The Unforgettable Kind

by Melanie Munton

  It’s my turn to squeeze her hand. “Your designs are incredible, Jaz. And if this agency is too dumb to see that, then they don’t deserve to work with you.”

  “What if I’m just not good enough? Maybe I’ve been wasting my time all these years.”

  I scoff. “Blasphemy. Someone is going to see those sketches and recognize how amazing you are. You just have to be patient.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’ve got your dream job. The entire country loves you, for cripe’s sake.”

  “Now don’t go giving her a bigger head than she’s already got,” comes a deep male voice from behind me.

  Marcus steps up next to our table in the same suit he wore to work. Not surprising, since this bar is a favorite hangout of everyone at FNN. Oftentimes, we’ll head straight here from the studio for an after-work drink or to watch some games.

  He inclines his head toward us. “Ladies.”

  I notice he’s got a particularly coy smile for Jaz, and vice versa. She’s told me they’ve hooked up a few times, though it’s strictly a platonic, friends-with-benefits type of situation. There’s no claiming or territorial issues between them. And if either of them were to leave the bar with different people tonight, neither would turn green with jealousy. She’s also assured me that his reputation as a “sexpert” is more than deserved, which is way more than I ever need to know about my co-worker.

  “Thought you were giving that whole merry-go-round of women routine a rest, Babbett?”

  I raise my glass to my lips. Hm. There was a lot more wine in it a few seconds ago.

  His return grin is lascivious. “Doesn’t mean I’ve become a monk, Lawrence. Besides, thought I’d buy Jennings a drink for his first day. He’s in the restroom.”

  I’m pretty sure some wine dribbles down my chin as my wide eyes flash first to Jasmine and then to the bathrooms. Sure enough, Kade exits the men’s side two seconds later and heads for our table. When our gazes clash, his is one of genuine surprise. Knowing that he didn’t deliberately follow me here offers me a modicum of comfort. It doesn’t last long when his surprise turns to intrigue and then to something that looks a hell of a lot like lust.

  Oh, God. I’ve imbibed too much to deal with this.

  “And the blasts from the past just keep on coming,” Kade comments as his eyes land on Jaz.

  She stands to give him a hug. “If it isn’t Kade Jennings himself. How are you?”

  “Whoa.” Marcus steps between them, looking around at all three of us. “You two know each other? What the hell have I missed?”

  Kade’s eyes glint with amusement when they come back to me. “We’ve all known each other since high school. Haven’t we, Sam?”

  Before I can answer, Marcus shouts, “I knew it!” He points his finger back and forth between me and Kade. “I knew there was something going on with you two. Y’all were being too familiar with each other. I’m gonna grab us some beers and then you’re telling me all about Sam as an awkward cheerleader.” He slaps Kade on the back and walks off.

  I glare at Jaz, refusing to acknowledge Kade as he takes the chair next to mine. “I’m still pissed at you for showing him that cheerleading picture, by the way. You’re not forgiven.”

  She blows me an air kiss. “You shouldn’t have gotten me all liquored up for St. Patty’s Day then.”

  “It was at the Labor Day barbeque, and you were completely sober at the time.”

  “Then aren’t you lucky you deleted it from my phone before I could get drunk and post it on social media?” She ignores my searing glare and turns to the man next to me. “So, Kade. How did your first day go?”

  I can feel him staring at me while I take a sip of…nothing. Ah, nuts. My glass is empty.

  “Not too bad,” he answers. “I think I nailed my first taping. Wouldn’t you agree, Samantha?”

  Oh, we’re playing that game, are we? We’ll see about that. I have years of ammo against him stored up, ready to be fired in his direction.

  “We’ll see how long you last.” There’s a noticeable bite to my tone. “You don’t always like to stick around, do you? I mean, isn’t that your thing? The nail and bail?”

  His grin falls off.

  He doesn’t say a damn word.

  Because there’s not a single thing he can say to that.

  Chapter Ten

  “You Won’t Change Me”

  by Black Sabbath

  Back then…

  Kade

  It was the night before a huge Statistics test and I was having trouble concentrating on studying. Instead of statistical formulas, my thoughts were swirling with images of Sam eating ice cream and jumping around in her cheerleading uniform.

  This had been my regular routine every night lately, test or no test.

  My dad came through the front door just as I decided I needed a break. He held up a plastic bag. “You eaten?”

  “Nope.”

  “Chinese okay? I didn’t get off as early as I wanted.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I dug through the bag and spread out the takeout containers on the coffee table.

  “Water or Gatorade?” he shouted from the kitchen. He knew those were my only go-to drinks during season.

  “Gatorade is good. Whatever’s in there.”

  He came into the living room a few seconds later, drinks in hand.

  “Thanks.”

  We watched Thursday Night Football as we ate, me on the couch, him sprawled out in his recliner. His gaze landed on my textbook and notes. “How are classes going?”

  “Fine, I guess. I was a little ahead when I got here, so it hasn’t been too bad.”

  “And the team?”

  “We’re actually not too bad. I think we’ll have a chance at state if things go well.”

  He looked as surprised as I felt about it. “That’s great.”

  I knew more was coming with the pregnant pause that followed.

  “You know I’m going to be there for all your games, right? Late nights like tonight won’t happen often.”

  I put up my hand, stopping him. “You’ve always come to as many games as your job would allow, Dad. You work hard for us. I would never hold that against you.”

  He stared down at the soda can in his hands, tapping his finger against the aluminum. “Still,” he finally said. “I’m going to do better.”

  I scowled in disgust. I hated the way my mom’s vicious words had stuck with him, cut through him. The “what did you expect, you’re never around” bullshit she’d spat at him just before the divorce proceedings, throwing the blame on him for what was happening. Trying to make him feel responsible for her actions. It made me sick.

  “Don’t do that,” I told him forcefully. Maybe too forcefully. “Don’t think that anything she did was your fault. Her choices were her own, Dad. She chose to do what she did and leave us. None of that is on you.”

  They were words I’d said to him a million times, but they never seemed to stick.

  “That’s just it, Kade.” His voice was resigned, almost defeated. “Some of it is on me.” I started to speak, but he talked over my protests. “I may have been a good father to you, and I may have provided for our family. But that doesn’t mean I was a good husband, as well. I didn’t take good enough care of her.”

  “That doesn’t justify what she did.”

  He could rationalize it in his mind however he needed. Cheating was never justified. It was her responsibility to have told him if she was unhappy. If it caused fights, so be it. Suggest counseling, go on a vacation together. Anything but turn to another man. I hadn’t been a fan of cheaters before this, but this situation sealed the deal for me. A woman wouldn’t get another chance if she did that to me, whether we were dating or married. I’d be done with her. Forever burned.

  Dad slowly shook his head, clearly deep in thought. “No, it doesn’t. But women have certain needs, Kade. They have to be told things, have things done for them. No matter how long you’ve been toge
ther, or how well you know each other. They still need to hear things from us. I didn’t do a good enough job of that. You may not understand it now, but I hope one day you will. Once a woman feels that she’s no longer special to you, you’ve lost her.”

  I said nothing as I digested those words. I understood part of what he said, but I fervently disagreed with much of it. Men couldn’t read women’s minds, no matter how much they wanted us to. In a relationship, it was up to both individuals to voice their issues if they truly wanted it to work. My mom hadn’t done that, and I would never blame my father for it. He did the best he could, working his ass off at the plant in Atlanta and making sure we had whatever we needed.

  Again, cheating was never okay.

  Never.

  But the more I thought about it, the more I considered the kind of temptation I felt around Sam. The way I wanted her was a mind-bogglingly powerful feeling, the likes of which I’d never felt before. Nothing about being with her felt wrong. But if we were together in the ways I wanted to be, she would become a cheater. Plain and simple. And that would most definitely be wrong.

  I would never turn Sam into a cheater.

  Fucking never.

  All it took was once. Just one moment for something irrevocable to happen and that ugly, despicable term would apply to our situation. Temptation was dangerous. Desire was risky. That kind of combination could permanently brand a person.

  Thankfully, Dad and I stopped with the heavy talk and went back to watching the game and talking about my new school and new team.

  “It sounds like you’ve made some friends then,” he said. “That’s good.”

  Sam’s face instantly popped up in my head.

  I snorted.

  Yeah. One “friend” too many.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Wish You Were Here”

  by Pink Floyd

  Sam

  “What the hell was Mr. Bomber thinking?” I complained to Jasmine over the phone. “This study guide doesn’t even make sense. How the hell are we supposed to know what’s actually going to be on the test?”

  My Statistics textbook, notebooks, random pens and pencils, Post-It notes, and highlighters were littered across my bed. Glasses had replaced my contacts hours ago, I’d switched from herbal tea to an energy drink—or three energy drinks—and the meatloaf and mashed potatoes my mom had brought me for dinner remained uneaten on my desk.

  “I know,” Jaz said through the speakerphone, sighing. “I didn’t realize we were learning how to solve incomprehensible riddles in Stats class.”

  The numbers and letters on the papers in front of me were starting to blur together, resembling Egyptian hieroglyphics. I threw down my pen in disgust and took my hair out of its knot.

  “We need to talk Charity into half-assing this so the curve will be lowered for the rest of us.”

  Jaz laughed. “For real.”

  I re-tied my hair knot and rubbed my temples, forcing myself to focus. Those energy drinks were rearing their ugly heads and giving me a headache. The aspirin was somewhere in the bathroom down the hall, but ironically, I didn’t have the energy to even roll off this bed, let alone walk my butt twenty feet.

  My phone beeped, indicating I had another call coming in. When I saw the name on the screen, my breath stuttered.

  Kade.

  I’d given him my number the night he rescued me off the highway, but he’d yet to use it. “Jaz, I’ll call you right back, okay?”

  I switched over after she hung up. “Hello?”

  “Tell me you understand this damn study guide for Stats,” he groaned.

  His voice was all deep and gravelly, and the butterflies in my belly took flight.

  I relaxed back into the pile of pillows behind me. “Pretty sure no one does.”

  He grunted. “Maybe I’ll just sit next to Charity during the test.”

  I chuckled. “Go ahead and try. But be forewarned, Mr. Bomber has eagle eyes.”

  “I’m screwed.”

  I was grateful he couldn’t see how big my smile was. “We’ll all go down together. Scraping by in Mr. Bomber’s class has become a rite of passage in Mason. He’s been there since before my mom was in school.”

  “So, she grew up in Mason, too?”

  I worked out the kinks in my stiff neck, forgetting all about tests and formulas and failing. “Yeah, same with her parents. My dad’s side, too, but his parents moved away after he graduated high school. Mason’s pretty much in my blood.”

  “Do you want to stay here?”

  My answer was immediate. “Hell no. I’ve had enough of small towns. As much as I’ll miss my mom, I’m out of here the second that diploma is in my hands.”

  I heard music playing in the background, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Sounded like some sort of folksy rock. Fleetwood Mac maybe?

  “Same here,” he said. “Where do you want to go to college?”

  “University of Florida is my first pick. That’s what I’m shooting for.”

  “Not Georgia?”

  Blech. I hated that school. “Definitely not.” I paused. “My dad played ball at Georgia.”

  Silence. “Oh.” His tone was sympathetic. “Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere.”

  I huffed. I’m sure he did. “What about you?”

  I sensed he had more questions, but I was glad he didn’t pursue the topic further.

  “It depends on if I can get a scholarship and where to. I actually wouldn’t mind Florida, either. I’d take Alabama or Auburn, too, but I don’t know if I’m good enough for any of those schools.”

  Is he serious?

  “Are you joking? Kade, you’re number six in the national rankings right now. And I know about the scouts that are supposed to be at next week’s game. I’m sure come next year, you’ll have your pick from almost any D-I school in the country.”

  “I think you’re cockier about my skills than I am,” he mused. “I guess that’s a good thing because they’re the only ones I’ve got.”

  My smile faded at his self-deprecating words. “What are you talking about? They are not.”

  “Football’s all I’ve got, Sam.” His voice was harder now. “It’s all I know how to do. I’ve never trained for anything else, never even thought about anything else. The game is my entire future.”

  “But that’s what college is for,” I said gently. “To explore different areas. Feel out what else you like, what else you’re good at. You don’t have to accept that football is the only thing out there for you.”

  “And if it is?” He sounded genuinely curious, almost desperate for advice.

  “Then you make it work for you. There are tons of different avenues in the football world. If that’s what you do best, then explore every path until you find something that fits. Something that makes you happy.”

  He seemed to ponder that for a little while. Then, as I’d suspected and dreaded, he asked the question. “And what does Sam Lawrence want to be when she grows up?”

  That was the question that had been plaguing me for a long time now. And I was becoming less and less sure of my answer. “I’ve always thought about becoming a teacher.”

  It was my usual response, mostly because it was easier to say than what I most secretly wanted.

  “Really?” he said in surprise. “Huh.”

  “What? Can’t picture me as a teacher?”

  “Honestly? No, I can’t. Don’t really know why, but I pictured you doing something…” he trailed off.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Something bigger, I guess. I know that doesn’t make sense. Not that there’s anything wrong with teaching if that’s really what you want to do. It just doesn’t seem like…you.”

  Those words hit me like an anvil being dropped on my chest. He was the first person to ever say that to me. And he was right. How is that possible? He barely knew me.

  “And what do you think I really want to do?”

  “I don’t know.” He paused
. “Nothing you’d have to be on time every day for.”

  “Oh, screw you.”

  He laughed.

  “I haven’t been late for school in over two weeks.”

  “Well, excuse me. You’ve turned over a new leaf. How rude of me.”

  I yawned. “Speaking of late, I think I should go to bed. I’m about to crash super hard from an energy drink bender.”

  “Yikes. Maybe you should set a few extra alarms on your phone. Those energy drink hangovers are a bitch. Matter of fact, why don’t I come set off a nuclear bomb outside your window so you’ll be sure to wake up—”

  “Goodnight, Kade!”

  He cracked up. “’Night, Sam.”

  I won’t lie. Hearing Kade’s smooth timbre ringing in my ears right before falling asleep was better than a damn lullaby. I closed my eyes with a smile on my face.

  My phone rang an hour later.

  Jarred from a pleasantly deep sleep, I threw my arm out somewhere in the vicinity of my nightstand. I didn’t open my eyes when I tapped the screen.

  “It’s not time for school yet.”

  “No, but it’s about time you pick up the damn phone!” Drake scolded.

  Groggily, I rolled over in bed. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who hasn’t answered his phone in three weeks.”

  Matter of fact, the only time he seemed to call me anymore was really late at night, and that’s if he wasn’t at a party or with a girl.

  “I know, I know. Football has just kept me so busy.”

  “Not to mention the sorority girls I’m seeing all over your Facebook page.”

  “Hey, they tagged me in those pictures. I’m not responsible for that.”

  “Serves you right for sticking your tongue down their throats in the first place.”

  “Anywaaay…” He grunted, making me smile. “Did you see my game last week?”

  “If you’re asking if I saw your two missed tackles in the second half, then yes, I did.”

  There was some crunching in the background that sounded like a bag of chips. “Hey, I also had two touchdowns that game. Give me a break.”

  I laughed, missing him so much it hurt. “Just busting your balls, bro.”