Her Second Chance Hometown Groom

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Yes.”

  Neither of them spoke for a long minute. Then Angela continued, “I dropped the class until after he graduated, and the following year, I picked it back up again. It put me a little behind, but I worked hard and caught up, and it got me away from him, so it was worth it.”

  “And that’s why working hard is so important to you now.”

  “It’s always been important to me.”

  “Yes, it has. But not like this.”

  She looked out the window again. “It’s Hollywood no matter where you actually go, Austin. It’s the same story over and over, only with different names and faces.”

  He didn’t say anything. He sat so still, it was almost as though time had frozen, and she alone was moving, breathing.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said at last. “That never, ever should have happened, and it’s killing me that it did. At the same time, I don’t understand.” His voice caught. “I’m not him. I’m the exact opposite of him. You just caught me on tape saying it. You know me, you know my heart—but you came home and broke up with me when all I ever wanted was to love you and protect you, protect you from guys who are like him . . . and I don’t understand. I thought you’d stopped loving me, and I tried to respect that and give you space, but if this was your reason . . . I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

  She wanted to curl up into the passenger door and hide. “I can’t explain it,” she whispered.

  They sat there for what seemed like forever, the pain growing more and more intense. She wanted to say something, but felt like anything she did say would only make it worse.

  Finally, Austin pulled out his phone. “I’m going to order our lunch online and we can pick it up in the drive-through. You need to eat, and I’m sure you don’t want to go inside.”

  He’d always known her so well—always picked up on her needs and her wants alike. She nodded, not at all surprised when he recited a list of her favorites and asked if that’s what she wanted.

  After they’d collected their food, he drove them a short ways down a dirt road where the small river that ran through town looped between two stands of trees, making a picturesque picnic spot. It was beautiful in the summer, but it had a different kind of beauty in the winter, stark and chill. They were completely alone, and unpacked their sacks on the bench of the truck until they’d both found everything they wanted.

  “Listen, Austin,” she said after she’d taken a few swigs of her Coke. “I didn’t mean for all this to come out—this week was supposed to be about you, about the interview, about keeping my job. If I get caught up in trying to sort through everything, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it. Could we . . . could we put this to the side and take it one dramatic crisis at a time? We’ll talk about it—I promise we will. I just need time.” She knew she wasn’t being fair, but she didn’t know how to be. She was just trying to survive.

  He paused before answering. “Before I left San Antonio, I made a pact with the other guys on the defensive line,” he replied. “We decided to spend this Christmas vacation revisiting our pasts and making up for things we regret. The first thing that came to my mind was you.”

  “Austin . . .” The pain in her chest was nearly suffocating.

  “The thing I regret most in my life was letting you leave. You had your reasons, you said you had to move on, you said it was your dream, and I told you to go. I told you to go, and that was the moment when you needed me most.” He looked over at her, and she could see that his eyes were red-rimmed. “I’m not going to make that mistake again. If you need time—fine. I’ll give you time. But I’m not walking away, and I’m not letting you walk away either. Maybe you don’t love me anymore—maybe this isn’t meant to be—but you’re going to have a friend. A friend like I wasn’t before.”

  Her tears were flowing in earnest now. “I don’t deserve you,” she said when she could finally push the words past her emotions.

  “That’s not true. Not for a minute. You deserve everything I can possibly give you—and more.” He paused. “Now, eat something before you get a migraine, please.”

  Yes, he remembered her so well.

  They ate their meal, every last onion ring and bite of cheeseburger, and Angela decided not to worry about it. She couldn’t imagine crying that hard and then trying to replenish herself with a salad. “Thank you,” she said when they were done. “I mean . . .”

  “We can talk about it later,” he replied. “Let’s save your job first.”

  “Thank you.” The words seemed so trite, and yet they carried more weight than anything else she might have wanted to say.

  He started the engine and backed out of their parking spot. “Let’s save the frogs for another time,” he said. “My mother wants you to help us cut down our Christmas tree.”

  “Really? I love chopping down trees,” Angela replied after taking a shaky breath. “I’d love to come.”

  “She’ll be glad to hear that. And so am I.” He reached out and turned up the heat a little, and Angela settled back into her seat. She was exhausted on every level, but she knew she’d fallen in a safe place. Now she had to rebuild from there.

  Chapter 7

  When they got back to the Mayhews’, Angela excused herself to step into the bathroom, and Austin leaned against the kitchen counter, needing something to hold on to.

  “Are you all right?” Melinda asked, looking up from the vegetables she was chopping.

  Austin glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Um, no. I’m really not.”

  She set down her knife and gave him her full attention. “What’s the matter, son?”

  He scratched his jaw, where his beard suddenly felt itchy. “It’s just . . . I started out today thinking it was going to be one thing, and it turned into something else . . . Something I can’t go into because it’s not my story to share, and it’s something I can’t fix . . .”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Deep breath.”

  He paused and did as she said, filling up his lungs and expelling the air slowly. She always did have a way of helping him focus. “What do you do when there’s nothing you can do, Mom?”

  “There’s always something you can do. Keep looking until you find it.”

  Angela came back into the kitchen. Austin could tell that she’d washed her face, and she seemed more settled now. “Thanks for inviting me to come today, Mrs. Mayhew. I love looking for Christmas trees.”

  Melinda gave her a look. “How many years have you been coming to my house?”

  Angela blinked. “Um . . . I don’t know. A lot?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Don’t you think it’s about time you started calling me Melinda?”

  Angela’s look of worry turned into a smile. “Yeah, I could probably manage that.”

  “Good. Now, hand me that Crock-Pot lid, please. We need to get this started so we can have some roast for dinner. Are you staying this time?”

  “Yes, I’m staying.”

  “Good,” Melinda said again, giving a nod like all was right with the world. Then she glanced at Austin, and he caught the message. She might not know the story, but she understood the need, and she’d be there to support them both however she could.

  Dang, he loved his family.

  Once the Crock-Pot was going. Melinda hollered up the stairs that it was time to leave, and footsteps thundered from all over the house as the whole clan showed up in the kitchen. Todd trailed a few steps behind, a grin on his face. “You sound like a herd of elephants crashing through the floor.”

  “It’s Christmas, Dad,” Kyle said, thumping Todd on the back. “You can’t put out the spark of our childish enthusiasm for the world’s most beloved holiday.”

  Todd gave Melinda a look as if to say, This is your fault. Then he grabbed his keys from the hook by the door. “Did you get the trailer hitched to my truck, Shawn?”

  “The better to haul back a tree, Dad.”

  “All right. Let’s get out of here.”
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br />   They piled out of the house, each choosing a vehicle and climbing in. Austin reached out and caught Angela’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost in the sea of swirling winter coats, and they ended up with both Maggie and Trevor squished in the cab with them. “Where do you think Dad’s going to lead us this year?” Trevor asked.

  “Oh, gracious. Who even knows,” Maggie replied. “If it gets too bad, I brought a thermos of cocoa. We won’t freeze to death.”

  “What happened last year?” Angela asked.

  “What didn’t happen last year is more like it.” Maggie sighed. “So, Dad got this brilliant idea that we should head down a dirt road we’ve never seen before. We were all waving at him, telling him to turn, but he just kept right on going, so we followed him. He’s our dad, right? He’s the one who knows things. Well, we bounced down this road for about twenty minutes and started noticing some ‘private property’ signs. That’s not good, but we couldn’t turn around because the road was narrow and the trees were growing pretty thick on either side.

  “After about another half an hour, we were all able to turn around and head back, but by the time we reached the turnoff, the fence to the property was closed and padlocked, with us on the wrong side. We didn’t know if the owner didn’t know we were there, or maybe he did know and he wanted to teach us a lesson, but at any rate, we were stuck.”

  “Oh, no,” Angela said. “What did you do?”

  Austin picked up the narrative. “Chad and I were wearing the thickest boots, so we decided to hike down to the main road and see if we could flag down a passing car. Dad had a satellite phone, so he called the county to see if he could find out who owned the property and if they’d come let us out. We got enough cars to stop that we were all able to hitch rides back home, but the trucks were stuck until the next morning—the owner had closed the fence on his way to Laramie, so we had to wait for him to get back.”

  “You know, that’s a pretty sad story, but it’s also hysterical,” Angela said. “I’m guessing you don’t want it brought up in your interview.”

  “I don’t mind, but I’m not sure it fits,” Austin replied. It was good to see her getting some color back in her cheeks. He’d been genuinely worried about her earlier. He was still worried, but at least now she didn’t look like she would topple over any minute.

  “How is the interview coming?” Trevor asked. “Has he told you the story about the time he saved the entire game in the last ten seconds and gave the game ball to the little boy who was dying of cancer?”

  Angela’s head swiveled to face Austin. “No, he hasn’t. What happened?”

  Austin chuckled, his face flaming. “Nothing. Trevor just likes to give me a hard time—he made that whole thing up.”

  “Oh, I see.” She turned back to Trevor. “Are you jealous of your younger brother? Is that what’s going on here?”

  “Jealous? No way,” Trevor replied. “I’m proud of him. But he’s just so much fun to tease. You should ask him about that time he walked on water, or the other time when he made the earth rotate backwards. That was pretty cool.”

  “You’re not jealous, you say?”

  “Nope. Not at all.”

  Austin laughed again as he turned the steering wheel to the left, following his father down a bumpy road. This place was unfamiliar too, but he didn’t see any signs, so he figured they were safe—at least for the moment.

  They all piled out of their trucks and formed a circle around Todd, who held the ax.

  “All right, I have a surprise for you,” he called out. “This place is an actual Christmas tree farm, where we’re allowed to cut down any tree we want. We’re not going to get locked behind fences or be chased by dogs—we’re simply going to choose a tree, load it up, and be on our way.”

  “Thank goodness,” Maggie said at the same time Shawn said, “Aw, where’s the fun in that?”

  Todd ignored them both. “Your mother would like a taller tree this year, so be thinking seven to eight feet. Nice and full, not one of those puny, spindly things everyone seems so fond of these days. Spread out, but don’t get lost. Go!”

  Austin and Angela chose a direction no one else had taken, and as they walked toward the tree line, she pulled out her recorder again. “I thought it might be nice to get some shots of you on a family activity,” she said. “Is that all right?”

  “I haven’t really talked to my family about participating, but go ahead and film, and if it’s not all right with them, we can edit out those parts, right?”

  “Of course.” She pushed a few buttons, then held up the camera. “It’s Christmastime here on the Mayhew ranch. Austin, what are some of your favorite family traditions?”

  “Well, eating my mom’s good cooking, for one,” he replied. “Chopping down the tree, like we’re getting ready to do now. Going caroling—we can’t sing, but we make up for it with enthusiasm. Mostly just being together.”

  “That sounds wonderful. Now, I’ve got to be honest—your life sounds like a fairy tale. You were scouted right out of school and had the chance to get on an NFL team practically overnight. You have a fantastic family, a strong foundation, and you’re handsome as heck to boot. Were you blessed by fairies when you were a baby or something?”

  Austin laughed. “Uh, no, my life’s not magical, and getting into the NFL took a lot more work than that. I agree, though, that I have been blessed in a lot of ways.”

  “Including those good looks?”

  “Um, you said it, not me.”

  They laughed together, and she hit the off button. “You’re a natural at this,” she said. “You should think about becoming a sports commentator once you retire.”

  “Once I retire? I just got started. Are you putting me in my grave already?”

  “No, I’m just saying that it’s always good to have follow-up plans. Has DJ said what he wants to do when he hangs up his jersey?”

  “Oh, he’s mentioned a few things, but I’m not sure if he’s making plans or just shooting the breeze. He said he might be heading back home—North Carolina.”

  “Southport, right? Where he grew up?”

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t solid on it. I guess we’ll see, huh?”

  Something in his tone must have changed—she picked up on it immediately. “You don’t want him to retire.”

  “Nope. He’s been like my big brother since I joined the team—it’s going to be hard to see him leave. Football’s not a game you can play forever, but it’s still difficult to come to the end of an era.”

  “But he’s leaving behind a fantastic legacy—all the things he taught you, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Austin thought about that for a minute. “You know, that would be a great piece for you. Do a farewell to DJ and interview some of the people he’s influenced over the years.”

  “Oh, I love that idea. You’ll be one of them, right?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t suggest it and then leave you high and dry.” He paused. “Angela, are you all right? I’m not trying to open up the conversation again—I know we agreed to shelve it until later—but I just need to know that you’re okay.”

  She gave him a smile. “I’m a little shaken up, but I’m going to be all right. Thank you for caring. It means a lot.”

  He was about to say something sappy and sentimental, but just then she turned and pointed. “Look! I think we found the winning tree!”

  Austin pulled out his cell phone, snapped a picture, and sent it to his mother for her approval. Within a few minutes, Todd and Melinda crunched across the snow toward them, Todd looking like Paul Bunyan with the ax over his shoulder.

  “Let me take a swing at it, Dad,” Austin said, reaching out for the ax.

  “I’ve been chopping the Christmas tree in this family for over thirty years, son. Don’t you think I can manage it this time around?”

  Austin glanced at his mom. She looked worried, and he couldn’t tell why. Did she want him to interfere, or did she want him to let Todd do the chop
ping?

  “Come on, Dad. Give me a chance to impress my girl.”

  Todd looked at Angela with surprise. She seemed equally startled, but then she gave a bright smile, and Todd turned back to Austin. “All right, here you go, but nice smooth cuts. I don’t want you making this thing look like a beaver chewed it down.”

  “No beaver tooth marks. Got it.”

  Todd, Angela, and Melinda all stood back as Austin chopped. The trunk was only about a foot in diameter and wasn’t much hassle to cut, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his dad having another heart episode out here while they were celebrating one of their favorite traditions. That would cast a shadow over this event every year afterwards, and if he could do something to prevent it, he would.

  Once the tree was felled, Austin handed the ax back to his father, picked up the trunk, and dragged the tree out of the woods and toward the trailer. He glanced back a few times to check on Angela and noticed that she was taking pictures and more video. He didn’t know if she’d filmed him chopping the tree, and he didn’t know if that would be flattering or embarrassing.

  With the tree safely brought back to the house and set up on its stand—with 7Up in the water to keep it fresh longer—Melinda brought out a tray of hot chocolate, along with marshmallows and candy canes to put in it.

  “So, everybody,” Austin said when they were all seated in the family room, enjoying their drinks, “Angela has a question for you.”

  “Yes, he’s always been this weird,” Kyle piped up.

  “I knew it!” Angela replied. “But that’s actually not my question.” She leaned forward and set her mug on the coffee table. “As part of this interview I’m doing with Austin, your names have come up because your family is so tight knit, and I wondered if you’d all give me permission to use your names in the piece and also to get quotes from you about Austin. I took some footage earlier of the family out looking for trees, but if you’re not comfortable with that, I can delete it. You just tell me how much you want to be involved.”