The Journey Collection (23 page)

Travis blew out a heavy breath. “I hope so. There’s so much riding on whether or not I pass. If I don’t . . .” Shaking his head, he sighed. “I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I don’t pass.”

“Then don’t,” she chirped. “It’s not like we don’t have other things to think about.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Less than two months, and then you’re mine.”

“I’m yours now,” she giggled.

“Officially,” Travis murmured. “You’ll be mine officially.”

***

Chapter Eight

Facing the Boss

Travis waited in a constant state of anxiety for the results of his exam. One day turned into two, and then three shifted into a week. Before he knew it, a month had passed, and Travis still hadn’t learned his fate. As each day went by, he felt himself giving into self-doubt more and more. His future felt too dependent on the results of that single exam.

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep pulling on your hair,” Penelope snickered when he reached up to tug on his curls again while they sat at the dining room table together.

He was supposed to be helping her with the seating chart for the wedding, but he couldn’t focus. A month — thirty long days — and he still didn’t know if he’d be able to accept the coaching job at the high school.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Baby, you have to relax.” She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m serious — you’re gonna get an ulcer or have a heart attack if you don’t stop stressing.”

“Says the woman who’s woken up in her sleep screaming because she had a dream that the wrong flowers were sent in for the wedding,” Travis countered.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Touché. But, in my defense, daisies aren’t even close to lilies, and they were the wrong color and there weren’t enough, either.”

“It’s not like I mean to be stressing out. I just can’t stop worrying about it. Shouldn’t I have heard something by now? Dad said he would push my test through so I would get the results sooner, but, yeah, not happening.” Travis huffed. “I failed. There’s no point in denying it.”

“Are you done?” Penelope asked, leaning away from him and folding her arms in front of her chest.

He frowned. “Done what?”

“Done throwing your little pity party,” she exclaimed. “Travis, babe, I know you’re terrified that you might not have passed. And I wish I could tell you that you did and make you believe it, but I can’t. There’s no guarantee that you passed, and I won’t blow smoke up your ass about it. I will say this, though: regardless of how you did, I’m still gonna love you.”

Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders. “I know you will. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

He shifted his eyes to the table. “I never thought about being a teacher before because, well, the game was everything to me. But I want it bad, Penelope.”

She smiled. “And you’ve never failed at something that you really wanted, have you?”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Travis whined.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “Just stating a fact.”

“Not when it’s something that I wanted bad enough. When I went to UT, I went from being the star quarterback to being a possible second string backup. The upper classmen didn’t give a rat’s ass that I’d led our team to the title. Hell, most of them had, too.”

“But you did earn the starting spot. How? Because you didn’t give up,” Penelope stated.

“You’re right, I didn’t give up. I fought tooth and nail for it, but I got it. But what if I didn’t do enough this time?” The words tumbled out of his mouth with a tremble.

“Then the wedding is off.” When Travis gasped, Penelope rolled her eyes. “Be serious, babe. It won’t be the end of the world if you don’t pass.”

“No, I know that, but I want to be able to teach those boys to love the game. I can’t do that if I can’t accept the job.”

“No — you can’t do that and get paid for it,” Penelope corrected him. “You’ve already inspired a lot of those boys to keep fighting. They wouldn’t have gotten all the way to the title if you hadn’t told them they could do it. And they wouldn’t have won if you hadn’t gone into that locker room and told them to get their heads out of their butts and get the job done.”

“It’s not the same,” Travis muttered. “From the sidelines, it’s just some old player, lecturing them about my glory days.”

“Yeah, just some old, professional football player with bald spots.” Penelope grabbed Travis’s hand before he could drag it through his hair again. “I’m not a big fan of bald men, honey, and I don’t think you could pull off a comb over, not with those bouncy curls.”

He laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop. How about if I kiss you instead?”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “That sounds like a much better plan.”

Travis leaned over and found her mouth awaiting his. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her into his lap, taking the opportunity when she moaned to slip his tongue between her lips. She stroked his tongue with her own, tangling her fingers into his hair. He needed more — craved to be closer to the woman who’d given her heart and soul to him. But as fate would have it, the sound of someone clearing his throat echoed throughout the room. Travis tore his lips away from Penelope’s and found Max and Russ standing on the other side of the table. In Russ’s hand was a small, white envelope.

“Sorry,” Russ muttered, looking anywhere but at Travis and Penelope. “Max let me in.”

“It’s fine.” Penelope moved back into her chair. “What do you have there?”

“Um,” Russ said, before casting a nervous glance at Travis.

“Those are my results, right?” Travis stood up, dragging the palms of his hands down the sides of his jeans.

“Yeah.” Russ held the letter out to him. “Regardless of what it says, we’re proud of you, boy.”

Nodding, he took the envelope. “Thanks.”

His fingers trembled when he turned it over and pulled at the back fold. It popped open with very little effort. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he took a deep breath and pulled out the white stationery.

He unfolded the letter and read the first line out loud. “Dear Mr. McCoy, Congratulations! You’ve passed your Certified Teachers Exam with a score of ninety-eight point three percent.”

That was all Travis managed to get out before he felt his knees buckle. He stumbled into the table, dropping onto one of the oak chairs. Weeks of preparation, weeks of waiting and hoping that he’d hear something — anything — and now that he knew at last that he’d passed, Travis felt all the tension and stress in his shoulders dissipate. He’d done it; he’d passed his exam, and now, he’d be able to teach those boys how to love the game. Overcome by his emotions, he buried his face in his hands and wept.

~*~*~*~

Travis wasn’t sure how long he stayed curled up on the floor with Penelope and Max nestled up against him. He knew his reaction might appear over-dramatic, but he had been frantic for weeks. Now, he knew that all those nights staying up burning the midnight oil had paid off, and he felt overwhelmed.

“Baby, are you okay?” Penelope whispered.

He laughed and looked over at her. “I’m fine; just being stupid.”

“Nah, you’re just being emotional,” Russ teased.

“Yeah, I am,” Travis admitted, bringing Penelope’s hand up to his lips and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “Sorry, it just hit me all at once.”

“So we saw,” his father chuckled. Reaching across the table, he patted Travis on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, boy. You worked hard, and it shows.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Travis grabbed Russ’s hand, “for everything.”

“You’re welcome. I’d better get going. I’m taking Nadine out for dinner for our anniversary.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Penelope gushed. “How long has it been?”

Travis almost burst out laughing when Russ’s cheeks turned bright red and he ducked his head away.

“Seven months,” Russ mumbled.

“Aw, look at you,” Penelope cooed.

“Yeah, I’d best be going,” he bellyached. He darted out the door before anyone could say another word.

Sharing a look between one another, Penelope, Travis, and Max burst out laughing. The sight of an old cowboy, blushing and looking all embarrassed, wasn’t something one saw every day.

“You know, I think this calls for a celebration,” Penelope said, standing up. “Who wants brownies?”

“Me!” Max cheered and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Sniggering, Travis pushed his chair back and stood. He slid his arm around Penelope’s waist and pulled her against him. “In case I haven’t told you this enough, I love you.”

She smiled, placing her hands on his hips. “I love you, too, and I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Thank you,” he whispered before kissing her. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. You never gave up on me.”

“And I never will. Now, let’s go make some brownies.”

Travis followed Penelope into the kitchen and watched while she and Max pulled out everything they’d need. The smiles on both of their faces grew as they added the eggs, flour, and cocoa into the glass mixing bowl. He just leaned against the counter and watched.

Eight months ago, he had been reluctant to come back to Clarendon, afraid that the town he’d bailed on would reject him. Yet the town had embraced him, nestled him back into its heart, and gave him a place to call home. Even so, it hadn’t been until he’d seen Penelope and Max that he had found himself. In the deep, soulful eyes of an innocent child and the longing embrace of the woman whom he’d loved with everything he had, Travis had found a family — a future.

“Want to lick the spoon?” Penelope held the wooden spoon out to him. “It’s delicious.”

Leaning over, he snaked his tongue out and wrapped it around one side of the spoon, all while keeping his eyes locked on hers. She clamped her lips together, but he heard the moan that reverberated deep in her chest.

“You’re right; it
is
delicious.” Travis smirked.

“Told you,” she whimpered.

“Eww,” Max whined, brushing past her and walking toward the door. “You two can have the brownies. I think I just lost my appetite.”

“I think the boy is gonna need therapy soon,” Penelope snickered. “We’re horrible parents.”

“Eh, he’ll survive,” Travis said. He walked around the island, grabbed her by the hips, and pulled her flush against him. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about . . ,” Penelope pressed her lips against his, “here.”

~*~*~*~

Penelope insisted on taking Max and Travis out to dinner to celebrate. Clarendon didn’t have a lot to offer, but they settled on the local Pizza Hut. Supplied with two large pies and a pitcher of soda, they laughed and teased each other until they were almost in tears. The night had been perfect — just the three of them. There’d never been a time in Travis’s life when he’d imagined himself as a father. Now with Max sitting next to him, he couldn’t picture a life without his son.

Once they’d eaten as much as they could, they packed up their leftovers, paid their check, and drove home. Max grabbed Travis’s arm to get his attention, but he waited until Penelope had headed inside before he spoke.

“I need to talk to you.” The urgency in his voice put Travis on edge.

“Okay, let’s sit down,” he said, gesturing to the porch swing.

When they were settled, Max turned to his father. “I don’t know how to start this.”

“You can talk to me about anything, little man,” Travis tried to assure him, but he could remember how awkward it was being ten years old and talking to his dad.

“Yeah, okay, here goes.” Max paused long enough to take a deep breath. “Hurt Mom, and I will kill you.”

Travis had been prepared to hear almost anything come out of Max’s mouth — anything but a death threat. “Um, what?”

“I love you, Dad, but if you hurt Mom, I will have no choice but to kill you,” Max said.

“Okay.” Travis nodded. “Not sure why you feel the need to threaten me with bodily harm.”

“It’s not like I think you will hurt her,” Max told him. “It’s clear from the way that you can’t keep your hands to yourself that you love her.”

Travis whistled under his breath. “Still not understanding what brought all of this on, little man. Did I do something to make you think I would hurt her?”

“No.”

“Then why are we having this discussion?” he asked.

Max smiled. “Because it’s my job.”

“Huh?” Travis brought his hand up to the back of his neck.

“Well, you’re about to marry Mom, so it’s my job to lay down the law and make sure you know better than to hurt her,” his son explained.

Travis smiled. “I see. Max, you know that I wouldn’t hurt her in a million years, don’t you? I love her.”

“No, I know you do,” Max grumbled. “But before you came, she was so lonely. She didn’t smile or laugh much. I hated that she was sad all the time. She tried to hide it from me, but I heard her crying sometimes. I never want to hear her cry like that again. Not ever.”

“Max, I can’t promise that she won’t cry sometimes,” Travis replied. “Mom’s an emotional woman. That’s a good thing; means she loves with her whole heart. But I can promise that no matter how many times she cries, I’ll be there to hold her and to soothe away the hurt. I’ll love her with every part of me.”

Turning his eyes to the floor, Max nodded. Travis heard him sniffling so he placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do you one better.”

“What’s that?” Max asked.

“I’ll promise not to leave you, too.”

The moment the words were out of Travis’s mouth, Max snapped his head up and looked him in the eyes.