by Vivi Holt
Momma’s eyes blinked open and she looked around her, lost for a moment. Then, focused her gaze on Stacey. “Where are we?”
“I brought you home. And I got the croissants I promised.”
Momma nodded, then climbed out and wobbled up the front steps to unlock the door. Stacey followed, her brow creased with concern. Inside, she set the bag of croissants on the dining table and scanned the room. The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes and silverware, worn clothes were scattered across the living room floor, and it looked as though the place hadn’t seen a vacuum in a good long while. She shook her head, her stomach clenching. There was definitely something wrong, even more than usual. “Momma, are you feeling okay?”
Momma fetched two plates from an overhead cabinet and turned the coffee pot on. “I’m fine, honey. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that … well, things are a little messy around here. And that’s not like you.”
Momma’s eyes narrowed with a flash of anger. “I guess I’m an embarrassment to you now, am I?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m just worried about you.”
Momma turned her back. “If you were worried about me, you’d call.”
Stacey sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I don’t call or visit enough. I get it – I’m a lousy daughter.”
Momma sat, waving at the chair across from her. “You’re not a lousy daughter. But it’s lonely out here.”
Stacey moved a potholder off the other chair and sat. “What about Faith? Don’t you see her?”
“She moved. She’s not living next door anymore.” Momma sighed, looking suddenly older, as though she’d shriveled in her seat.
Stacey’s eyes widened. “Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. And, um … Cliff?”
“He’s gone. I threw him out.”
“Oh.” Stacey tried not to sound too happy. Cliff hadn’t been the most upstanding citizen, but he was the best boyfriend her mother had ever had. Unemployed and a drunk, but at least he’d seemed kind.
“He wasn’t treatin’ me right. I figured it’s about time I stood up for myself. But I didn’t think it through – didn’t realize how quiet it’d be. It’s just me here now.” Momma took a bite of croissant. “Mmm … these are so good.”
“I’m sorry about Cliff. I know how much you cared about him.”
Momma sniffed. “Pfft. He was a good for nothin’.”
Stacey’s lips pursed. “Still …”
“Anyhow, I just have to get used to bein’ alone. I’ve never been alone in my entire life, so I suppose forty-five’s as good a time to start as any.”
“You’re still young …”
“Ha! I’m old and worn out.”
“You’re definitely not old.”
“Feels that way.”
“I wish you’d start looking after yourself better, Momma. If you’d just quit drinking …”
“Oh, here we go again – quit drinkin’, quit drinkin’. It’s always the shame thing with you. Can’t I just have one little vice to keep the edge off? I’ve got to deal with this life in one way or another, don’t I? Anyhow, I’ve got it under control. I’ve barely had a shot all week … ‘til today. I’m practically a teetotaler.” She chuckled to herself.
Stacey’s heart fell. She’d never get through to Momma. The woman surrounded herself with an artillery of self-preservation. Any hint of an attack and she’d rise up, ready to strike, like a cornered cobra. “I’m glad to hear you’re slowing down. I know you like to drink – it just isn’t good for you.”
“What do you know? What do you know about life or hardship? You’ve been sheltered and spoiled …”
“Sheltered and spoiled?” replied Stacey, her hackles rising. “You must be joking.”
Momma stood and flung her empty plate toward the sink. “You were Daddy’s little princess. I never let anything bad happen to you, not like what I got when I was a girl. No one did that for me. No one protected me …” Momma’s voice broke and she breathed deeply. “But nothin’s ever good enough for you. And now you’re embarrassed to know me, to be seen with me …”
“That is not true! I wish I’d been spoiled! I wish someone had protected me!”
“Oh yeah? From what?”
“FROM YOU!”
Silence hung in the air as Momma’s face transitioned from enraged to an unreadable calm. “From me? I see. I’m such a monster. I’ll have you know I was a good mother. I took care of you, I kept the house clean, I made you meals, I locked your room so no one could hurt you –”
“You locked it when you were home and sober! But what about the rest of the time? You were too busy hiding in a bottle to think about me, and how I had to fend off your sleazy boyfriends and their grabby hands! And when I tried to tell you about them, you beat me – beat me and accused me of trying to steal your beaux away! You ever think about that? No, you were too busy thinking about yourself, your next drink! And you dare pretend you were a good mother?! I was there – I know better!”
Momma blinked a few times, her eyes red-rimmed.
Stacey just stood there, seething. Maybe she shouldn’t have said all that. But not one word of it was a lie.
“You said your piece?” Momma finally whispered.
“Yep.” Stacey picked up her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder and headed out the door. Her gut roiled and her head was dizzy with anger, regret, pain and unspent tears. But as she walked back to her car, she knew she couldn’t feel worse. She pulled out and flipped on the radio.
“… he’s listed as questionable for Sunday’s game against the Giants. And bad news out of Falcons camp – Ardensville native, running back Jax Green is expected to miss the rest of the season after tearing his Achilles in practice yesterday …”
Wrong again. She could feel worse.
16
Jax stared down at his right leg. The thick plastic boot made his skin itch just to look at it. He pushed a finger down into it and scratched as best he could, but couldn’t reach the itch. With a sigh, he lay back in his La-Z-Boy and stared out his apartment window at the Atlanta skyline. He’d been rushed to the hospital after rupturing his Achilles tendon, and had been poked, prodded and pried open by the best orthopedic surgeons in the area. Now he was stuck in his apartment with his lower leg immobilized and the television on.
Wallace had brought lunch by, but then had to return to practice. There’d be a physical therapist along later and Uber Eats to bring him dinner, but otherwise he was on his own.
The quiet buzz of voices from the widescreen TV on the wall across from him was the only break in the silence that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d never been the kind of man to sit around with his feet up – he liked to move, do things, stay busy. But now, on his rear end was the only place he was allowed to be.
He sighed again and reached for his cell phone. The screen lit up at his touch and the photo of him and his Dad embracing, wearing matching Falcons jerseys, taunted him. His throat tightened and he set the phone back on the side table, letting his eyes close. He really wanted to call Stacey, had wanted to every day since the injury, but couldn’t work up the nerve. When he last saw her, things between them were awkward – she’d pulled away from him, and he wasn’t sure why. He was afraid of hearing her say she didn’t care for him the way he did for her.
It was too quiet, nothing to keep the thoughts from flitting around his mind, driving him crazy. Thoughts about Dad, about Stacey, about the career he’d barely started that might already be over. All his hopes and dreams gone. He groaned and ran a hand over his face and through his hair.
His phone rang and he slapped it quickly to his ear. “Hi, this is Jax.”
“Jax, it’s Coach. How you doin’, son?”
Tal Jackson’s voice sent his heart diving. It wouldn’t be good news, he just knew it. “Hi, Coach. I’m fine, thanks, given the situation.”
“That’s good to hear – keep your spirits up, okay? Now, I just spoke
with the doctors and they tell me you’re out at least three months.”
Jax groaned and covered his eyes. Out for the season. It was bad news, all right.
“But don’t get all het up about it. They also said you’ll probably be ready for OTAs in the spring, so I want you to focus on that.”
Jax’s eyes blinked open. “That’s good to hear.”
“You can do this. I believe in you, son – you’ve got the gumption to come back from somethin’ like this and I’d like to see you do it. It’ll be hard, and you’ll have to rest for a good while, then get into rehab in a big way. But it’s possible. Think you can do that for me?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good to hear. I’ve got to get going, but I’ll stay in touch.”
“Hey, Coach?” An idea was forming in his mind. “Is there any chance I could recuperate up in Ardensville? My family’s up there and I’d rather be at home if I’m not needed down here.”
“I don’t see why not. We can get you a therapist up there just as well as we can here.”
Jax drew in a deep breath. He could go home. “Thanks, Coach. I promise, I’ll work hard and I’ll be back next season.”
“I hope so – Roberts is gonna give me an ulcer if he keeps fumblin’ like this. Good luck to you, son.”
Jax hung up and stared off into the distance. His season was over, but not his career. There was a long way to go, but he’d do everything he could to make it back onto the team. He stared at the phone, flicked through his contacts and dialed.
Stacey set her pocketbook on the counter, then her hands on her hips, and stared at the empty kitchen. She hadn’t thought much about how big this house was until it was empty. With Brad and Jax around, it had rung with their laughter and feet on hardwood floors, or their video games and competitive shouts from the den. Now everything was still, quiet. Unnerving.
Her phone ringing startled her and she jumped. “Hello?”
“Hi, Stacey, it’s Jax.”
His voice made her heart race. “How are you? I heard about your injury …”
He sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been better. Sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“It’s okay.”
When he left Ardensville, she’d looked forward to seeing pictures of him at training, smiling, having fun – though not enjoying his life without her too much. Instead, there had been that report on the radio – and silence. She felt bad she wasn’t there for him, but was afraid to call. They’d parted on such a weird note. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m out for the rest of the season, but they expect I’ll be healed up in time for the first spring mini-camp. So that’s kinda good news.”
“That is.” She slumped onto the couch. “I’m praying for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling … I’m coming home.”
She paused. “That’s great – that way we can all take care of you.”
“Thanks. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“What else would I say?”
“I don’t know. The last time I saw you, things were … awkward between us.”
She didn’t reply. What could she say – “I got scared, I knew you were leaving and I didn’t want to have my heart broken all over again”? He wouldn’t understand, since he didn’t even know how in love with him she was.
“I just hope we can pick up again as friends,” he continued. “And I’m sorry I kissed you. I know it changed things between us and it’s killing me.”
Her stomach twisted. “It’s fine, like I said before. Of course we’re still friends.”
“Does Brad know?”
That’s what he was worried about, her brother? Of course, he wasn’t thinking about her, only whether or not he’d upset his friend. She should’ve known. “Well, I haven’t told him, so unless you did … not that it’s really any of his business. After all, we’re adults.”
“No, I haven’t really spoken to him. He called once this week to see if I was okay, but we didn’t talk about anything else. And I know we’re adults, it’s just that he asked me … never mind.”
She nodded silently – she could just guess what her overprotective big brother had asked. If only he’d protected her better when she was a kid. “So do you want me to move out?”
“No, of course not. I want you to stay. I told you that you should make my house your home, and I meant it.”
“Yes, but that was before you intended on living in it.”
“Nothing will change. I mean, other than that I’ll be there now, but I’ll be busy rehabbing and you’ll be working. Do what you think is best, but don’t move out on my account.”
After she finished the call with Jax, Stacey lay back on the couch and channel-surfed until she found a soppy romantic movie on TCM. She kicked off her pumps, padded into the kitchen and pulled the Moose Tracks ice cream out of the freezer. A few scoops later, she sat back on the couch, bowl and spoon in hand. Ice cream for dinner never hurt anyone, did it? Besides, she couldn’t face cooking for one tonight.
She sighed. Jax was coming home. And despite what he’d said about it, that changed everything.
The sound of a car pulling into the drive woke Stacey. She rubbed her eyes, then rolled onto her side. It must be the neighbors. It was Saturday morning, her first Saturday off from work since she started at the realty office, and she fully intended on sleeping as late as possible.
The bang of the front door gave her a jolt and she sat up in bed, eyes wide. Was that Jax already? He wasn’t supposed to arrive until later. She jumped out of bed, threw her bathrobe on and shoved her feet into her slippers. After a quick glance in the mirror to run her fingers through her hair, she hurried toward the staircase – and froze. What if it wasn’t Jax? Would an intruder use the front door? Had she forgotten to lock it? She grabbed a claw hammer she’d been using to put up pictures, then crept down the stairs with it held high over her head.
“Hello, Stacey,” said Jax with a glint in his eyes. He sat in the entryway in a wheelchair, a young man behind him holding the handles. Luggage was piled against one wall beneath a painting of the Outer Banks she’d hung there. “Just what were you planning on doing with that?”
She sighed and let her arm drop to her side. “You scared me.”
He smiled. “Sorry about that. I took an earlier flight. I did text you …”
She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “I turned my phone off. Long day.” Still, she couldn’t help returning the smile. How could she keep her distance the way she’d planned to over the bowl of ice cream the night before? She could never resist that smile. Instead she hurried to his side and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering a moment as she breathed in his scent – woodsy, masculine, knee-weakening. “I’m glad you’re home.” She eyed the wheelchair. “Is it really so bad?”
He chuckled. “I can get around with crutches, but I can’t drive. Coach insisted I have someone bring me home. Thanks, Jerome.”
The young man said goodbye and headed out the door. Soon, it was just the two of them. “What now?” asked Stacey, setting the hammer on a nearby table.
Jax shrugged. “I think I’ll leave the chair here. Can you pass me my crutches?”
She found them behind his luggage, pulled them out and handed them to him. He levered himself out of the wheelchair, hopped into the den and slouched into a La-Z-Boy. He put the foot rest up and set his cast on it. “Ah … that’s better.” His face pinched with pain for a moment, then it passed and he smiled at her. “It’s good to see you.”
She laughed, folded up the wheelchair and set it against the wall, out of the way. “Good to see you too, but it hasn’t been as long as I thought it’d be. Can I get you anything?”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m heading out in a few minutes, but I’m happy to get you something before I leave.” Until that moment she’d had n
o intention of going anywhere, but suddenly she had to get out of there. He smelled too good, looked too vulnerable – she couldn’t trust herself.
He finally agreed to a bacon-and-egg sandwich and coffee, and she fixed them for him, then hurried to shower and dress. Before he could say another thing, she was out of the house and driving, not knowing where she was going. Her vision began to blur with tears. Why was she crying – nothing had happened, everything was fine. But neither the tears streaming down her cheeks nor heavy feeling in her chest would let up.
This was no good – she couldn’t see to drive. She pulled over, wiped her eyes … and found herself outside Brad’s apartment. She parked and hurried up to knock on his front door.
He opened the door, already dressed in his business suit for work, and grinned. “Stace, what are you doing here?’
She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.
He ushered her in, shut the door and embraced her. “Stace, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“It’s Jax …,” she blubbered.
Through the haze of tears saw his face redden. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing, nothing. He didn’t do anything.”
“Because if he did, I’ll go over there and teach him not to mess with my sister.” He smacked his fist into his palm.
She put her hand on his, still crying. “No, please don’t do anything stupid. Jax didn’t hurt me.”
“Then why are you crying?” asked Brad, one eyebrow arched in confusion.
“Because I’m in love with him and he doesn’t love me back!”
Stacey patted her face with a Kleenex, then tossed it into the wastepaper basket Brad had set by her feet. She reached for another tissue and blew her nose.
“You’re in love with him?” questioned Brad.
“Yes.”
Brad scratched his chin. “When did that happen?”
“In high school.”
“Seriously? But you hardly even spoke to the guy.”
