The Keeper

by Jillian Liota

  “Well, I do my best.” He shrugs slightly, his grin still light and easy. “I wanted you to meet someone,” he says, his eyes lifting to mine. “This is Rachel Jameson. Rachel, this is my friend Cherise.”

  She beams at me. “Hi Rachel sweetheart. So nice to meet you.” She leans forward over the table and holds out her hand. I step forward to take it.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” I smile back at her because, well, because I can’t not. She has those lines next to her eyes that always make me happy.

  When I was really young, before she left us, I used to sit and watch my mom put on her makeup. She used to pull at her face and make comments about her wrinkles. “Be careful how much you smile,” she would say. “There’s no ridding your face of these lines once they’re there.”

  That always struck me as strange, and as I grew up, even with my shitty life, I’ve always believed that the little crows feet people get next to their eyes from smiling so much are a good thing. It means they’ve lived a life where they laugh a lot, they smile a lot. Hopefully they’ve loved a lot. And I’ll take that over a smooth face in my forties and fifties any day.

  Cherise has those lines next to her eyes. So I continue to beam back at her. Her smile is infectious, and she looks like one of the happiest people in the world.

  “How did you two meet?” Cherise asks, looking up at Mack and snapping me back to present.

  “We met at my buddy’s for the game last week,” he responds.

  “Introducing you to a beautiful girl? Sounds like a great friend,” she says, her voice bright and happy.

  I cringe internally, thankful that neither Cherise nor Mack are aware of the things Jeremy said to me at my apartment a few days ago.

  “Well, we didn’t want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to swing by with Rachel. But we’ll make sure to say hi to Dean before we take off after the game.” Mack looks around as if he’s lost something. “Where are Theo and Max?”

  Cherise laughs.

  “Probably running rampant around the parking lot like the fools they are.” She looks to me. “Twins are a lot to handle. Sometimes it’s easier to just let them fly around until they tire themselves out.”

  I laugh as well.

  “How old are your kids?”

  “Well, Dean is 16. He’s the one playing in the game. And Theo and Max are 14 going on 3.” I laugh again. “What are you gonna do?” She shrugs lightly then looks back up to Mack. “Good to see you, sweetie.” She lifts her arms and he bends down for another hug. When she turns back to me, she says, “It was great meeting you Rachel.”

  “You too,” I say, lifting my hand to shake hers again.

  But she waves her hand wildly in front of herself, as if to say, put your hand away.

  “If you’re friends with Mack, I’m sure we’ll be friends as well soon enough. Come ‘round here and give me a proper hug.”

  I step around the table and my eyes fly immediately to Cherise’s wheelchair, which I hadn’t seen behind the table. I quickly catch myself, raising my eyes back to hers, sure to keep the genuine smile on my face. I lean down and give her a hug.

  “He’s a keeper,” she whispers. “And if he likes you, I bet you are too.” When I step back, her face has a small smile, as if she knows a secret. “I’ll see you again soon, Rachel.”

  I nod my head, then follow Mack away from the table and back up to the bleachers.

  * * * * *

  “Hey Mack!”

  A teenager in full uniform comes barreling towards us after the game. I can only assume it’s Dean, and my heart sings when the two embrace in a full hug, Mack leaning over the short fence. If I remember correctly, guys in high school aren’t big on hugs. But when Dean steps out of the hug and looks up at Mack, I can clearly see the admiration in his eyes.

  “Awesome job, man,” Mack responds, clapping Dean on the shoulder pads. “Proud of you.”

  “Thanks! Hey, I’m heading to grab burgers with some friends. We still on for tomorrow?”

  Mack nods.

  “Absolutely. I’ll pick you up at four.”

  “Sweet. Later!” Dean jogs back along the field in the direction the rest of his teammates.

  “Ready to go?” Mack asks, and begins to lead me out to the parking lot. “Where are you parked?”

  “In the boonies,” I say, with a hint of a laugh. “I think I may have been the last one here.”

  We continue to walk towards Trusty Rusty, the silence at once both comfortable and alight with underlying tension.

  After meeting Cherise, we’d walked back to the bleachers and spent most of the game just watching, not really talking apart from commenting on the game. It seemed like Mack wasn’t ready to talk about it, even though I was fairly certain that Cherise was the woman from his car accident. I’d been bursting with questions, but decided to let Mack lead the conversation at his own pace. That pace just happened to be standing completely still, because he hadn’t said a word about it for the entire second half of the game.

  When we get to my car, Mack whistles.

  “Wow. Didn’t realize you were driving a legend.”

  I laugh.

  “Yeah, well, she was what I could afford when I got to college.” I run my hand along the top. “But she’s my baby. Jeremy and I fixed her up and she runs great.” I look back up at him with a smile. “Nothing like that swank truck of yours, though.”

  “Nah, my truck’s nothing special. Just a ride when I need one.”

  I nod. When he doesn’t continue, I take that as my cue and pull my keys from my pocket.

  “Alright, well, I’m gonna head off..”

  “You didn’t ask me about Cherise.” His expression shows he’s not angry or upset, just confused.

  I shrug and twiddle the keys in my hand.

  “It’s your story to tell. I didn’t want to pry.” He doesn’t say anything, just continues to assess me. “I figure she’s important to you, since you talked me into watching two hours of high school football so I could meet her for five minutes.”

  I want to ask more questions. How long have they known each other? Did he move to California to be closer to her family? How are they on speaking terms when he played a part in her current wheelchair-bound state? But as the stream in my head continues, I keep my verbal filter firmly in place.

  Mack exhales loudly, resting his hands on his hips. He looks around, then turns to lean back on my car, looking out at the emptying parking lot.

  “I went through some stuff after the accident. Some personal stuff. As soon as I got my head on straight, I tracked her down. I met her boys, her mom. We just clicked. I had spent hours on the plane rehearsing what I was gonna say to her, but she barely let me get out one word when we met. She just gave me a big hug and asked if I wanted some coffee. Brought me into her kitchen and sat me down,” he laughs. “Pretty much pulled my entire life story from me.”

  He clears his throat and looks down at me.

  “She didn’t judge me for one minute. She’s always got a positive attitude, and I wanted to be a part of her life. Do whatever I can for her and her family since I took such a huge part of her away from them.”

  I nod.

  “You have a lot of character. So does she. It doesn’t surprise me that you’d find each other and develop a relationship.” I smile, thinking of Cherise’s bright, positive attitude. “She seems like someone who doesn’t let anything get in her way.”

  He chuckles slightly at that.

  “No. She definitely doesn’t. I always feel like I don’t do enough, but she always reminds me that I can’t be a crutch for her. That she still has to live a life where she’s capable of doing everything on her own.”

  “Self-reliance is an admirable trait.” In the moment, I’m talking about Cherise. But my response is heavily rooted in the importance I place on being able to take care of myself.

  “Being able to accept help and care from oth
ers is also an admirable trait,” he responds.

  I turn my head to look at him next to me, leaning back against my car with his arms crossed, his eyes focused in the distance. His jaw is tight, a frown on his face.

  “It frustrates you that she won’t let you do more.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue, unsure of where the boundary is. How much I can say. But if what Mack and I feel for each other has any chance of lasting, our streak of honesty will need to continue.

  “You have to remember that she wants to feel capable. Stepping in and doing things for her might feel good for you, help assuage whatever guilt you still feel, but it probably makes her feel helpless. Like she’s a charity case.”

  “That’s not how I feel about her,” he clips.

  “I know that,” I say, my voice soothing. “I never said you did. It’s just important to make sure you understand that she might feel that way.” I step away from the car and stand directly in front of him. “You’re a good person, Mack. Regardless of the things that have happened. You have a great heart, you’ve done everything you can to make amends for the damage you believe you’ve inflicted. You obviously care about learning from the past rather than repeating it.”

  His eyes search my face, his words escaping his mouth as if he’s unsure whether they should be spoken.

  “What if the things I’ve learned make me feel like I have to go after things that are important, even when it might be wrong?”

  I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t.

  He reaches out and puts a hand on my hip, his eyes watching his own movements as his thumb slips under my shirt to rub small circles on my hip. I let out a shuddered breath as he steps into me, his other arm wrapping around me to bring me into an embrace that I can’t help but return, my hands resting on his muscular back. His warmth seeps through my thin shirt, his breath tickles my temple. His words are a whisper.

  “This is something important. I can feel it. I’ve never, ever, felt like this before.” He brings his hand up and tilts my chin so I’m looking at his handsome face. “Tell me we can figure this out, RJ. Tell me that meeting you a few months too early doesn’t mean either of us are going to miss out on something amazing.”

  I take a deep breath. And hold it. Rational Rachel wants to say it can’t work. She wants to stay rooted firmly in logic and what she can control. There are just too many things in the way. His job, my scholarship, both of our futures.

  But it isn’t Rational Rachel who lets out the deep breath. “We can figure this out.”

  The words are barely from my mouth when his lips are on mine, his hand slipping back to twist into the hairs at the nape of my neck. I grip his shirt, giving it a slight tug, before sliding my arms fully around his waist and holding myself as close to him as I can.

  I expect the kiss to be hard and punishing, a reflection of the frustrations we’ve both felt over the past week. But his arms hold me reverently, as if I’m a treasure. His hand in my hair twists around playfully, massaging at the base of my neck. And his lips are soft, sweet.

  Our kiss feels like a drunken haze, as if we have all the time in the world. And while I’m not sure exactly how we are going to ‘figure this out,’ knowing we have time to try makes all the difference.

  Chapter Ten

  Drop, kick, kick, kick, knee, knee, knee, knee.

  The ball bounces around, my eyes trained on it as it pops back and forth between my knees and feet. This is one exercise I’ve never been very good at, keeping the ball in motion without letting it touch the ground. But today I’m doing pretty well.

  Kick, kick, knee, kick, kick, knee, knee.

  My eyes feel like lasers on the blue and yellow orb in front of me. My mind is clear. My focus is sharp. The whistle finally blows and I let the ball fall to the grass at my feet, my eyes shooting up to the person responsible for my current state of mind.

  Mack.

  I’ve felt his eyes on me all morning. Watching me run, critiquing my time at the net, encouraging my saves. I’d assumed that our conversation and kiss last night would make today weird. I was sure that I would be wrapped up in watching him, or focused on not watching him for fear of someone else seeing the affection in my eyes.

  In an unforeseen turn of events, this morning has been an education of sorts. I’ve been focused, sharp, tapped into my team like I’ve never been before. I’m unsure whether this is because Mack is watching and I don’t want to look a fool, or whether our decision to try and figure things out has just calmed me to the point that I feel like I can be completely present at practice.

  While I could focus on the fact that we don’t really know what we are doing, I’ve instead chosen to accept the fact that I get to enjoy this with him now.

  When practice concludes, I grab my bag and begin walking towards the locker room. A quick shower, and then I’m off to StubHub Center, where Jeremy and the LA Galaxy play. I hate that name. StubHub. But I guess it’s better than some of the other MLS stadiums.

  I’m looking at you, Dick’s Sporting Goods Park.

  Just as I am about to clear the field, I hear my name called out. Turning, I see Mack walking my direction, clipboard in hand, a mesh bag of soccer balls slung over his arm. I give him a small smile and wait as he walks closer. He looks delectable in his black and white track pants and sleeveless Glendale shirt, his muscles flexing with each step. His typical practice outfit is much different than Coach Johnson’s, who is always wearing khakis and a polo. But Mack wears those cutoff shirts like they’re going out of style.

  And damn does he look good in them.

  My smile grows as I remember him from last night, his hands tight on my waist as we… well, okay, we had a crazy romantic make out session and it was amazing.

  Once we’d finally gotten our fill, he kissed my forehead, opened my car door, and told me he’d see me at practice. I promptly went home, snuggled up in bed, and spent over an hour replaying our conversation, the implications of a relationship, and the two of us trying to figure things out.

  A small sigh escapes my lips, almost startling me out of my memory, reminding me that I’m still on the soccer field and there are other players around. My eyes dart around quickly, but I don’t think anyone caught me ogling him.

  “What’s that smile for?” he asks, once he’s an arms length away from me.

  I purse my lips and narrow my eyes, teasingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He chuckles. “I just wanted to ask…” he pauses, looks around, clears his throat, “… if you wanted to get together this afternoon. Hang out or something.”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t today. Charlie and I are going to Jeremy’s game.” He nods, his eyes flicking again to my teammates who are trickling off the field and heading to the locker room. “Tonight? We can watch a movie?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m taking Dean to do ‘guy stuff’ tonight - whatever that means.” He laughs. “Tomorrow?”

  I also shake my head. “I’m meeting with Thomas so we can begin preparing for a presentation.” I see his jaw tense just slightly, and it sends a strange feeling rippling through my body. “Are you…?” I laugh lightly, shifting my bag up higher on my shoulder. “Does that bother you?”

  “No. Why?”

  I shrug. His demeanor has shifted slightly, his eyes a bit more brooding than before. But just as quickly as I see it, it passes.

  “So you’re busy all day tomorrow?”

  “Not all day, but I’ve got other homework and stuff too, and laundry and grocery shopping. Sunday’s normally my ‘catch-all’ day.”

  “What about Monday?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Practice, class, practice, weekly date with Jeremy.”

  He sighs with an exasperated smile.

  “So we finally get our shit together and then can’t get our shit together.”

  I laugh.

  “Yeah, I know. It doesn’t feel fair
.”

  “Here’s what I think,” he says, stepping just a bit closer. “I think when you’re done with dinner on Monday, give me a call. Even if I just swing by for a little bit… I want to see you. Not around others.”

  My face flushes as his eyes skate over me, and I’m suddenly a bit more conscious of my sweaty, exhausted appearance. Suddenly I remember Charlie’s joke about being sweaty and sexed up and sneaking off to the locker room with Mack for a little hands-on practice. I feel my flush spread down my neck and I break out into nervous laughter.

  Mack’s brow crinkles with confusion.

  “What did I miss?”

  I swallow my laughter and adjust my bag over my shoulder, looking away from Mack for a moment to collect the nerve to tell him. But my shit-eating grin is still plastered to my face.

  “Just something wildly inappropriate that Charlie said to me.”

  He raises his eyebrows in question. I purse my lips.

  “Lets just say it involves this exact scene, but ending with us in the locker room. Alone.”

  His eyes become just slightly hooded at the idea and he bites his lip.

  “Oh really?”

  I nod, still surprised that I shared that little story with him.

  He leans in towards me, his words a whisper.

  “Let Charlie know I love her idea and might have to make sure that particular scenario happens sometime.”

  My eyes widen and I can’t force myself to maintain eye contact. I let out one more uncharacteristic giggle, then bury my face in my hands. Peaking at him through my fingers, I manage to squeak out an, “Alright, I’ve gotta go. Bye.”

  And I take off towards the locker rooms, Mack’s hushed laughter sounding from behind me.

  * * * * *

  “As much as I wish MLS games were better attended, there really isn’t anything better than plenty of arm space and propping your feet up in front of you.”