going to ask Chelsea Taylor to be my wife.

I
hate
how dark it is already. It’s only four-thirty in the afternoon and it’s already pitch black outside. This little bean growing inside me has me dragging my butt around on my best days. I’m not gonna lie, there have been many nights lately that I’ve been in bed by seven o’clock. I remember the old bedtime curfew well from my early childhood. Back then going to bed at seven felt like a punishment. These days, I’m blinking to keep my eyes open that late.

I pull up my street and notice the car already parked in my driveway. It doesn’t look the right shape to be Mack and Lauren’s or Mom’s. As I make my turn into the driveway and see the bright cherry red, it becomes instantly clear who’s waiting for me.

Cameron.

I push down the butterflies in my stomach, telling them to go migrate somewhere else. Throwing the car in park, my feet crunch in the snow as I make my way to the front door where Cameron waits.

“What’s that?” I point to the Christmas plant he’s holding.

“A poinsettia,” he answers, giving me an uncharacteristic shy smile. “I, uh, was gonna bring you roses, but felt like this might be more festive.” He hands me the red, leafy plant.

“Thanks,” I don’t give my lips permission to smile and yet, here I am grinning down at the gift.

“I also made you a snowman,” he points across the yard. Sure enough, there’s my very own version of Frosty guarding the front yard. “I had some time to kill,” he explains.

My mind flashes back to a trip to the beach my family took when I was five years old. There was this little boy who kept following me around the strip of sand giving me junk he’d found on the shore. Rocks, broken seashells, dirty feathers from seagulls. Each time he approached me, it was something different. I had no idea what to do with all the “gifts” and complained to my mother. I remember, she told me that was how boys tell you that they like you. Girls tell you with their words and affection and boys try to give you things they think will make you happy. I remember looking over the collection of sea trash differently, realizing that it was connected to his heart. The same way I look at the snowman and poinsettia in my hands right now.

I know he’s trying, but this boy, this man standing in front of me needs to do more than give me gifts. He needs to show me what’s in his heart.

“Cameron, why are you here?” I finally allow myself to look him straight in the eyes. I knew they’d make me weak, soften my resolve. A simple glimpse of his deep blue eyes makes my legs wobbly.

“I wanted to let you know that the investigation is finished. I was cleared of all charges today. Jake confessed to the drugs and the woman,” he stares into my eyes, “so I’ll be playing the Rose Bowl game.” He literally grows taller as he straightens up and lifts his chin high. He must feel like a huge burden has been lifted. All the rumors swirling around him have finally been laid to rest. His future is bright again. Almost as bright as that star Sirius he pointed out to me in his old treehouse that night.

“Good for you. I already knew though,” I confess. It would be impossible to be living in this city and not know about Cameron’s exoneration. It’s been all over the news, in the paper, hell even the other teachers were asking me about it in the staff room today.

“I told you I was innocent,” he steps toward me, as if he’s cleared everything up. Like this is all just water under the bridge now because his career is back on track.

“Cameron,” I step back from him, “the charges, the rumors, that was never what this was about. I didn’t take this time from you because of that.”

I watch Cameron battle with the confusion surrounding his brain. He looks at me like he’s trying to read a map, but he’s not exactly sure which way is north or south.

“Well, then what is all this about?” He swirls his finger in a circle between us, mimicking the cyclone of emotions I’m being swept away by right now inside me.

I hate that tears have already sprung to my eyes. My damned body is so out of control lately. I’ve always been what you’d call sensitive, but this little bean sprouting in my womb has brought me to new heights. Every Hallmark Christmas movie on tv has had me going through a box of Kleenex like I just watched Schindler’s List. Every sad song on the radio, every time I’ve watched a couple walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, fresh tears spring forth. It’s like I have an endless well of sentimentality to tap with every cheesy moment I’ve witnessed in life.

“It’s about the fact that I’ve never, ever come first. Not once, Cameron,” my voice hurts as I force my vocal chords to work. I keep trying to swallow the tears threatening to bombard me and am barely keeping them at bay.

“What? What do you mean?” He lays his hand on my shoulder and the warmth of comfort radiates through my body.

“I mean, something else has always meant more to you. First it was the other girls, then it was football,” I start counting off on my fingers, “then it was protecting your brother. If anything else has been happening in your life then it’s always meant more to you than me. I can’t live like that. I can’t be with someone who cares less about us than himself. Or his brother. Or his game. Or his old harem. I just can’t,” the tears slide down my cheeks. “Especially now,” I sob.

“Chelsea! That’s not true. You’ve always meant more to me than anything. Everything! Wait,” he scratches the stubble on his rugged jaw, “what do you mean by ‘us’? Why ‘especially now’?” He furrows his brow like someone struggling to make it through their calculus portion of the SAT’s.

I look at the way the moon glints off the snow under our feet, unable to look him in the eyes. I haven’t told him yet about my baby. About our baby. The miracle that I never thought I’d have.

“Cameron, I don’t know how you’re gonna take this,” I tell my boots, “but, I’m pregnant.” I look up at him and wince as he frowns deeply at me.

“You’re… wait, what?”

“I’m pregnant. With your child. I had the bloodwork done and an ultrasound. I’m definitely, 100% pregnant.” I spill my secret, the reason beneath my exhausted Mona Lisa smile. I wish it felt like a weight being lifted from my shoulders, but with his face downturned like that, it doesn’t. If anything, the burden of his disapproval is adding to the already heavy gravity around me.

“Pregnant?” He rolls the word over his tongue, like he’s trying to learn a new language. “You? But you can’t have kids. You told me…” his eyes search for the answers his mouth won’t ask.

“I didn’t lie to you. I was told I was sterile years ago, trust me, this,” I point to my belly, “was a complete shock. I didn’t believe my doctor so that’s why she gave me an ultrasound and Cameron,” I exclaim, “I heard the heartbeat! It was the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard. I still dream about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He presses his lips into a pencil thin line that makes my heart thud like I just walked through a haunted house.

“I didn’t know if you were ready for this. For us,” I rub my hand over my belly, finding comfort in the little bean growing inside me. “Do you remember when we first spent time together? That first night? I told you I couldn’t have children. Do you remember what you said?” I prod his memory.

“No, not exactly,” his face is unreadable.

“You told me that I was better off. That they were a pain in the ass, messy, gross and that it was a good thing I couldn’t have kids.” I paraphrase his words.

Cameron looks down at the snow so long I begin to wonder if he’s gone comatose on me. The frosty air nips at my nose, but I ignore my discomfort. I need to know, what is he thinking?

“Listen,” he finally disrupts the painful silence, “I know I said those things.” He nods at me, his fingers press into his jacket pocket. “I said it because…”

“Because it was the nice thing to say to a barren girl?” I interrupt.

“No,” he throws his hand up like a stop sign at a school crossing. “I didn’t know it at the time, Chelsea, but the reason I said those things wasn’t because I didn’t want children. It was because I was trying to comfort the love of my life. I wanted to make her, to make you,” he stresses, “feel better, because even then, even that first night, I knew I fucking loved you.” He swallows hard and I feel my chin quiver at his confession.

“Really?” My eyes line with tears as I search his face. All the bravado, the smirkiness, the usual act… it’s gone. All I can see is raw emotion staring back at me, like a mirror.

“Yes,” his voice is heavy, burdened with truth. “Chelsea, listen to me. I know I didn’t put you, put us,” he stresses, “first enough. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

My lips turn down as my eyebrows soar up. The pain of being a backburner girl in the life of man I’ve loved from day one hurts. It’s a deeper pain than the year I broke my arm falling off a zip line in my friend’s backyard. It burns deeper than sticking my hand against coals of a fire. Cameron has been first in my life since our first night. To struggle to be even next to the other things he’s put ahead of me all this time has shredded my soul.

“I know,” I answer shakily.

“I think I’ve been hanging around a bunch of college kids so much, I forgot that I’m a man. Not a damned child. Chelsea,” he slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box.

I don’t have time to react before he slides down to one knee. I want to squeal. I want to jump up and down. Instead, I watch in fascinated silence.

“Chelsea, you’re the only woman I’ve ever met that made me want to be a better man. I wake up everyday thinking about how I can do better, how I can be better, just so I can justify your love. I know I haven’t always been the best at showing you, but please… please, let me spend every single day of my life making up for my foolish mistake. Let me spend what’s left of my time here on earth showing you, showing both of you,” his hand on my belly gently, “the man I know I can be. The man you’ve helped me become,” he leans his forehead against my barely protruding belly and holds the open box up high, under my face.

Inside gleams a diamond ring I’d never picture myself wearing. It’s too big. Too expensive. Too flashy. And yet, it’s perfect. It’s exactly the yin and yang of Cameron and me. His flash with my class.

“Yes,” I answer simply. My hand trembles as I hold it out for him. He slides the ring over my finger gently and I watch as each inch he pushes the ring down my finger declares me as his fiancée rather than girlfriend, backburner girl or groupie.

I will be Cameron Armstrong’s wife. The mother of his child. The love of his life and he mine.

He stands back up in the snow and quickly slides his hands under my body, lifting me from the ground and holding me over the snow.

“How about I warm you up, Mrs. Armstrong,” he murmurs.

“I think I’d like that,” I flutter my eyelashes at him.

As he opens the door and walks me over the threshold for the first time in my life, I feel whole. With a man who wants me for eternity and our baby growing in my womb, this feels like a fairy tale come true. I nuzzle in against his neck and let myself enjoy the moment. A moment I know I will cherish in my heart for years to come. But only one of many that Cameron Armstrong, my future husband, father of my child, will surprise me with from now until I die.