Three & Out

by Laura Chapman

  Team MacLaughlin could also do with reviewing her running back matchups more thoroughly before setting a lineup. Though Deangelo Darling can usually be counted on to make a big splash, this week his team faced its toughest opponents. She would’ve done better to bench him in favor of Pat Lionel, who had his personal best game.

  Real Coaches’ Wives Record: 4-4

  Chapter Seventeen

  OKAY. I TAKE BACK ANY nice thing I’ve ever said about the Fantasy Pro. That guy is a dick and I swear he’s out for me. “Took it lying down?” I don’t know what’s more offensive, the blatant sexism of such a statement (and you know this whole fantasy business is laced with machismo) or that he thinks I didn’t put up a fight.

  In fairness, I didn’t put up a fight last week in the Real Coaches’ Wives league. As per my arrangement with Lisa, I did, in fact, take a knee, which . . . I suppose is kind of like taking defeat lying down. That wasn’t the case this week, though. I didn’t forget to set a lineup. I didn’t intentionally play my weakest available players. No, my team just took a good old-fashioned beating. It wasn’t as if I didn’t try.

  I’ll have to work a little harder at not appearing bothered by my run of bad fantasy luck in approximately two minutes. Christopher just texted to say that he and the rest of the local league members are on their way over to Scott’s to watch Thursday Night Football. I’ve found it is best in these situations not to seem upset by the dire status of your team (or rather teams) when you’re about to face your opponents.

  I can’t believe it’s already Thursday night. The past few days have flown by with long hours helping Meg with wedding plans topped off by my furiously working on the book proposal—just in case. I’ve hardly had time to worry about anything else. But now, I need to focus on my fantasy game. I can’t let the rest of the league think I’ve gone soft, just because I have a losing record.

  Besides, I have another reason for showing strength. In the chaos that was this week—and in my attempt to avoid talking with Amelia again before she was ready to give me the answer I want—I haven’t actually spoken with Wade yet. And, oh boy, do I have a bone to pick with him.

  He’s supposed to be Brook’s friend. More importantly, he’s our brother. Maybe not by blood, but by marriage, and that’s a pretty solid bond from my perspective. If J.J. is involved in some kind of trouble, isn’t he obligated to tell us? Isn’t he bound by the same sense of loyalty and concern for our well-being that Scott had when he told me he suspected something was up a few days ago?

  If I find out J.J. is on the run from something more than a thirtieth birthday crisis after all—and he kept that from us—I’m going to make sure he and Amelia are capped off at three children.

  (Maybe I need to take one of those anger management classes I suggested to Brook. I’ve been awfully preoccupied with sterilizing the men in my life lately as a form of punishment. That can’t be healthy.)

  I’m so eager to talk to Wade I’m driving Scott crazy. Every time I push the curtain aside to look out the window and ask when everyone is supposed to be here, I can almost see a vein pop out of his forehead. I’m sure that’s why he sent me to the kitchen to check on the Crock-Pots filled with the sandwich fixings. Normally, he knows that kind of an order would earn him a smack on the backside of his head, but I feel bad for making him a casualty of nerves. For that reason, I’m going to pretend those pots desperately need to be stirred, even though we both know they’re fine.

  I let my mind wander again while I stir the mushrooms, peppers, and onions for my vegetarian Phillies. What if J.J. really did come into work drunk and he punched a customer? He was maybe even sober, but he snapped when the person told him they’d never watched a football game and they had no idea who he was. It is possible Anderson tried to appease the customers with a cash settlement or even one hell of a deal on a Jaguar. It’s also just as likely they pressed charges and J.J. skipped town before sentencing.

  I really should figure out how to search court records. That stuff has to be public, otherwise how do the newspapers get it? You know, I bet you can find that information online. Maybe I should get on my laptop right now and try my hand at detective work.

  The front door opens before I make it to my bedroom and I switch directions. I release a breath of relief when I see Wade enter with a six-pack and no family. If there’s going to be any drama tonight, I’d prefer we keep it between ourselves. I’ve already worked Amelia up over the book deal. I’d feel bad stressing her out about anything else. At least on this trip. And I like that the girls love me. They might be a little scared if the saw me unleash the full power of my anger. It’s best not to rock either of those dynamics.

  Though my instinct is to grab Wade by the ear and drag him into the kitchen, forcing him to spill everything, at the last minute I decide to go with a less direct approach. I’ve gone this long without knowing the truth. What’s another half hour?

  Wade’s face brightens when he spots me, and I feel a flicker of guilt. The poor guy has no clue I’m about to give him hell. No. It’s his fault for hiding anything from me in the first place. I can’t let my soft spot for him keep me from hitting him hard.

  “Harper.” He pulls me in for a tight hug. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He nervously glances behind me. “I mean, good to see you.”

  “Don’t worry,” Scott calls out. “She’s not here.”

  “What—”

  “Anderson is about ready to pull out the last of his hair. Kelsey is driving him nuts, which means she’s driving all of us nuts.”

  “I thought you guys said she was managing all of the work well.”

  “Oh, she’s fine with the work, but she’s still driving us nuts.” He releases me from the hug and holds me at arm’s length. “I’m supposed to find out if there’s any chance you’ll leave your husband and come back to your old job. Anderson even says you can have his office and parking spot.”

  “Ooh, tempting. Unfortunately, I’m pretty much set with Brook.”

  “Too bad.”

  “It’s a damn shame,” Christopher says, walking into the room and dangling an arm around my neck. “It’s been nice having you around, BK. No one else can talk football or finish Meg’s to-do lists like you.”

  I elbow him in the side for bringing up my old nickname—and that he’s still calling me a buzzkill, even affectionately—and slip out of his grasp while he rubs his rib. I turn back to Wade. “It was nice of you guys to give J.J. a leave of absence. I hope you’re not too short-staffed.”

  The sparkle fades from his eyes. “We’re making it work.”

  Oh, busted. He’s totally keeping something from me, and now he knows I know. There’s no point in delaying this anymore. I might as well force the truth out of him.

  “Let’s get those beers in the fridge.” I grab his arm and lead him into the kitchen, darting a warning glance at Christopher that should say “back off.” Scott picks up on my subtle hint and pulls Christopher into a conversation.

  Once we’re alone, I waste no more time. “Wade, I’m going to ask you a question, and I hope you’ll cut the bull and give me a straight answer.”

  His eyes widen and he tries to slip away. I tighten my grip and he winces. “Okay.”

  “What happened to J.J. before he decided to hide out at my house?”

  “I told you—”

  “Wade.” I squeeze tighter. If he gives me any more trouble, I might have to dig in my nails. I haven’t done that since I was ten, but I also haven’t had a cause since then. “I know there’s more to it than what you guys have told me. I know he’s in trouble and that he’s running away from something.”

  He hesitates and I prepare to dig in. “Okay! I’ll talk.”

  I loosen my grip ever so slightly. “Then talk.”

  “That night of the draft—the second one—J.J. got a DUI.”

  I gape at him a second before recovering. “A DUI?”

  “That’s driving under—”

  “I k
now what a DUI is. I just don’t know why you’d keep something like that from us.” I tighten my grip again and he yelps. “Did they revoke his license?”

  “Of course. At least until he goes to court and maybe longer. His lawyer says he might get it reinstated with a fine. It depends on what they decide about the car he totaled.”

  “He totaled a car?”

  “Yeah, Anderson was pretty pissed about it. He told J.J. a hundred times the showroom cars aren’t for driving, but . . .” He catches the shock on my face and finally manages to slip his arm out of my grasp. “J.J. walked away without more than a scratch and no one else was involved. It could have been worse. Still, HQ wanted him fired, but you know Anderson has a soft spot for him.”

  “How did we not hear about this? The local papers had to cover that. They’re always writing about the troubles former players get in to.”

  “It got buried by a story about a prospect from California. I’m not even sure it made it online. I almost think that bothered J.J. more than anything else.”

  It probably would. And it gives more context to some of the comments J.J. has made. “So how did he end up at my door?”

  “The lawyer advised him to get away for a bit and lie low. Just until the sentencing. Anderson had to suspend him—it was the lightest punishment he could give. Everyone hoped he’d go to rehab. When we found out where he landed, and who he was with, we figured it was the next best thing.”

  As it all comes together in my mind, I think about how many times I’ve let J.J. borrow my car. How many times I’ve picked up beer for him at the store. How many times I’ve drank with him. I’ve been an enabler when I should have been trying to help. Granted, I didn’t know the specifics, but I knew his drinking was out of control.

  “When does he have to go back before the judge?”

  “Second week of December.”

  “Okay.” Wade takes that as permission to leave, but I press my hand against his shoulder, forcing him to stay put. “Wait a minute. We need to have a little talk about family loyalty.”

  By the time I’m done with my lecture, Wade has sworn up and down it won’t happen again. I can tell he has genuine guilt, so I stand down and let him go back into the living room. I wait until halftime to call Brook with what I’ve discovered.

  He sighs heavily and mutters a handful of swear words. “We figured as much. We both knew there was more to his story than what he’d told us.”

  “We just wanted him to be sincere when he said he was trying to figure out his life on his own. What are we going to do?”

  “What can we do, Harper? The guy is a grown man. He’s going to have to fight this battle on his own.”

  “I suppose I should stop letting him borrow my car.”

  “He’s been driving your car?” It’s impossible to miss the edge in Brook’s voice.

  “I didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to be driving.”

  “True . . .”

  “We’ll figure this out.” We have about a million other things to deal with first, but we’ll get there. “Let’s wait till I get back to talk about it.”

  “Fair enough. And Harper?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell Wade if he ever keeps something like this from us again—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m way ahead of you on that.”

  He chuckles then. “That’s my girl.”

  I’M MORE THAN A LITTLE surprised when Amelia offers to drive me to the airport Saturday morning. We haven’t spoken since we had dinner a few days ago. In all fairness to Amelia, it’s not her fault. I’ve been busy with wedding plans and I’m still stewing about the secret Wade—and all of my other so-called friends at the dealership—kept from me for the past two months. Once they found out J.J. was staying with Brook and me, the least they could have done was prepare us with the full story of what we were dealing with.

  It’s a short drive to the airport. Neither of say much of anything beyond, “Is the car warm enough for you” and “It’s fine, thanks.”

  “Harper.” She lets out a heavy breath. “You’re disappointed in me, and I’m sorry to disappoint you. I just don’t know.”

  “It’s kind of scary.”

  “Terrifying.” Her grip tightens on the steering wheel. “There’s so much going on already in my world, and I’m scared I won’t give this enough time and we’ll fail, because of me.”

  “You won’t screw this up for us.”

  “I could.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think there’s any way we can fail at this.”

  “That’s awfully optimistic.”

  “It’s not about optimism. It’s about the journey. It’s about trying. Even if we don’t sell any books, we’ll have done our best and that’s still success.”

  “Okay, now you’re being so Zen. Are you sure you’re Harper?”

  “Oh, I’m not Zen about everything. I get what you mean about the fear of the unknown.” I realize now is the moment I can open up about the other subject I’ve wanted to talk to her about. Maybe if I confide in her the fear that’s been plaguing my mind, we’ll understand each other better. “I’m not sure it’s right talking to you about this because you’re his sister—”

  “Oh my God.” She pulls onto the shoulder and slams on her brakes. “Please tell me you and Brook aren’t having problems.”

  “What? No. We’re great.”

  “Thank God.” She covers her heart and takes a few deep breaths. “I don’t know what I’d do if you guys—”

  “Trust me, we’re fine. We’re solid.” I cover her free hand with mine and squeeze. “There is an issue we don’t see eye to eye on right now.”

  “Okay.” She nods and pulls back onto the road. Once she’s back at full speed, she asks, “What is it?”

  “Again, I’m not entirely sure I should—”

  “We’re past that. Just spill.”

  “A few weeks ago, Brook told me he wants us to try for a baby.” I spare her the details about how he brought it up. It really doesn’t matter, and I’m sure some people—who aren’t me—would think it was cute. “But I’m not sure we’re ready.”

  “That is a pretty big deal to spring on someone—‘hey, will you have my baby?’ Granted, I’ve never been asked. It always just seems to happen.” She pats her belly. “But why don’t you feel ready? Is something going on with your jobs?” Panic flashes on her face again. “Is Brook getting fired?”

  We’ve spared our family and friends back home the up-and-down circus that is Brook’s job with the Sounds. They aren’t stupid, though. They have to know everyone’s jobs are on the line with the team losing game after game. “That’s not it.” Because even if it’s a factor, I can’t pretend it’s the main thing holding me back. “I just . . .”

  “You’re not ready. I get that. Not that you wouldn’t be a great mom, I’m sure you would. And we all know Brook is going to be dad of the year.”

  “Yeah, I’m not worried about him.” If ever there was anyone who was born a dad, I think it’d be Brook.

  “He has the best parenting instincts. Wade is great with the girls, and he’s excited about the new baby, too. It’s not a fair comparison, but you’ll have a good partner in Brook. He always knew just what to do with the girls.”

  “I know he’ll be a great father. Maybe the best. Knowing that only makes me feel guiltier about worrying.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “It’s the timing.”

  “You mean his work schedule?” Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Trust me, what he will lack in time, he’ll make up for in quality. And I have a feeling he’ll make the time.”

  “That’s not it. But, quick sidebar, are you saying he doesn’t make time for me now because I’m not—”

  She holds up her hands. “Let’s not go down that road. We both know that’s not how it works. Granted, I’m not there every day to see what your relationship looks like this season, but you’ve been on the phone texti
ng him all day—and it’s a game day.”

  “No, you’re right. He’s doing a better job of making time for me this season.” And I knew I’d be a widow every fall when I married him.

  “Then do you mean timing in general?”

  “Exactly. It’s all happening so fast and all at once.” My heart starts racing now, and I stumble over my words in my hurry to say them. “We weren’t even dating two years ago, and now we’re starting a family?”

  “It’s scary.”

  “Terrifying.” We share a grin, each appreciating the way we’ve played parrot to each other. “I still feel like I’m trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do with my life. Having a child on top of that . . .”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  And I realize that she of all people understands. She was so young when she became a mom. She was still in college and her ex wasn’t much help. She had a lot to figure out. But she did. It wasn’t easy—in fact, I’m sure it was harder than anything I’ve ever done. Yet, somehow, she made it work out. And she has two great kids.

  “I’m being selfish.”

  “You’re allowed to be. Really, there’s nothing selfish with wanting to give your future children the best life you can by being as ready as you can.”

  “I’m not entirely opposed to the idea either. There would be pluses to having a baby.” I’d like to still have enough energy to chase around my kids when I have them, and as Brook pointed out, we aren’t getting any younger. And, seriously, Brook is going to be the best dad. Don’t even get me started on how cute our kids would be. Based on the samples we’ve seen in Brook’s nieces and my nephew, any baby we have will come with good genes. There are definite pluses, but . . . “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You will.” She pulls up to the curb outside of my airline’s designated door.

  “Thanks for the ride, and the advice.”

  “No problem.” Before I leave, she places a hand on my shoulder to give me pause. “I know I haven’t been great about helping you with this book proposal, and I know you wish I’d be on the call to do the pitch. But I’ll tell you what, if you make the pitch, and they offer us a book deal, I’ll do my share when it comes to creating patterns and projects.”