Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (30 page)

“
A
nd that’s pretty much
it,” Cameron walks us back out on the field. It’s not like there’s a lot of behind the scenes besides the locker room and the coach’s office. “What do you think, Chris? You wanna play college ball one day?” Cameron scoops up a football from the abandoned mesh sack of them at the players’ entrance to the field.

“For sure. I mean, first I want to make the middle school team though,” Chris looks around the nearly empty stadium in awe.

“You’re not in middle school yet? Man, how old are you? Someone’s been eating their Wheaties!” Armstrong chuckles at his own joke and Chris looks up at him with question marks in his eyes. “Never mind,” he mumbles, realizing the reference is lost on his young audience.

“I’m nine, in grade four. Well, I was in grade four anyway. Till I got kicked out of school.”

“Kicked out? What for?” Armstrong was never one for turning down gossip. It’s good to see some things don’t change.

“I dunno, I set off some cherry bombs in the toilets and the principal freaked out.” Chris shrugs.

“Well, that sounds like a dumb reason to get expelled, but I don’t know much about that. I do know that you’ll never play college ball if you don’t get into middle school. Hey, you two want to toss the ball around a bit out here?” Armstrong holds the football up in his hand and Chris’s eyes light up.

“Can we?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s do it.” Armstrong jogs about ten feet away and I do the same in the other direction until the three of us are in a triangle.

Cameron tosses the ball to Chris and he catches it effortlessly. “Great catch!” Cameron encourages him. Chris stands a little taller and chucks the ball my way.

I cradle the ball in my arms before tossing it back Cameron’s way.

“Thanks. And, I know that I need to get back in school. I’m gonna try not to mess it up when I get back in,” Chris catches the ball.

“I had to go to some group thing for kids who lost their parents and they told me that I haven’t had closure yet, or whatever. I dunno.” Chris chucks the ball at me and looks at his feet. “I don’t really know what they meant.”

My hand freezes in mid-air with the ball in it and I look over at Cameron. I talked to him ahead of time about Chris’s situation, so this isn’t news to him, but he’s not letting on.

“You lost your dad? I’m really sorry to hear that,” I can hear that the sentiment is heartfelt.

“Yeah, I haven’t said it yet, but I’m sorry you had to go through that shit,” I agree. “That’s an unfair hand you got dealt, Armstrong and I know how important it is to get closure though. Don’t we?” I chuck the ball back at my old Corporal.

“Yeah, man. That’s no lie.” He nods.

“You know, when I first got back from the war, I was really struggling with closure too. I lost some great men over there. Men I’d trust with my life. I did trust them with my life, and I felt like I let them down when I stepped back on U.S. soil and they didn’t.” I confess and for a moment, no one remembers to pass the ball. Instead, Chris and Cameron simply listen respectfully.

“What did you do? To get closure, I mean?” Chris prods and I’m grateful for the interruption in where my dark thoughts were heading.

“Hmm? Oh, I visited their graves and talked to them,” Chris looks at me like I just grew another head.

“What?” he sounds like he thinks I’m pulling his leg.

“No, really. I mean, it’s not like I thought they would answer me. I’m not crazy,” I try to explain, “I just needed to talk to them though. To tell them I was sorry I let them down and that I let their families down. I had to tell them how it was an honor to serve with them, and that I wouldn’t forget them.” My voice grows thick and I swallow hard, trying to push down the memory with it. “It really helped.” I admit to the ground.

I look up and Armstrong is watching me closely. He seems to suddenly remember that he’s still holding the ball and he throws it over to Chris. “You know what, man? I did the same thing.”

“Really?” Chris looks at him, tilting his head.

“Yeah, I went to the grave of my old buddy. I had to say good-bye to him, you know? I wanted to let him know that I got out of the military and came here,” he points to the empty seats surrounding us. “I don’t know why, but it really worked. I felt peace after that. Like I was finally closing a door on that part of my life.”

Chris looks at the ball in his hand, then at Armstrong and I. We’ve obviously given him something to chew on.

“I dunno if that would work for me,” he talks to the football. Armstrong walks in toward Chris and I follow his lead. I clap my hand on the boy’s back dragging him out of the dark place I can see him going to, like he just did for me.

“Hey, maybe talking to your dad at his grave won’t be the way for you. I’m just saying it worked for me. You gotta do what feels right for you, ok?” I explain gently.

“It’s true,” Cameron interrupts, “whatever you’ve got to do, just get that closure though. It’s the only way you can move on and keep living, man.”

Chris nods, but doesn’t respond. I wonder if it’s because he can’t trust his voice right now. I decide that’s probably our cue to get going. Besides, the ladies are waiting in the car for us.

“We should probably get moving, Armstrong.” I step out to shake his hand. “Thanks for this,” We shake hands, the same hands we fought to save each other’s lives with. The man who told me I was as good as a blood brother to him. Only now, I’m ready to hear it.

“Anytime, Captain.” He smiles at me. “Hey, Chris,” he looks over at Lauren’s son, “you wanna keep that ball?”

That does it. Chris’s crestfallen face forms back into the cheerful smile he had when we started this tour. Thank God. I didn’t want to depress him. Just the opposite, really.

“Yeah? That would be cool. Thanks!” Chris clutches the football like he was just given a diamond.

“No problem. Just remember to keep working that arm, ok? And, no matter how you gotta do it, get that closure. You’ll feel like you’ve been given a new life when you do.” Cameron sticks out his hand to shake Chris’s and I can’t help but feel a strange twinge of pride when the boy returns the handshake.

“I will.” From the look in his eyes, I think we’ve done some good for him today. At least, I hope we have. He looks determined, maybe this is what he needed to turn a new leaf. No child deserves the tragedy and upheaval that Chris has had to deal with. I hope that this is the beginning of being able to put it behind him.

And I find myself hoping that I’ll be able to keep being there for him, helping to guide him through it in the future.

“
D
o
you remember that Halloween when my father caught you and your friends trying to t.p. my house?” Heat flushes through my cheeks as I laugh at the memory. Of course, the diminishing bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table probably has something to do with it.

“Oh, man. How could I forget? Your dad was so pissed. I thought he was gonna hand me my ass in a sling.” Mack’s eyes twinkle as he throws his head back and laughs. “I would’ve deserved it though.”

“Nah, his bark was worse than his bite, but yeah, he caught you red-handed.”

“We were so dumb about it too,” he runs his palm over his beard, “I mean, we had a laundry basket of toilet paper.” He shakes his head and then takes another sip of the white wine we’re polishing off.

After they finally came out to the car, Chris and Mack were joking around like lifelong friends. It did my heart good to see my boy so relaxed and happy again. I guess none of us were in a hurry to say goodbye. After Mack agreed to come over for dinner, he and Chris went outside and tossed the Frisbee around until the night sky grew chilly. Then they decided to warm up a bit by playing video games, talking smack the whole time. I swear, for a couple of hours, I wasn’t sure if I had one kid or two.

Chris went to bed hours ago, but Mack and I are still up, basking in the glow of our sentimentality. That glow burns a lot brighter when you pop the cork on the third bottle of chardonnay.

“I still remember what he said, too,” Mack continues. He puts his glass down on the table and straightens up as he imitates my father’s posture. “One of you boys better have a serious bowel problem,” Mack drops his voice like dad’s signature baritone. “Because if I find you throwing that toilet paper on my property, you’re gonna need every single sheet when I beat the shit out of each of you.”

Laughter rises up from my belly like bubbles in a glass of champagne. It’s nice to be able to laugh over memories of dad now. When the heart attack first took him, every thought of him stung. Actually, it feels good to let loose and laugh about anything again. With the year I’ve had, I was beginning to forget what feeling anything was like. Unless you count numbness and exhaustion. I was starting to believe those would be the only sensations I would ever have again.

“That was dad,” I smile and hold my glass up in the air, “bless his soul.” Mack closes his eyes and nods in a silent blessing. “Why were you trying to t.p. my house anyway? We were friends for a while by that point.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was young and didn’t know how to talk about feelings and stuff back then. I guess some things never change, huh?” He looks over at me and winks.

Mack is many things, but an open book isn’t one of them.

“What were we,” he continues, “Chris’s age?” He slides his hand over my shoulders casually and resting my head against the crook of his arm feels like home.

“Yep, I’d say we were right around there,” I agree. Sitting back up, I swallow the last mouthful of my wine and put the glass down on the table. I quickly snuggle back against him, breathing in his scent shamelessly.

“I guess it’s probably because I loved you even then, but I didn’t know how to tell you.” His voice drops, but every word is etched into my eardrums and tattooed onto my heart.

Love me, even then? Does that mean he still…? I look into Mack’s face searching for meaning in the words he hasn’t spoken.

“Should I call you a cab soon? I don’t want my co-workers wagging their tongues about having you out all night,” I look over at the clock. It’s probably already too late for that, but him staying the night certainly won’t help.

“Why would they gossip about me being with you? Don’t you know I went to visit my great-aunt Mildred for the weekend? You’d love her, she’s such a sweetheart,” his eyes glint mischievously.

“Mildred? You don’t have a… oh, I get it,” I have a bimbo moment. I’m not sure if it’s because of the wine or if looking at Mack is distracting me. That’s not true. I know what’s clouding my head, not to mention my judgement, and it ain’t the chardonnay.

He’s gorgeous. I can’t pry my eyes off his blues. With a few drinks in him, they’re the color of a crisp autumn sky. Like a tumbling red maple leaf, I’m being tossed around, trusting him to safely place me on solid ground.

“Well, you can stay here then,” I look down at his lips. Why are they so damned distracting? “But, you’re gonna need to crash on the couch. I don’t want to confuse Chris.” I tell him honestly.

“I can respect that.”

His broad hand slides over the side of my face and under my chin. My heartbeat quickens as my eyes travel down to his pink lips. Suddenly, those perfect lips are crushing mine in a bruising kiss. I can feel the urgency of his desire and the longing on his tongue.

Can he feel how my body craves him?

How my soul aches for him?

How my heart beats his name?

M
ack kisses
a trail of burning desire down the tender spot on my neck. I close my eyes, making the heat from his lips build an electric buzz in my body. Each kiss sends pulses of electricity to my nipples, then down to my belly and it spreads down further, blossoming between my legs.

Damn, only Mack could make me so wet from a kiss. A simple kiss was all it ever took to make me crazy. I’ve never been able to resist his lips.

“I can’t wait to taste every single inch of you,” Mack growls. I can feel his teeth graze my neck and a little shiver runs down my spine.

“Every inch, huh?” I smirk at the idea. A girl could do worse than having Mack “Captain America” Forrester worshipping her body. I doubt she could ever do better actually.

“Every inch,” he continues kissing down along my collar bone, his fingers sliding up under the hem of my shirt. “From here,” his fingertip grazes over my bra and I press my breasts against him, greedy for more. “All the way to here,” he drags his hand down over my belly, over my ass and down my legs to my ankles. “Do you think I’m forgetting anywhere?” he teases me and my pussy clenches tight with anticipation.

“Maybe,” I breathe.

“How about here,” his fingers softly make their way back up my leg and stop between my thighs. “I’m gonna love eating your sweet pussy, Lauren.” Mack gives me a quick kiss on my neck and starts tugging my shirt up over my belly to free me. But my body seems to have other plans.

Please, not now.

“Uh, Mack?” I creak.

“Yeah?” He pulls my shirt up over my breasts, exposing my lavender bra.

“I, uh, I’ve had too much wine. I need to use the washroom.” I squirm, hating my pathetic bladder right now. Worst timing ever.

Mack sits back and looks up at me, “God, Lauren, you look horrified,” he smirks. “It’s no biggie, go pee. I’m not going anywhere.” He sits back into the couch looking like he’s been sitting on it since the day I bought it. He looks so perfectly comfortable in my home, like he’s always been there. Like he always will be.

“I’m not horrified,” I lie. “I just didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Mack suddenly grabs my hand and pulls it between his legs, resting it on his hard cock pressing against his fly. I gasp, but don’t try to pull it back.

“See? You couldn’t possibly ruin the mood. Now go, hurry back.”

Reluctantly, I pull my hand back and get my feet under me. Seriously hating my bladder even more after that. Damn, it seems like his muscles, tattoos and ego aren’t the only things that’ve grown. His cock is hard, heavy and huge!

I scurry over to the stairs and jump up them like a gazelle, two at a time. I think I hear Mack laughing at me from the living room, but I hurry into the bathroom too quickly to say for sure.

Still cursing the wine and my bladder, I sit down and pee as fast as I can. With the toilet still flushing, I rinse my hands and see myself in the mirror for the first time tonight. I look ten years younger! I can’t believe how much youth has returned to my eyes, I can’t help but smile at my reflection. Mack isn’t just good for my body, he’s good for my soul. And my soul doesn’t want to waste another second staring at myself in the mirror.

Heading out the door, I start for the stairs but stop in my tracks. I should check in on Chris first. It’s not like when he was a baby and I used to stand over his crib watching him sleep. However, this has been a difficult time for him the past few weeks. I mean, seeing just tiny glimpses of my old son peaking through from behind the tumultuous clouds of pain he’s been hiding behind for a year has given my heart so much hope. I just pray that it lasts. I pad lightly down the hall and sneak a quick look in his room. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of his space as I search for his bed … it’s empty!

Wait, where is he? I look around his room, snapping my head around so fast that it hurts my neck. He’s not there. I flip on his light, “Chris? Chris!” No answer. Instead, his window is gaping open, like a mouth trying to shout the answers to where my son went.

His room is empty.

Cold fear spreads through my stomach as I turn on my heel and run to my room in search of my son. Flicking the switch to my light, it’s clear that he hasn’t been in my room at all, let alone to sleep.

“Chris?” My voice is rising with the panic rising in my chest. Lord, where is he?

I thump back down the stairs, and stop at the bottom. Mack is standing over by the mantle looking at our family photos. One family photo in particular. The large double framed collage of pictures showing the early years of my time with Chris. There is photo after photo of only my son and I at the park, on birthdays, Christmases, just enjoying life together. Just the two of us. That’s how it was until he was three. Mack’s eyes slide over to the next frame, the picture of my wedding day, where Joel, Chris and I are smiling at the camera broadly. I remember feeling relieved when Joel and I got married. Relieved that he was a good man who wanted to take Chris and I on. Who wanted to look after us, care for us.

I don’t have time to wonder if Mack is putting the story together. I don’t have time to explain that Joel is absent from years’ worth of pictures because he wasn’t in our lives then. I don’t have time because right now, his son is missing and we need to find him.

“Mack!” His head snaps up at the edge in my tone.

“Sorry, I was just looking around a bit,” he starts to explain.

“That’s fine,” I hold out my hand to stop him from explaining. I don’t really care right now. “Mack, we need to call the cops! Chris is gone. Oh my God, it’s almost midnight! Where could he be? Oh my God!” Tears swell up in the corners of my eyes.

“Are you sure?” Mack doesn’t wait for me to answer, he lunges up the stairs and I can hear his prosthetic thump against the floor above as he searches the rooms.

I grab the phone wondering if I should call the police department or 9-1-1. I can hear Mack rush back down the stairs and close the distance between us.

“Lauren! Where is Joel buried?” Mack interrupts my disjointed thoughts.

“What?” My mind can’t process his words. They don’t make sense to me. I don’t care about Joel right now; I want to find Chris. “What are you talking about?”

“I know where he is, I’m going to go get him, ok? Tell me, please, where is Joel buried?” Mack lays a hand on my shoulder and it’s heavy. It brings me back from the edge. It calms me.

The grave is on Magnolia Lane, it’s only five blocks north. At the Lewis cemetery. You think he’s there? Why?”

“I know he is. Stay here in case he comes back, ok? I’m going to go get him. I promise. If he’s not there then I’ll call you, but I think he is.” Mack gives out his orders as he grabs his things and heads out the door. Once a soldier always a soldier.

“Ok, Mack, are you sure? I think I should call the police. What if something happened to him.” The tears spill over and wet my face, but I don’t care.

“Hey,” Mack grabs my shoulders and looks down into my face, “I told you, I promise I’ll get him. Ok? You can trust my word, you know that. Please, try to calm down a little and I’ll be back soon. I’ll take care of this. I promise.” He stresses and somehow it actually does slow my heartbeat a little from the borderline heart attack I’m having.

“Ok,” I answer and Mack gives me a quick peck on the forehead and disappears out the front door.

“I love you,” I whisper to the door shutting in my face. Please, Lord, let him bring back my baby. Please, let this all be ok.