Fourth Down: A Beaumont Series Next Generation Spin-off

by McLaughlin, Heidi

  “I doubt that. The team is good. We work well together.”

  She isn’t buying it, though, and frowns. “Know your value, Autumn. Once you start accepting your worth, you’ll go far in this world.” Lisette leaves me with those words lingering in the air. Does she know about the job at the Weather Channel? It wouldn’t surprise me if she did.

  I finally make my way into the computer room where I start putting my segment together. I’ve printed all the reports for the weather, not only tonight but also for next week, and piece them all together with my production manager.

  “Nothing but rain,” he says with a sigh.

  “You live in the Pacific Northwest,” I remind him. “Do you expect anything different?”

  He chuckles. “Good point.”

  I do point out that the rain will subside by the weekend and that we’ll have a small heatwave before the weather turns dreary for the remainder of fall and into winter. He, too, echoes my sentiments on how rain is better than snow, and as long as it doesn’t get too cold, he’ll be happy.

  Leon comes into the room cheerful and with a beaming smile. “Listen up,” he shouts to get everyone’s attention. “This evening, we are trying something new. We will be live for the viewers.” He says this as if we aren’t live every night. No one responds, and the only sound in the room is the hum of the computers.

  He must find this funny because he starts laughing. “Oh, I forgot. We’ll be live on social media. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He continues to chuckle at his blunder. “We are going to give the viewers a chance to chime in and ask questions or make statements. During the segment, each anchor will read comments to the television viewers and answer questions.”

  “Seems like you’re setting us up to fail,” Selene says from behind her computer. I happen to agree with her. I’ve seen some of the comments posted on social media. I’d hate to read them aloud.

  “Nah,” Leon says as he waves her statement away. “Read what you want. Use sound judgment. Obviously, if someone has an issue, we don’t need to repeat it. One of the producers will try to filter out anything rude, suggestive, or inflammatory. What we are trying to do here is reach viewers on another level. Most people have chosen to get rid of cable and basic television packages, but we need to deliver our segments to them as people who bring the news. If this doesn’t work, we’ll stop it, but for right now, this is how we will do things moving forward. You’ll share an iPad on set, you’ll laugh right along with everyone else, and you’ll do it with a smile.” Leon exits, and the rest of us look around, wondering what the hell just happened.

  “That man has lost his mind,” Selene says a few seconds after the door shuts.

  Others agree, but I keep my thoughts to myself. It’s not a bad idea, but one that should probably have a bit more insight before it’s thrust out into the wild. After I finish putting my segment together, I head back to my dressing room to change. My phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming text. My heart drops to the floor and stays there for a long moment before bouncing back into place. How can one person make me feel this way? I hold my breath as I slide my finger across the screen to open his message.

  Julius Cunningham: I hope you forgive me for being absent these past two days. I had some things to deal with.

  Really? He’s been ignoring my calls and texts but wants forgiveness? Nah, I can’t. I won’t. I deserve someone who is going to give me the courtesy of communication and worry about my feelings along with his own. I close the app and go about my business. He can wait two days for my response.

  Twenty-Eight

  Julius

  Roxy pats her bed. The sight of her doing so gives me pause. She looks so tiny in her big girl bed, yet I can see her growing like a wildflower in front of my eyes. I take the spot next to her, cross my ankles and wait for her to snuggle into my side. The book we are reading tonight, Rugby and Rosie, was a favorite of mine growing up. The pages are old, tattered, and the tape my mom added to fix a ripped page has yellowed with age. I start reading the story about two dogs, both Labradors. One is older. The other is a puppy. To some, the story is sad because a family brings a puppy home, but it’s only there to learn how to be a guide dog. I find the story heartwarming and genuine.

  By the time I finish reading, Roxy is asleep on my chest with her mouth open and likely drooling. I stay there for a moment, relishing in her warmth and the love she has for me. I can’t imagine not seeing her every day and don’t understand how Elena can stay away from her children. It doesn’t make sense. I’m a wreck when I’m gone for an away game, checking in as often as I can, using every piece of modern technology offered so that I don’t miss anything with my kids. Yet, their mother doesn’t call every day or get on video chat. Days will go by until she reaches out or calls them back, and yet she expects me to hand them over to her. There is no way in hell I’m going to allow my kids to live anywhere but my home. I don’t know what I have to do to make this happen, but I’ll do it.

  I slide out from under Roxy and place her teddy bear under her arm where I was. I’m shocked when she doesn’t wake up but also thankful. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she’ll climb into my bed and suction cup herself to my side. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to her sleeping with me, but at this point, her comfort is far more important than my own.

  Out in the living room, I sit down on the couch and flip the channels until I decide to leave the television on ESPN. I have hours until the news comes on again, having missed Autumn’s earlier segment. She doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve gathered this much by her lack of response to my text message earlier. I deserve the cold shoulder, the silence she’s giving me. I haven’t handled myself very well since we slept together, and I know my actions make it seem like I used her. I didn’t, but I’m not sure how to convey this to her.

  My phone vibrates, and my heart skips a beat, thinking it might be Autumn. With a quick glance, I see that it’s Noah. I’m at your door. Let me in.

  “Hey,” I say as I open the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Noah holds up a six-pack of beer and two bags, which smell like grease. “Peyton is at her group meeting tonight, and I thought I’d come to hang.” He walks in and heads right to the kitchen. I follow and place my hand over my stomach as it growls. Noah laughs.

  “I gotta say, this is a surprise, but I’m damn thankful you brought Killer Burger.”

  “The only thing that sucks about take-out is we don’t get bottomless fries.”

  “I don’t care at this point.” Noah pushes the bag toward me while he twists the caps off two beers and I rip the bag of fries open, stuffing one in my mouth. The only thing missing is a chocolate shake. Noah takes the seat next to me, opens the other bag, and hands me my burger.

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing,” he says.

  I nod and take a few bites before setting it down. “So, why are you really here?”

  Noah says nothing until he’s swallowed his food. “No reason. I went out for a burger, saw your building, and thought, what the hell? It’s been a while since we’ve done this.”

  “And that’s it?” I’m certain Autumn told Peyton something.

  “Yep,” he says. “Just came to chill and to see how you’re doing and to see how things went today.”

  I need some liquid courage to get through the drama of the day. Noah is probably the only person I’d ever confide in about anything personal because I know he won’t say anything to anyone, aside from Peyton. He’s told me from day one he’ll never keep a secret from her. I admire that about him. Truthfully, I want what he and Peyton have. They’re so aware of each other. Anytime you’re in a room with them, you can sense their connection. Noah always knows where his wife is and is by her side if he feels she needs something. Elena and I were never in tune with each other like that.

  “Well, I filed. Elena will get the papers tomorrow. I’d like to think she’ll sign and send it back, but I know her. Thi
s is going to set off a shit storm. I asked for full custody, with reasonable visitation. No alimony. She can keep the house in Los Angeles. And then after I filed, I went to therapy and talked about my feelings and how frustrated I am, and Autumn.”

  “Autumn, why? Are you guys serious?”

  I shrug and take another drink. “I suppose we could be if I weren’t an idiot. I sort of left her in limbo for a few days and didn’t return any of her calls or texts.”

  Noah looks at me and shakes his head. “Peyton is going to whack you upside your head.”

  “I know, and I deserve it. Autumn is amazing, and I’ve probably lost her.”

  “You think so?”

  My shoulder lifts again. “Would you pursue a relationship with a woman who isn’t divorced and raising two kids, who can’t be bothered to call you after you’ve slept . . .” I let my words trail off. I never intended to tell Noah about Autumn and I taking our relationship to the next level.

  “Dude, you didn’t?”

  The up and down motion of my head is so slight, I’m not sure he notices until he gives me the most exaggerated eye-roll. “You ignored her calls.”

  “Let me grab you some salt to pour in my wounds,” I say.

  “Peyton isn’t going to slap you. She’s going to flat out beat your ass.”

  “Believe me, I’m doing a fine job of that on my own.”

  There’s a noise in the hall, causing Noah and me to halt our conversation. Reggie walks into the kitchen, surprised to see Noah sitting there. “Oh, hey, Mr. Westbury,” Reggie says as he pads toward us. As close as Noah and I are, I’m trying to teach my children to respect adults. Noah has told the kids they can call him by his first name, which I appreciate, but I have told the kids they can only do that on game day.

  “What’s up, Bud?”

  “Nothing. I heard some talking, thought I’d come to investigate.”

  “Want some fries?” Noah pushes the bag toward Reggie, who happily takes a few.

  “Do we have any ice cream?” my son asks. I shrug and tell him to look in the freezer. He does and pulls out a half-gallon of something. “Can I make a milkshake?”

  “Of course. Do you want my help?”

  Reggie shakes his head and proceeds to grab the things he needs. Noah nods toward him and says quietly, “How is he taking everything?”

  Another lift of my shoulder. “Some days are really good. Others, not so much. He knows his mom is seeing someone, but he also knows I’ve been dating Autumn. He seems to like her, though. He’s hard on Elena; calls her out on her bullshit. He tries to call his mom almost every day and maybe speaks to her every third day.”

  “I can’t imagine. After I met my dad and he had to go back to L.A. for work, we talked every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t remember exactly how long it was, but I think he moved back to Beaumont within a month of meeting me. And now, I talk to him and my mom every day. I can’t imagine not speaking to them, especially at Reggie’s age.”

  “He talks to my parents more than he talks to his mother. I hate it.” I see Reggie struggling with the ice cream and get up to help him. I don’t take over but put my hand on his and help him scoop the rounds into the blender. I stand back while he measures the milk, and I tell him I think I’m going to make one after him.

  “Mr. Westbury, do you want a milkshake?” Reggie asks.

  “Yes, I think I do,” he tells my son, who beams back at him. I take the scoop and carve out more rounds of ice cream and then head back to my seat. Reggie gives Noah the first shake and then goes back to make mine.

  “This is really good, Reggie. Thank you,” Noah says. “Is there a secret ingredient?”

  “Miss Meghan adds a dash of vanilla.”

  A dash of vanilla? Who is this boy in my kitchen?

  “Well, it’s very good. I’m going to have to tell Miss Peyton to do the same next time.”

  Reggie brings my shake over. His smile is so bright he looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I hate that this divorce shit has dimmed his light. He should be happy and carefree all the time.

  After Reggie makes his milkshake, he puts the ice cream and milk away and then comes to sit down between Noah and me. Instantly, he takes a fry and dips it into his shake. “So good.”

  I take my son's lead, as does Noah. Before we know it, the large bag of fries is gone, as are the shakes, and the three of us are sitting back, rubbing our bellies. Reggie lets out a burp—one that rivals anything I could’ve done—and starts laughing as he covers his mouth. I look at him in horror, but Noah follows up with his own, impressive belch.

  “What is wrong with the two of you?” I ask, acting completely horrified. I move away from my disgusting mates and start to clean up the mess, shaking my head as I go. I’m not mad at Reggie, although I am slightly taken back by his actions. He is usually very civilized. Noah, on the other hand, not so much. When Peyton isn’t around, he’s as crass as the next guy. Reggie apologizes and begins to help me clean up.

  “I should get going,” Noah says as he throws his wrapper away. “Peyton’s group will be done shortly, and I want to be home when she returns.”

  “I meant to ask you earlier,” I say as we walk toward the door. “I thought she finished up with the group before you guys got married?”

  “She had, but sometimes she needs their support. She works to avoid triggers but saw some wreckage on the news the other day and had some trouble decompressing.”

  “Damn, trauma like that never goes away, does it?”

  Noah shakes his head. “Nope, but at least she recognizes when she needs to talk to others and doesn’t hold her feelings in. I’d rather her go to her group than bottle her emotions up.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Noah and I say goodbye, and I tell him I’ll see him at the facility tomorrow for practice. I head to Reggie’s room, knocking quietly on his door before opening it. I find him sitting on his bed with a smile on his face.

  “I’m glad you came out to visit,” I tell him as I go in and sit down next to him.

  “I think we should have people over more often.”

  “I do too.” I pull my son toward me and kiss the top of his head.

  “When can Miss Autumn come over?” he asks.

  I don’t have the heart to tell him she and I haven’t spoken in a few days. I don’t want him to think she is like his mother, and I don’t want him to be mad at me for my stupidity. “When she’s not working, you’re in school.”

  “Yeah, that sucks. Career day is coming up. Maybe I can invite her.”

  “What about me?” I ask.

  Reggie looks at me and says, “Let’s be real, Dad. The likelihood of going to the NFL is slim. Miss Autumn’s job is more realistic.”

  “When did you become so smart?”

  He shrugs. “I have a pretty great Dad to teach me things.”

  I pull him forward again and kiss him. “Thanks, bud. And thanks for the milkshakes. We definitely needed those tonight.”

  Reggie tells me he’s going to read for a little bit before he goes to bed. I don’t know how long I sit on the edge of his bed, but his asking about Autumn really put her at the forefront of my mind.

  “I’m going to go down to Autumn’s apartment and leave her a note. I won’t be gone for more than ten minutes. Think you can take care of things?” He doesn’t have to do anything but be present if Roxy were to wake up. We have a state-of-the-art alarm system in place.

  “Are you inviting her over?” he asks. His question makes me wonder if he thinks she’ll spend the night or if he’s trying to parent me and is subtly telling me it’s too late.

  “I am, but only for a bit. I don’t want to leave you and your sister alone, so it’s easier for her to come over when she gets off work.”

  “Okay. Let me know when you’re back.” And just like that, my son has become my parent for a few minutes while I run a quick errand. I have no idea if Autumn will come over when she gets home, b
ut I’m hoping. I really want to talk to her face-to-face, and I want to do it tonight.

  Twenty-Nine

  Autumn

  I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically, by the time I reach my door. Since I went off the air and the entire drive back to my place, I ignored my phone. Julius texted, and at last count, I think there were five or maybe six notifications from him. Perhaps I’m being childish by not looking at them to see what he has to say, but my feelings are hurt, and I need a few more minutes and the comfort of my home before I read what he has to say. Deep down, I know there’s an apology followed by the classic “we’re better off as friends” line. The thing is, I knew better than to get involved. His demeanor when we first met should’ve been a clear sign that we aren’t right for each other.

  But he’s so damn hot.

  “Looks aren’t everything,” I mutter to myself as I walk toward my door. With my key poised, I pause and look at the folded piece of paper taped to my door. I don’t know why, but I look up and down the hall, almost as if I’m going to catch the culprit who dared to leave whatever this is for me.

  My heart races, and I have a slight issue swallowing. What if I have a stalker? I’ve seen some of the comments left on ChatGram. They’re lewd and somewhat troubling. I’ve heard stories of stalkers finding out where people live and how presents start showing up at your place. Personal safety is one of the first things they teach us—never give out personal information. But with the internet the way it is, you can find just about anyone these days. This stupid piece of paper, which could be harmless, makes me wish I had a fake name, something I chose not to do because I like the puns that came along with Autumn being a weather anchor.

  “Pull up your big girl panties, Autumn.”

  Except my pep talk does nothing for the lack of courage I feel right now. If this note is threatening, there are video cameras in the halls and by every entrance. For the most part, my building is very secure, and I can’t imagine someone would risk coming in here to leave me a stupid note.