Running Home to You (The Running Series) (8 page)

“This time is different, Juliette.  You’re not going to be so understanding when I tell you what they’re reporting,” he explains, shaking his head in disbelief.

Just as I’m about to climb onto his lap and extract a confession from him, his phone beeps with an in-coming text.  Evan stands up, retrieves the phone from his pocket, and swipes the screen.  After briefly scanning the image, he throws his phone on the bed and walks away.

I pick up the phone wondering what could have Evan so worked up.  When I look at the screen, I see a picture of the two of us in Manhattan two days ago.  Someone must have taken our picture as we left the studio at Rockefeller Center.  I don’t understand.  There have been hundreds of pictures taken of us together.  How could he possibly be upset about another innocent photograph?

“Evan, I don’t understand.  It’s just a picture from Thursday night.  Why are you so upset?” I question.

“Look carefully, Juliette.  Don’t you see what we’re doing?  What’s in your hand?” he rebukes.

I examine the photograph more closely.  I pinch the screen, trying to zoom in on my hand.  The image is blurry, but I can clearly see the Tylenol in my hand, passing them along to Evan.  But I still don’t understand his reaction to this harmless picture.  “Evan, I don’t get it.  I’m just giving you a couple of pills.”  The moment the words leave my mouth, the dots are immediately connected and I think I’ve pieced the puzzle together.  “I gave you pills.  That’s it, isn’t it?  They think I’m feeding you drugs, don’t they?”  He nods wordlessly.

It’s clear that Evan either doesn’t want to tell me anymore, or he can’t repeat what Adam told him.  I walk over to the closet and fish my iPad out of my bag.  Once I connect to the Internet, I Google a few key terms, “Evan McGuire, Juliette Fletcher, drugs” and immediately the screen fills with new articles.  There have been dozens of reports filed in just the last twelve hours.  I click on the first link, and it takes me to the Huffington Post Sports page.  The headline reads: 
Miraculous Recovery or Successful Doping?
Just beneath the headline is an image of me handing Evan two white tablets from an unmarked medicine bottle. 

As I skim through the article, I discover that only hours after the Sentinels released the news that Evan was released to begin training earlier than expected, a picture was leaked of him taking an unknown substance supplied by his girlfriend.  Suspicions are raised about whether or not the unknown pills could possibly be steroids.  It goes on to quote studies that show how anabolic steroid treatment enhances the capacity to regenerate muscle tissue and could be used to assist in the healing of injuries, particularly sports related injuries. 

The article continues by interviewing an orthopedic physician specializing in sports medicine on the typical healing period for tendon, ligament, and nerve injuries to the hand.  Dr. Munoz from the Cleveland Clinic claims that based on what she’s read and heard about Evan’s injury, a typical recovery period could take as long as twelve weeks.  She adds her own conjecture about scenarios that could assist and speed the process along, the leading contender being use of anabolic steroids.  What the article does not state is the fact that Dr. Munoz has never met Evan, nor has she ever examined him or read his medical files.

The last to be interviewed for the Huff Post article is an unnamed source who claims to be “in close and constant contact” with the couple who reports that “Evan is under pressure from Juliette to get back onto the field as quickly as possible in order to keep the money flowing while she burns through Evan’s earnings.”  The only fact they get correct is the fact that Evan is, indeed, helping to finance my business venture, and that at this time, there is no money coming in, but lots of money going out.  What it fails to mention is the fact that I cosigned the loan at the bank and that every dollar spent is not just coming out of Evan’s wallet, but mine as well.

I pull up a few more articles, and some are more direct in their accusations.  One sports blogger whose name I’ve never heard before comes right out and suggests that because I spent time in Colorado, which has less restrictive drug laws, there is no doubt that I must be coercing Evan to take steroids.  He goes onto suggest that Evan is a ‘dope for taking dope’, because the mandatory drug testing done in the NFL will prove his drug use and cause his immediate suspension without pay.

I cannot read any more articles written by reporters who can’t be bothered to check their sources.  Or by bloggers who sit in the comforts of their parents’ basement without ever having met a professional athlete or spoken with a single source involved in the story, yet claim to have special knowledge.  I close my tablet and lay back on the bed, trying to sort all the recent developments into perspective.

As I stare at the ceiling, I recall other articles of late that claim Evan will never recover enough to return to the NFL.  Some state that Evan doesn’t even want to return, that all his focus and energy is now being placed on his new business, Rush Dessert Bar.  Total crap. He didn’t react nearly so strongly to any of those bullshit articles when they were printed.  Why now?  Why is this piece of trash affecting him so profoundly?  Is it because it paints me as a drug pusher and money-grubbing leech?

Evan crawls onto the bed with me and I curl into him.  Our bodies know each other so well and fit together so perfectly, it’s like his body was made just for me.  His strong arms wrap completely around me and I reach out to stroke his arms that hold me tight.  He kisses me gently on my neck, and then speaks softly into my ear, “I’m so sorry you got caught in the middle of this.  Will you ever forgive me?”

“You
are
a dope if you think this would change a thing.  I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what those idiots write about.  We both know you’re not taking steroids.  I’m certainly not supplying you with any drugs, that’s for sure!  Why do you care so much?” I ask Evan.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, but Adam is working on getting me a few big endorsement deals.  We’ve been getting such positive press lately that Adam thought it was the perfect time to capitalize on my public perception.  I don’t want to jinx it by mentioning the companies out loud, but one is for a big sports drink company and the other is for a major sports shoe and clothing corporation.  The money from those deals could keep the restaurant in the black for over a year, Juliette.  If they sense even a hint of illicit behavior, I can kiss those contracts good-bye.”  I can hear the despondency in his voice.  “I don’t know how much more I can take.  It’s too damned much.”

I can feel his chest heave heavily as he holds me close.  His breathing is now ragged, and I hear him sniffling.  I wriggle from his tight embrace and turn around to look into his eyes.  My heart breaks when I look into his beautiful blue eyes and see the sadness gazing back at me.  I’ve never seen Evan like this, vulnerable and fragile, just like the beautiful orchids sitting on the table.  A lone tear escapes down his cheek and I lean in to kiss it away.

Still struggling to maintain composure, Evan allows me to take the lead.  I trail kisses along his jaw, under his chin, then upon his lips.  I gently slide my tongue along the seam of his upper lip.  He closes his eyes and trembles, his breath beginning to slow.  He speaks to me without opening his eyes.  “Juliette, how could you possibly?  After all that I’ve dragged you through?  You still ...”  His voice trails off as another tear rolls down his cheek.

I pause, but not for long.  “Evan, you are my life and my world.  When you hurt, I hurt.  When you suffer, I suffer.  We are in this together for the long haul.  It would take a lot more than a few misguided blogs and unfounded news reports to change a single fucking thing.”  I bring my lips back to his glorious skin when he presses his lips onto mine. 

The kiss is soft, gentle, and full of emotion.  He breaks away just long enough to say, “Juliette, I need you.  I need your strength.  I need your faith.  But most of all, I need your love.”

A sense of urgency takes us both, and we hurry to remove the threads of cotton fabric that separate us.  The moment his bare skin slides up against mine, I am on fire, my body burning beneath his touch.  With one swift thrust, he’s inside me.

Hours later, when I wake in the early hours of the new day, before the sun has even risen, I find myself wrapped tightly in Evan’s warm embrace.  He’s sound asleep.  He looks so relaxed as he sleeps, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.  It reminds me of our first nights together, when he was so strong and certain, patient and caring, calm and contented.  I prop my head on my hand and study the irresistible man who shares my bed.  I raise my hand to brush the hair from his face when he wakes.  A smile slowly etches itself across his face as looks into my eyes.

“Good morning, chief.  Glad to see you’re in a good mood today,” I say as I place a soft kiss upon his lips.

“Damn right, I am.  We have this room for a few more hours, Juliette.  And I know exactly how I would like to spend them.”  He rubs up against me with a devilish look upon his face.  Without a word, he gently strokes my hair, trailing kisses across my shoulders.  I run my fingers across the defined lines of his chest, tracing the path of his treasure trail, stopping as his body shivers beneath my touch.

Silently, our hands explore and seek pleasure while our mouths remain silent.  Soft kisses express the multitude of emotions we share as we gaze deeply into each other’s eyes.  Our naked bodies remain completely exposed to each other, surrendering to the other for hours of pleasure and passion.  I can't contain the ferocious swell of emotion that needs release - the love and need, as well as the anger and fear about what awaits us when we leave this refuge. 

One touch of Evan’s gentle tongue on my burning hot skin wipes all the heavy thoughts from my mind, leaving only one – how much more of this pleasant torture can I endure before I demand he take me completely.

By noon we are packed, checked out of our room, and in Evan’s Porsche headed directly to Adam’s house.  I don’t know what awaits us, but I know that we’re ready for whatever obstacles are thrown in our path.

Evan calls Adam to tell him we’re on the way using the Bluetooth connection with his car stereo, allowing me to listen in to their conversation. 

“Okay, Evan, tell me – have you been drug tested during preseason camp yet?” Adam asks.

“No.  Some of the other guys have, but not me.  Not yet, anyway,” Evan explains.

Adam doesn’t seem surprised, “That’s probably because you’re not really practicing with the team right now.  How would you feel about voluntarily submitting to an immediate drug screening?”

When Evan readily agrees, Adam tells him to go directly to the stadium and wait for one of the technicians from the National Center for Drug Free Sport to meet him there.  He’s already arranged for Evan to take urine tests today to put the rumors to rest.  He explains to us that it’s best to let the league handle this and to just carry on as usual.  He doesn’t think we should make a big deal about it and give the rumors mills any attention whatsoever.  The moment Evan speaks out about it, it will become newsworthy, but right now, it’s just gossip and innuendo. 

When we arrive the technicians are already there waiting for Evan in the team’s offices.  The entire procedure takes less than an hour.  After we leave the stadium, Evan drops me off at Rush, and then heads over to Adam’s house to let off a little steam.  The boys are going to work out together for a few hours, then throw a football around on the high school field.  Evan’s mood seems to be lifting and I am grateful for it.

I
arrive at the dessert bar, and the restaurant is a flurry of activity.  The entire staff is present and prepping for tomorrow’s big day, our Soft Opening.  It’s great to see everyone here in uniform working together as a cohesive team.  Emmy notices me first, and she comes running out from behind the bar to greet me.  “Hey, girl.  How was your day in Atlantic City?”

“I don’t know, Emmy.  Evan’s been acting really weird lately.  One minute he’s preoccupied with his work, the next minute he’s all hearts and flowers.  One minute he’s happy, the next he’s on the verge of tears.  I’m trying hard to be understanding and supportive, but it’s not easy,” I tell her.

Sensing my stress, Emmy leans in and gives me a big hug, then holds me at arm’s length and tells me, “Hang in there, Jette.  Stick with him.  Wait it out.  Things will get better, you’ll see.”  She grabs me by the hand, and makes me sit at the bar.  She scurries behind the bar, joining Derek and the other bartenders.

Derek stops what he’s doing and saunters over to greet me.  “Hello, miss.  Welcome to Rush Dessert Bar.  My name is Derek.  You’re looking very lovely this evening.  Would you care to try one of our house specialties tonight?”  Derek is staring at me with a silly grin on his face waiting for my reaction.

I decide to play along.  “Thank you, Dominic is it?  I’m definitely in the mood to try something new today.”  I place my elbows on the bar and lean in a little closer, “What do you recommend?  I’d love to hear what your specialty is.  I’m sure it’s mouth-watering good.”