Her Second Chance Hometown Groom

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I was going to give this to you tomorrow under the mistletoe, but when I told Maggie that, she laughed. That wasn’t the reaction I was going for, so I changed my plans a little bit.”

  “What reaction were you going for?” Angela asked.

  “I hoped she’d melt and tell me what an awesome guy I am. Nope—no such luck.” He held out the box. “Please note, there’s no mistletoe in sight.”

  “Duly noted.” She took the package, her hands trembling. Whatever was inside, she knew it meant a great deal to Austin because he was so eager for her to have it. He wouldn’t be acting this way if it was a Magic 8-Ball or something like that.

  She pulled back the wrapping to uncover a beautiful hand-crafted box with a brass hinge. “It’s to hold your hummingbird ornament so you can bring it back to San Antonio with you,” he said. “It’s not very fancy—I haven’t done a lot of woodworking, but Kyle helped me, and I think it turned out nice.”

  She couldn’t reply. She just stared at it, turning it over and over in her hands.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  She blinked, looking up and seeing his anxious face. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . .” She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears back. “That ornament is one of the sweetest gifts I’ve ever been given, and the fact that you made this box for me to keep it in . . . Thank you. I will treasure this the rest of my life.” She reached out and touched his hand. “I mean it. Thank you.”

  He smiled, his emotions swimming in his eyes. It was time—she knew it was. Knew it had to be. She carefully set the box on the table, then moved over to the window to watch the snow fall ever so gently on the tree branches. “You asked me a question the other day.”

  She didn’t have to explain what day or what question. He knew—it had been hanging between them even though they’d tried to push it to the background. “When I broke up with you, I honestly thought it was for the best. I wasn’t the same after the attack—it did something to my brain, to my heart, to my beliefs about the world, and I felt as though I’d entered some kind of parallel universe, a place where you, with all your goodness and light, couldn’t come. It didn’t occur to me until I saw you again all these years later that you could have been the light to pull me from my darkness.”

  “I would have liked to try,” he replied softly.

  “I know that now, but at the time . . . at the time, I wasn’t seeing things clearly. It was good for me to stay away for a while. My biggest regret is staying away so long.” She turned and looked at him through the tears now sliding down her cheeks. “But I’m here now, if you still want me.”

  He crossed the distance between them in two strides and cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “Do I want you? Is this a trick question? I’ve been aching for you, Angela, like a punch in the gut. I wanted to come after you every single day, but I thought I was being supportive, and . . . we both needed to see things more clearly.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved, the only girl I ever will love, and if you walk away from me again now . . . well, this time I’d come after you.”

  She couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that escaped, but then she grew serious as he kissed her. She’d been waiting for that kiss for years without knowing that’s what she was missing, and she melted into his arms as he took a step closer. Her senses whirled as she slid her hands up his arms, feeling both his strength and his gentleness.

  He released her all too soon, and she smiled into his eyes. “I love you, Austin Mayhew,” she whispered.

  “And I love you.” He playfully tugged one of her curls. “I’d sure like to marry you, Angela Dingle.”

  She’d thought her heart couldn’t hold any more happiness, but she’d been wrong. “And I’d sure like to marry you.”

  He grinned. “Sounds like a plan. We should tell the folks, but let’s wait until after the new year to set a date, all right? As soon as we get back to Texas, I’ve got to concentrate—I have a reputation to repair, and I need to give Tommy a reason to quit gambling.”

  “Absolutely. Come on—let’s tell the folks.” She led the way back to the family room, but they didn’t have to announce anything at all. Their faces must have given them away because the room ricocheted with a loud cheer.

  Austin would be coming to pick Angela up in an hour. She grinned as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. They’d pick out a ring once they got back to San Antonio, and they’d announce their engagement right after the game against the Miami Surf on Actual Christmas Eve. Austin wanted the whole world to know as soon as possible, and she couldn’t throw water on that kind of enthusiasm. He loved her, he wanted to shout it to the sky, and who was she to stop him?

  She glanced at the clock again, then rolled over and closed her eyes. She’d doze for another half hour and then get up. Melinda had said they wouldn’t be having breakfast until ten, and sleeping in sounded wonderful—especially since she’d spent an hour on the phone with Becca the night before, catching her up on everything.

  But then she heard a noise, like the front door closing, and she sat up. The crunch of gravel outside, a car . . .

  She jumped out of bed and ran over to the window. A taxi was pulling away from the house, bright yellow against the gray of the morning.

  “Mom?” she called out, her heart starting to beat fast. She dashed out of her room and down the hall. Her mother’s bedroom door stood open, her room empty. She wasn’t in the living room, she wasn’t in the kitchen . . .

  Angela’s heart filled with dread. Something wasn’t right—something was horribly wrong.

  She noticed something in the middle of the kitchen table, a piece of paper sticking up between the salt and pepper shakers, and she picked it up. Her name was written on the front.

  Sinking into a chair, she unfolded it and began to read, almost having to force herself to understand the words.

  Angela,

  I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me, but I’ve gone away for a while. I’m not sure how long—however long it takes. I’m an alcoholic, and I’m checking myself into a clinic.

  Angela dropped the paper onto the table. What? How . . .?

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. The signs were there—they’d been there Angela’s whole life, but she’d never put them together. It was easier, she guessed, to believe her mother didn’t love her than to realize what was really going on.

  Did her father know? Did the whole town know? Was Angela the only one who didn’t?

  After taking another breath, she kept reading.

  The house is paid for, and I called Mr. West last night about coming over to keep an eye on the place. You don’t have to worry about it.

  Angela, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life—too many to count. Maybe I’m fooling myself and it’s too late to start over, but I figure, I’ve got to try. I’ll write you when I’m settled and let you know where I am.

  Mom

  Down at the bottom, scribbled there as an afterthought—or maybe something she didn’t have the courage to say sooner—were the words, Thank you for telling me you love me. You gave me the courage to do this.

  Angela sat there until she heard a knock on the door, unable to move. Then she stood up and opened it, handing Austin the letter without saying a word.

  “Wow.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he read the note again. “Just . . . wow. This is amazing. She’s so brave.”

  Angela looked up, surprised at his response. She hadn’t decided yet how she felt—embarrassed, betrayed, and confused all came to mind. But Austin sounded impressed. “Brave?”

  He nodded. “It takes courage to admit something like that, and even more courage to get help. She’ll be all right, Angela. She’s on the path now.”

  His words helped her see what she’d been missing. She’d been focusing on the alcoholism, but he was focusing on the recovery. She nodded. “You’re right. She’s probably in a healthier emotional state right now than she has be
en for years.”

  “You didn’t have any idea?”

  “None. She kept it well hidden. I just keep wondering how long, you know? For my whole life, or just part … I have so many questions. I hope . . . I hope I get the chance to ask them.” She stood up. “All right, Mr. Mayhew, I’m ready for Christmas. Lead the way.”

  “I’m more than happy to, but I think you might want to change first.”

  In the panic of the morning, she’d forgotten that she was wearing her Grinch footie pajamas. “Um, yeah. Sit tight—I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter 11

  Stepping off the plane in San Antonio was like going through a portal into another world. The press was everywhere, light bulbs flashing, reporters wanting to know how Austin’s Christmas vacation had gone. He was used to it now, but it had sure taken him a while to get to that point when he’d first joined the team.

  He and Angela had decided to exit the plane separately so he wouldn’t be fielding questions about her when he should be concentrating on the game. He knew it was the right choice, but he missed having her by his side, and he couldn’t wait to see her after practice. Being away from her for a whole day seemed like an impossible task, and he grinned. Yep, he’d better marry that girl, and soon.

  DJ, Sy, Rev, and Jett all seemed in better spirits when they showed up on the field. He wanted to ask how they’d each done with their pact, but he didn’t want to pry—they’d talk about it when they were ready, and for now, they needed to focus on the game. Two days until they’d face down the Surf, and they had a vacation to shake off.

  Austin worked harder in practice that night than he had for a while, and he sensed a renewed determination in the other guys, too. His muscles would likely be screaming at him the next day, but he’d welcome it—it was the kind of pain that went along with honest effort, the kind that reminds you that you’re alive and you have a purpose. He’d always had a dream and a vision before, but now he had a new target—creating a home for his soon-to-be wife. That was a whole lot more fun than creating a home just for himself.

  “Maggie?” Angela blinked at the girl standing on her doorstep. “Come in! What are you doing here?”

  Maggie came inside Angela’s apartment and dropped her overnight bag inside the front door. “Are you surprised? I’ve never seen Austin play in his huge new arena, and I thought now would be the perfect time—counting down to the playoffs and all that.”

  “Of course I’m surprised, but in a good way.” Angela gave Maggie a quick hug, then invited her to come into the living room. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

  “This is a great apartment! When I move out, I’m going to get an apartment just like this one.”

  “With a leaky kitchen sink?”

  “Absolutely. Leaky sinks add character.” Maggie tucked one leg beneath her as she sat on the couch. “I know it’s only been . . . what, a couple of days . . . but have you heard from your mom yet?”

  Angela nodded. “I got an email from the intake nurse at the rehab center. They said Mom arrived safely and that she’ll call in a week. They like their patients to wait that long before they start reaching out—they should concentrate on themselves before they worry about everyone else.”

  “I think that’s wise. And how are you holding up?”

  Angela thought about that question. “I’m okay. Austin helped me realize this is a good thing, not the end of the world, and I’m so relieved that she’s getting help. I have hope that we might even have a good relationship someday, and that’s a hope I’ve never had before.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad.” Maggie smiled, her eyes a little watery. “And you and Austin are engaged . . . I couldn’t be happier for you right now. I really couldn’t.”

  “Well, if everything goes my way, you’ll have another reason to be happy for me very soon. My interview with Austin is going to air right after the game tomorrow, and the head honchos at the station will see it. Mr. Wiltbank copied me in on the recommendation he’s sending in, and . . . knock on wood . . . I’ll be the next morning host.”

  Maggie squealed. “And if you don’t get it?”

  “If I don’t get it, I’ll know that I did my best, I was myself, and I’ll still have Austin. I guess squishing around in the mud and talking to frogs will have been worth it after all.”

  “So . . . would you say that Austin is your frog prince?” Maggie asked, smirking.

  Angela had no response for that. Instead, she threw a cushion right at Maggie’s head.

  Angela was covering the game, so she couldn’t give Maggie much undivided attention. Maggie didn’t mind, though, because she was following Angela around instead, getting VIP treatment and media access and all sorts of things she never would have gotten as a “regular” person, as she called it.

  Angela tried to keep her voice calm and neutral as she interviewed the players, spoke with the coaches, and turned the time back over to the anchors in the studio, but her stomach was in knots, and every time the Rebels had a fumble, she thought she might throw up. They needed this win—they needed it. They had to win for Terry—they had to win to get their self-respect back. This was for them more than it was for the fans. Winning this one would give them the momentum to win the next, and then they’d be in the playoffs, a place where they had always deserved to be. It had just been a difficult year.

  During a quiet lull, she and Maggie went up and grabbed some snacks from the refreshment booth, then headed back down. She usually avoided the concessions, but Maggie said she was dying for some nachos. They chatted with a couple people in line, then headed back for the press area. This game was going to pass quickly, and Angela needed to be on her toes.

  Back and forth her head swiveled as she tracked the movement of the ball. Every time it got within a few feet of Austin, she almost stopped breathing, and when he was actually carrying it, she thought she might pass out. She just wasn’t built for this kind of stress. Could she really be a football wife?

  When at last the final play was called and the score flipped in favor of the Rebels, Angela wanted to collapse on the sidelines with relief. Instead, she turned to the camera with a bright smile on her face. “And there you have it, everyone! Our players were brilliant tonight, moving a step closer to the playoffs and definitely showing off their team spirit as they’ve rallied after some tough breaks. You’ve heard it several times tonight—they were motivated to do their best by the recent passing of their owner, a man they loved and admired, and this goes to show that we can turn our grief into something beautiful.”

  She glanced to her right and saw Austin pushing toward her through the crowd. They’d talked about this beforehand, and she grinned. “Let’s take a moment to congratulate Austin Mayhew, cornerback for the winning team. Austin, you seemed extra inspired tonight. In addition to the memory of your owner, what kept you going when it seemed you might not win?”

  “I dedicated tonight’s game to my good friend Tommy back in Frogwater,” Austin replied, giving a thumbs-up to the camera.

  “There’s nothing like friends from home to encourage us to do better,” Angela said. “Grant, back to you.”

  As soon as she was given the all-clear, Angela threw her arms around Austin’s neck, almost knocking him off balance. “That was amazing. I can’t believe what I just saw.”

  He laughed, squeezing her back. “I’m glad you were down here with us and not hiding away somewhere like our other games.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty silly of me. If I’d realized the cornerback was going to fall madly in love with me, I would have started covering the games a long time ago.”

  “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” He looked into her eyes, and for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her right there on the sidelines. She wouldn’t have minded, actually. Who cared if it showed up in the tabloids before they were ready to announce their engagement? It would all come out in the wash anyway.

  Instead, though, Austin’s teammates came u
p behind him, whooping and cheering, clapping each other on the backs. “That was epic,” Jett said, wiping his forehead with the towel draped over his shoulder. “Wish we could play like that every time.”

  “I think Austin’s got himself a good luck charm,” DJ said, nodding toward Angela.

  “Yeah, I do, but we’re keeping it under wraps for just a little bit longer,” Austin replied.

  “How did this even happen? I mean, a football player and a sports reporter?” Rev sounded incredulous.

  “Let’s just say . . . fixing old regrets turned out to be a very good thing for me.” Austin turned to Angela. “Are you ready for an after party?”

  “You bet. I’m sorry to say, I have to bring my cameraman along.”

  “That’s all right. He’s a good guy. How are you, Bobby?”

  “Just fine, Mr. Mayhew,” Bobby replied. “I guess this means I need to find a new date for the station party tomorrow, though . . .”

  Angela grinned. “Bobby, meet Maggie. I think the two of you will get along great.”

  They made a strange procession—Angela on Austin’s arm, a cameraman trailing behind, the team surrounded by well-wishers and showered with bottles of champagne. Not all of Angela’s questions had been answered—she knew she had a long road to walk with her mother yet, and she still had to wait on the outcome of her new job, but she knew one thing deeply—it didn’t matter what happened from here on out because she had a support system like none other, and she would be lifted up over and over again as many times as she fell.

  Just before they entered the party, Austin tugged her to the side and into his arms. “Are you happy?” he whispered into her hair.

  “Of course,” she replied. “It’s actually almost illegal how happy I am.”

  “Good.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “That’s my goal every day for the rest of our lives—to keep you as happy as you are this very moment.”