The Keeper

by Jillian Liota

  “Rough night, coach?” The words are from my lips before I can stop them.

  Mack’s head snaps up from his desk where he is taking notes, his eyes locking on me then straying behind me to the empty doorway, presumably to confirm that I’m alone.

  “You could say that,” he replies warily. Then his face changes just slightly, revealing just the hint of bitterness. “How was your date?” he spits out.

  “My evening was absolutely fantastic,” I respond with a fake smile. “It was pretty enlightening, actually.”

  Mack’s eyes dart away at my words, then lock back in on me.

  “I feel like you’re trying to be a smart-ass but I don’t know why.” So matter-of-fact. “You’re the one who set up a date with someone else, RJ.”

  Still standing in the open doorway, I step inside and close the door behind me.

  “I cancelled my date.”

  Mack’s mouth opens just a fraction in surprise. The anger that has been holding my heart in a vice finally loosens as sadness floods my body.

  “I heard the phone call,” I whisper. “With Amy. About you possibly losing your job.”

  Mack is silent as he watches me, shock still evident on his face.

  I shake my head slightly.

  “Accepting the date with Thomas was a knee-jerk reaction and a mistake. I was going to talk to you about it, about the fact I overheard, at practice that day when Thomas mentioned our plans. When I saw how hurt you were, it just seemed like an easier way to manage it. It would be easier to let you be mad at me than to risk losing your job. But when Thomas showed up at my house on Friday I couldn’t do it. I knew it wasn’t right. Knew that I was betraying something special.”

  I stand and walk to the small window, looking out at the sky without really seeing anything other than a blur.

  “And then Charlie told me she thought it was Jeremy who threatened your job. Something about overhearing a phone call between the two of you. I don’t even know the whole story, just that it was his fault. So I went out to find him last night.”

  I turn around and face Mack where he still sits at his desk.

  “At Smoggy Tavern.”

  Mack’s face goes slack and he looks down at his desk, his eyes moving rapidly across the papers scattered in front of him.

  “And I confronted Jeremy. And then Jeremy dragged me inside and there you were, with Ronnie. On the dance floor.”

  A tear slips down my cheek and I quickly bat it away.

  “And the thing is, I shouldn’t be this upset because you aren’t mine. So maybe us falling apart solves the problem, Mack.”

  I shrug, trying to play everything off.

  “Maybe us ‘figuring things out’ just meant figuring out that we aren’t a fit. It’s not just bad timing. What you want in a girl… I can’t be that and I don’t want to be.”

  Mack’s brow furrows.

  “What I want in a girl? RJ, I…”

  “I don’t need you to clarify anything for me, okay?” I’m quick to respond, cutting him off mid-sentence. “We’ve been here before, remember? After the first time I saw you two together. I feel like we keep coming back to this place where we misunderstand or miscommunicate and then we both assume the worst. And I never thought I would be this jealous person. But knowing that the two of you have an obviously very… very, sexual history and that it was so easy for you to pick it up again… I just don’t see how that leaves us in a space where we can move forward when that kind of life is the norm for you.”

  “But it’s not the norm for me, RJ.”

  I shake my head.

  “Don’t lie to me, Mack. Not now. We have been brutally honest with each other. It has been the one beautiful constant in this non-relationship, so don’t start lying now.”

  Mack is silent for a moment, his hands playing with his black wristband. The look on his face is different than what I’ve seen before. He looks stopped up, like he wants to say something but can’t verbalize the words or can’t force himself to say them.

  When he stands abruptly and walks over to me, I’m startled. Before I even know what is happening, his hands are on my face, pulling me into a kiss. It’s delicate and sweet, and it would be so easy to just fall into everything that is him and get swept up in it. But I pull away before it can go any further.

  “RJ,” Mack whispers, keeping his hands on my face, his eyes latched onto mine. “That was the norm for me. A long time ago. But it isn’t who I am now and it isn’t who I want to be.”

  I shake my head again, dislodging his hands and taking a step back.

  “How many girls have you slept with since you’ve been in LA, Mack?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just tell me.”

  He pauses for a beat, and my stomach plummets when for a brief moment, I worry that he doesn’t actually know. Maybe the number is too high. Maybe he doesn’t remember because it is all a blur mixed in with alcohol and parties. A life I can’t get wrapped up in.

  “None.”

  My head jerks slightly in surprise.

  “What?”

  “None. Is that surprising to you?”

  I just stand there, confused.

  “But Jeremy said…”

  “So, the real root of the problem,” Mack says on a frustrated exhalation. “Jeremy.”

  He takes his hands and twists them into his hair, then down across his face in frustration and disappointment.

  “Apparently I’ve been getting rave reviews.”

  His tone is slightly bitter, his eyes glassing into a frosty glare.

  “What did my dear friend tell you about me?”

  I swallow hard, unsure how to answer the question. Do I tell him what I’ve read online? What I’ve heard from the girls? What Jeremy has told me?

  “Come on, RJ,” he says, as he walks backwards and leans against his desk, crossing his arms. “You owe me a chance to hear what’s been said.”

  I swallow hard, again, my throat dry.

  “He said you slept around a lot after the accident,” I finally get out. “And one time you had a threesome with strippers at the strip club in a public space.”

  I see the wince on his face, his embarrassment clear.

  “And that you were institutionalized for a mental disorder or something, which is why you left the team in Chicago.”

  His head falls forward and he grabs the bridge of his nose.

  “Anything else?” His words are small, his face morphed into a mixture of discomfort and frustration.

  “He said you’ve only been in LA a few weeks and have already slept with a bunch of women.”

  Mack releases his nose and grips his hands against the desk he is leaning on, his eyes looking back up to mine.

  “And your honest reactions to those things?”

  I let out an uncomfortable laugh, shifting on my feet. When I realize I have bitten my thumbnail down too far, I quickly pull it from my mouth and grip both hands behind me.

  “Honestly?” He nods. “Your past doesn’t bother me, Mack. It’s your present and future that matter, and I just don’t see how I could ever fit into it.”

  He looks surprised at my response, what with how he tilts his head to the side and begins to assess me as if I am a puzzle he can’t solve.

  But before he can say anything to me, there’s a knock on his door. I turn quickly and open it, feeling slightly flustered at being interrupted at what feels like a critical moment for both of us.

  “What are you doing answering the door?” Gina’s words are dripping with irritation.

  “Gina, we were just finishing a meeting,” Mack’s firm response comes from behind me.

  Slipping a sweet expression onto her face, she peers around me at Mack, who remains seated on the edge of his desk.

  “Sorry, Coach. I’m a little early for our…,” she trails off, her eyes flying to mine. “… meeting.”
/>   I look at Mack and have to do my best to not roll my eyes.

  “I’m assuming we’re done here?” I say, the nervous energy on my skin beginning to build.

  Mack looks at me for a beat, his gaze hard and focused.

  “We’re finished for now, Ms. Jameson. But we’re definitely not done.”

  I don’t even have a moment to digest his double-meaning before Gina pipes in from beside me.

  “Piss off the coach, RJ?” she whispers. “That polished look you used to have just keeps wearing down further and further.”

  This time I don’t try to hide the roll of my eyes.

  “Have a good meeting, Gina,” I say clearly. “I hope you’re not here to talk to Coach about starting a new juice cleanse.” Her face blanches just slightly, her mouth going slack. “I hear those have been rough on you in the past.”

  “Fucking bitch,” Gina mutters as I walk past her and down the hall.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m opening my front door when a text comes through.

  Mack: I meant what I said. We’re not done

  Me: That’s very alpha-male of you and not really my style

  Mack: I deserve a chance to tell you about my life from my perspective

  I play with my phone for a few minutes, unsure of how to respond. Yes, logically he does deserve a chance to tell me about his life.

  I guess.

  I wouldn’t want someone to go about their days assuming things about me without letting me separate fact from fiction. But what can he say that will change things?

  We aren’t a good fit. We’re too different. We’ve lived very different lives with very different codes of conduct. What hope do we actually have of ‘figuring things out’ at this point?

  Apparently, a part of me thinks there is the tiniest sliver of hope, because my response is direct and short, but eager.

  Me: I’m free tonight

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mack and I are currently staring at each other, not saying anything.

  I arrived at his house about twenty minutes ago and he has offered me something to drink three times, checked on the chicken baking in the oven twice, and has found at least a few reasons to get up and leave the room.

  But now, here we sit. Just staring at each other in the small living room of the small back house he’s renting from his sister.

  I was surprised when I walked in, expecting it to look like the quintessential bachelor pad. White walls and dark furniture pointed at a black entertainment system with nothing personal on the walls or side tables - if there even were side tables. But I was pleasantly shocked at the warmth I felt in what was clearly a small home decorated by Amy.

  The open kitchen and living room are decorated in soft colors with elegant finishes. Stainless steel appliances in the small kitchen, gorgeous granite countertops, flowers on the small wooden kitchen table. Throw pillows are on the couch, an area rug on the floor, photos of Mack and Anna at a park are on the walls, rustic wooden furniture mutes an expensive-looking TV and sound system. An open hallway in the corner leads to what I am assuming are Mack’s bedroom and bathroom.

  It doesn’t feel like Mack just stays here. It feels like Mack lives here. And I like it.

  But the warmth I felt at the design and style was quickly squashed by how awkward and uncomfortable our interactions have been since I’ve gotten here. We’ve exchanged only a few words, and they’ve been so stilted and forced, so unlike any of our previous interactions. I feel like I have to say something before it gets even more awkward and uncomfortable.

  “I like seeing you here,” he says softly, startling me just a little bit after so much silence and staring.

  “What?”

  “You. In my space. I like you being here.” I must look confused, because he presses on. “After our date, I thought about inviting you over here, for dinner. I was going to ask you to come over and have dinner with me, and see if I could get you to spend the night.”

  My breath catches just a little bit in surprise, but he either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care.

  “I’d already asked you to go to the Atwater game, but it was Monday morning when I sent that text, and the game wasn’t until Friday night. That was too long. I’ve always been the guy who plays it cool or doesn’t care enough to think that far ahead when it comes to the women I’ve… spent time with. But it was Monday and Friday was five days away and I wanted to invite you over so I could see you sooner. So I could kiss you again. So I could have you near me and wrap my arms around you, because having you against me felt so damn good.”

  My face and neck flush at his words, my body unable to resist reacting to some of the images that pop into my mind.

  “But then you were in my office and you were my athlete and it quickly became clear that inviting you for dinner that night wasn’t going to happen.”

  I just nod. I don’t think he’s said anything that warrants a response, just yet, so I settle further into the incredibly comfortable couch and curl my legs underneath me.

  “But I was leveled, RJ. Literally crushed by the thought that it was over before it was ever given the chance to really begin. It made me feel out of control, and I can’t… I don’t know how to cope with being out of control of my life anymore. I’ve been there. I’ve felt that feeling of not knowing what’s next and not knowing what decisions to make, or what’s right and what’s wrong. And I hate that feeling more than anything.”

  Well, it seems like we have one huge thing in common.

  He stands up from the love seat he’s been perched on and walks over to the couch where I’m sitting. He takes the seat next to me, close enough that I can feel the warmth from his body radiating towards me

  I want to curl up into it and absorb everything he is.

  When his hand reaches out for mine, I let him take it, threading our fingers together. I say ‘let’, as if I don’t want him to hold my hand, but that would be a bold-faced lie. I love feeling that physical connection to him, even if it’s just palm to palm.

  “The reason I hate that feeling is because the last time I felt that way, I…”, and then he stops.

  When I look up from our entwined hands at his face, I see that he is struggling to speak. I’m not sure whether he doesn’t know what to say, how to say it, or is afraid of the story he wants to tell, but I squeeze his hand once in reassurance.

  I’m here, I tell him without words.

  I’m not going anywhere.

  He lets out a breath and untangles his fingers from mine. Before I can protest, he takes my hand and places it in his, then begins to stroke the back of it with his other hand. Soothing circles, something he did once on my wrist, although there was an innate sensuality in it last time. This time, though, it seems like he’s trying to soothe himself with the slow movements.

  “When I dropped out of college to join the Fire, I thought I had it made. I was barely twenty years old and I’d signed a decent contract. I suddenly had money when we didn’t really have it growing up. The Fire had a reputation for being kind of a party team and I just went with it. I’d like to say that wasn’t who I was, but that’s a lie. I liked everything that came along with being a part of that group. I felt invincible.”

  His body turns towards me, but his eyes remain locked on his hands encasing mine. The crease in his brow is prominent, and I want to take my hand and touch it, knead it away with his worries and fears. Because I know he is about to talk to me about the accident, and Cherise, and everything that came after.

  He’s afraid to tell me.

  And I don’t want him to be.

  “On the night of the accident… I’d found out earlier that day that Amy had been getting abused by her boyfriend. He would just… he beat the shit out of her, and he was a friend of mine. He was my friend. And I didn’t know anything was happening!”

  His voice raises pitch just slightly, his eyes finally finding mine.

  “How did I not
know?” he asks. But before I can respond he dives in again.

  “And when they were having a rough time, my friend told me all these horrible things about her and I believed him. I blamed Amy for it, and told her to figure out her shit, and she stuck it out longer, trying to change herself to be better when he was the one who was fucked up. My mom called and told me they’d broken up and I started spouting off until she told me what had really been going on. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. How could I have treated her so poorly and not realized what was happening?”

  He stands quickly, his words flying out. It’s like a dam has been opened and he has to purge everything.

  “I got completely obliterated and then got in that car. I don’t even remember the accident, that’s how gone I was. I remember getting in the car and then waking up in the hospital. I couldn’t move. I was so fucking scared and when my mom told me about Cherise, I was just sick. It was like my body was set to this continuous state of nausea. The accident fucked up her spine and she’d never walk again. I got to walk away and she would never. Walk. Again.”

  He just shakes his head, his hands resting on his hips. Still so angry at himself, even though I know Cherise isn’t. The love that woman has for Mack is unconditional. But he doesn’t feel that way about himself. At least not right now, as he relives his past.

  “It took months of physical therapy to get my leg back to rights. The Fire had the best trainers in there helping me get better.”

  “Wait.” I interrupt. “They had trainers helping you? I thought you were released after the accident.”

  He finally stops his pacing at my interruption and takes a seat next to me again, but he doesn’t take back my hand.

  “When I was finally better, I started up with the guys again. Darren had been charged with reckless endangerment and got off with a million community service hours and a revoked license, and everyone just kind of played it off, like it didn’t matter. And that started to eat at me. I knew it mattered. I knew Cherise’s life had been changed forever and it was our fault. So… I tried to forget. I tried to lose myself in the things that made it feel better.”