Brianna let out a lingering sigh. “Well, if it’s true he’s a different man, and I’m not so sure it is, then he should have warned us about this football thing. Should have told us why he’d come to town in the first place.”
“Why? Why should he have told us?”
“Well, I don’t know. He just should have. It would’ve been polite.”
“Bree, I don’t expect you to understand this,” Gran-Gran said in a sympathetic voice. “But I’m sure they had him under a gag order. He couldn’t breathe a word. But now that this press conference is behind him, I’d imagine he’ll show up ready to talk. And when he does—”
At that exact moment a rap on the door interrupted her grandmother’s sentence. Brianna looked across the room, startled to see Brandon standing there with a fistful of pink roses. Tea roses, no less. Her grandmother’s favorite.
“For the lady of honor,” Brandon said as he took a step in their direction.
Brianna wasn’t sure whose hand he was going to place the roses in. Just in case, she turned her head and shifted her gaze out the window. I will not, under any circumstances, let that man think I would expect—or even take—those flowers from him.
She turned back in time to see him pass the roses to Gran- Gran, who took them with a squeal.
“You’re the best, Brandon.” She gestured for him to sit— which he did upon her command—then gave him a motherly look. “But as tickled as I am, I still think you need a good spanking.”
Brandon’s gaze shifted to the floor. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t say anything. They wouldn’t let me.”
“See, Bree. I told you!” Gran-Gran crossed her arms in front of her, as if that settled the whole thing.
Brianna shrugged, as though it didn’t matter. But what she really wanted to do was give Mr. Campbell a piece of her mind.
She glanced at her watch then bounded from her chair. “I, um, I really need to leave.”
“Leave?” Gran-Gran and Brandon spoke in unison.
“Um, yeah. I’m really tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night. And I’m kind of hungry, too.”
“Well, let me take you to get some food.” Brandon rose.
“I really think I just need some rest,” she explained. “So if you don’t mind. . .” She made her way to the edge of the bed and gave Gran-Gran a kiss on the cheek. “By the way,” she said, “I called Pastor Meyers early this morning before the service started. Apologized for not being there and told him why. He and his wife are coming by to see you later this evening.”
“Well, bless you for that. And bless them, too.”
Brianna nodded and turned to leave. As she did, she noticed the pleading look in Brandon’s eyes.
Well, let him plead. She didn’t feel like talking right now. Maybe another day.
THIRTEEN
Brandon looked at Abbey, stunned. “What’s up with that? She’s not speaking to me?”
“I guess not.”
“Because I didn’t tell her who I was?” he asked. “Is that it, or is there more to it?”
A look of pain crossed Abbey’s face as she shifted her position in the bed. “There’s more to it than that. I know this might not make much sense, but Bree is a little sensitive about football.”
“Football players, or the game in general?”
“The game in general. It all goes back to something that happened with her father when she was in high school, but I’m not the one to tell that tale,” Abbey said. “Besides, I think it will do Bree good to get it off her chest.” A little pause followed. “I have a feeling you might be just the one to win her over.”
“To the sport?” he asked.
With a twinkle in her eyes Abbey answered, “Among other things.”
“Humph. That would require her actually staying in the same room with me for more than five seconds.”
“She will,” Abbey said with a nod. “I know that girl better than I know myself.” Her eyes lit up. “So why don’t you go after her?”
Brandon shook his head, confused. “I don’t even know where she’s going.”
“Oh, I do. Every time she gets frustrated, she goes to the same place. I’ll be happy to give you directions.” She pointed to the tablet and pen on her bedside table, and Brandon scribbled down the details.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Sure as I’m living and breathing.” Abbey clamped her hand over her mouth as soon as the words escaped. “Maybe I should’ve phrased that another way.” She gave him a wink to let him know she was teasing.
Brandon said good-bye and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, Abbey called to him. “Hey, Brandon?”
“Yes?” He faced her.
More wrinkles than usual etched her brow as she whispered, “Ask her about Daniel.”
Brandon paused then shrugged. “Okay.”
Just as he attempted to walk through the door, two elderly women met him head-on. They took one look at him, and exaggerated squealing began.
“Hush, ladies,” Abbey insisted. “Or the nurse will toss you out on your ears!”
After a minute or so of whispered glee, one of them appeared to hyperventilate. Her red-orange curls bounced up and down as she tried to catch her breath. For a second Brandon wasn’t sure if she was really struggling to breathe or simply acting.
Yep. Acting.
The woman extended her hand with a sly grin and introduced herself. “I’m Lora Patterson,” she said, “and you’re— you’re—Brandon Campbell.”
“Yes. Good to meet you.”
He extended his hand, and she took it but refused to let go. When he finally managed to break free, she clutched her hand to her chest with a dreamy-eyed look on her face. “I’m never washing this hand as long as I live!”
From the bed Abbey let out a grunt. “Then don’t count on coming back to my house for dinner.”
“Oh, hush, Abbey.” Lora’s cheeks flushed as she made her way to the side of the bed. “Let me have some fun.”
“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do after all I’ve been through,” Abbey said with a pout.
Brandon wanted to slip out before they engaged him in conversation, but the woman left standing in the doorway was, well, a bit on the wide side. And she didn’t appear to be moving anytime soon. Instead she stared at him in bug-eyed silence with her mouth hanging open.
“Move out of the way, Rena,” Abbey scolded. “Brandon was just leaving.”
“D–do you have to?” The woman looked as if she might cry. “I’m sorry, but I was just—”
“He’s going after Bree,” Abbey explained. “So scoot, Rena. Let the man pass.”
“B–but I wanted to ask for his autograph,” Rena stammered. She reached into her purse and came up with a grocery store receipt and an ink pen. “Sorry, but it’s the best I can do,” she said as she shoved them both in Brandon’s direction.
He gave her a warm smile and quickly scribbled his name.
“How ironic is that!” she said, as she pointed to the paper. “You signed your name right on top of the word honey.”
Abbey rolled her eyes. “Rena, stop flirting.”
“I’m not flirting.” The woman batted her eyelashes and gave a girlish giggle.
“Excuse her, Brandon,” Lora said. “She doesn’t get out much.”
“Yeah,” Rena acknowledged with a wistful smile. “My back goes out more than I do.”
All three women erupted in laughter. Brandon joined in—for a minute. But he couldn’t stay there forever. He needed to catch up with Brianna. He nodded in the direction of the women—“Happy to meet you both”—then shot out of the door while the shooting was good.
Minutes later he found himself on the highway, headed toward his destination. What he would say when he got there was a mystery. Still, if he didn’t follow her, if he didn’t let her know he cared about what she was thinking, feeling. . .
Hmm. He cared about what she was thinking and feeling. The revelat
ion hit him hard. How long had it been since he’d cared—really cared—about what someone else thought about him? Years probably. Something about sobering up brought back his ability to care. To genuinely care.
And this was a girl worth caring about.
He pulled into the parking lot of the tiny strip mall, just a few blocks from home. Where was it? Ah, yes. On the end. Steel City Scoop-a-Rama—Pittsburgh’s premiere ice cream eatery, according to Abbey. And Bree’s favorite spot for drowning her sorrows.
Brandon entered the store and walked up behind her. He listened with a smile as she ordered a deluxe double scoop of white chocolate mocha with an extra serving of candy bar “mixin’s” stirred in. The fellow behind the counter placed the scoops of ice cream on a marble slab and began to mash the bits of crunchy chocolate candy into it. Then he pressed the whole conglomeration into a large waffle cone, also coated in chocolate.
“Sprinkles on top?” he asked.
Brianna leaned her elbows on the countertop and stared at the cone. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Lots of ’em.”
Wow. When this girl drowned her sorrows, she drowned her sorrows. Likely she’d be up all night on a sugar high, if he didn’t step in and do something about it.
The clerk handed her the cone and rang up her total. Six dollars and forty-nine cents? That was a high price to pay for an emotional breakdown, even a well-deserved one. Brandon remained behind her, still and silent, as Brianna fumbled around in her purse with her free hand for the money.
Her moves grew more frantic. “I—I can’t find my wallet.”
“Excuse me?” The young clerk gave her a suspicious glare, and she started looking again, nearly tipping the cone over in the process.
“Maybe I left it in the car. Or maybe. . .” She looked at the fellow again, her voice quivering. “I know what I did. I left my wallet at the hospital. I’d taken it out to get some change to buy a soda, and I must’ve forgotten to put it back in.” She stared at the cone as ice cream dribbled down the sides. “What should I do?”
The kid let out an exasperated sigh, then reached out to take the cone from her hand.
And Brandon, quiet until now, pulled out his wallet.
❧
Brianna saw the hand reach around from behind her and heard the credit card slap down on the counter. She turned, half horrified and half grateful. When she saw Brandon’s face, her stomach knotted. What was he doing here?
She shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You can and you will,” he said. “Because you’re going to share it with me. If we can get to it before it melts into a puddle.” He reached to take it from her hand, then licked it around the edges.
How gross is that? Brianna let out a groan, more for effect than anything else. “Now you’re going to have to eat the whole thing.”
“No, I’m not.”
Unbelievable.
Then again, he was paying for her ice cream. Once again he’d swept in and saved the day. How many times was he going to do that?
The kid behind the counter swiped Brandon’s card and waited on the machine to respond.
“How did you know I was here?” Brianna asked. Then, knowing the answer in her heart, added a quick, “Never mind. Skip that.”
“It was right of her to tell me,” Brandon answered, taking a nibble from the edge of the cone. “I know you’re upset at me, and I want to get to the bottom of it.”
She crossed her arms. “I never said I was upset.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The clerk started to hand Brandon his credit card. But then he glanced down at the name on the card and back up again into Brandon’s face.
“Hey, you’re Brandon Campbell.”
“Uh. . .yeah.” Brandon took the card and shoved it into his wallet then handed the cone to Brianna.
“Our new starting quarterback. From Tampa.”
Brianna groaned. Would it always be like this when Brandon was around?
“I saw the press conference. My name is Kevin Nelson. I play for North Hills High School.”
“That’s great,” Brandon said with a smile.
He gestured to a table across the room, and Brianna, grateful to be away from the kid behind the counter, headed over to it. She sat down and began to lick the edges of the cone to keep the drips from landing in her lap.
In spite of an incoming crowd of teenagers, the kid who’d waited on them seemed intent on staring. Even from across the room she saw him pull out his cell phone. Was he making a call? Brianna tried to ignore him, but he seemed to have the crazy thing pointed straight at them.
She jabbed Brandon in the arm. “What is he doing?”
Brandon turned around, and the clerk pressed a button on his cell phone. A camera.
She slapped herself in the head. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Things will simmer down soon. Once the dust settles from the media hype, I’ll just be an average Joe.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Can you tell me why you’re suddenly so upset at me? Is it because I didn’t tell you who I was?”
A wave of guilt washed over Brianna as she saw the confused look in his eyes. What had he done to her? And yet she must say something; otherwise, he might go on staring her down for the rest of the night.
“I just have an aversion to football—that’s all. Long story.”
“Is it the thing about your dad being a coach? The stuff you told me earlier?”
“That and a lot more.” She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
She wanted to open up, wanted to tell him the whole story. How much she’d loved Daniel. How he’d been the star player on her father’s team their senior year in high school. How he’d already received a scholarship to play for UCLA the next year. How her father had destroyed all of that with one thoughtless decision.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” she said finally.
“I understand.” Brandon paused then surprised her with his next words. “One reason I wanted to see you was to tell you something. All those news stories about what I was like back in Tampa. . .”
She drew in a deep breath before answering. “Those television reporters didn’t paint a very rosy picture of you.”
“That was the old me.” He gave her an imploring look. “You have to trust me. The old Brandon Campbell is dead and gone. Those things I used to do—they felt good for a season. But that season is over. God has given me a fresh start.”
“I understand fresh starts. I do.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Who is Daniel?”
Brianna nearly choked on her ice cream. “Daniel? How did you know about him?” He opened his mouth to answer, but she stopped him. “Let me guess.” Gran-Gran, this is too much. You shouldn’t have opened that door.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Forget it.” Just then the kid who’d waited on them drew near to their table, cell phone open wide. What was he up to?
“I have to go.” Brianna stood, anxious to escape.
“But why? Because of what I said?” Brandon reached to touch her arm—a gesture of kindness, she knew—but she shook him off.
“I just need to get away for a while by myself to think.”
And with no other explanation than that, she left him sitting at the Steel City Scoop-a-Rama. Alone.
FOURTEEN
As Brandon settled down on the sofa to read the local paper early Monday morning, he was horrified to discover the whole saga of how he had helped Abbey on the day of her accident, plastered on the front page. The headline read, Quarterback Rides into Town on White Horse.
“Oh, no. Please, no.”
Surely Mack Burroughs was to blame for this. But why? After a lengthy discussion by phone late Sunday night, Burroughs had promised
to do the right thing. Brandon assumed that meant not running the story.
Then again, maybe Burroughs thought exposure for one of his key players was the right thing. Who knew? But, as Brandon scanned the article, a sickening feeling came over him.
For the most part, the story had the facts straight. But it made him out to be some kind of superhero. What would Abbey and Brianna do when they read this slanted write-up? Would they come after him with a spatula in hand and run him out of town?
No telling.
Brandon tried to put together a plan of action for what he would say to them tomorrow when he made another visit to the hospital, but he couldn’t think clearly. Tonight’s game— and that intensive playbook—had him preoccupied.
Instinctively Brandon flipped to the sports section of the paper for a glance-through before his morning shower. He almost fell off the couch when he came across several photos of him and Brianna, obviously taken by the kid at the Scoop-a-Rama. One showed Brandon holding a dripping ice cream cone, licking the edges as Brianna looked on in interest. The caption underneath read, Quarterback Makes Good on Claim to Melt Ice.
Brandon groaned as he noticed another photo—a shot of Brianna with her finger pointed toward him and an angry look on her face. The caption underneath proclaimed, Local Woman Resists Campbell’s Charms. The article went on to tell the whole story of his problems in Tampa. It was all in there—his issues with women and drinking and his claims of recovery. Everything.
Brandon laid the paper on the coffee table and leaned his head into his hands. He wanted to pray—wanted to see this remedied—and quickly—but hardly knew where to begin. He was no longer worried about simply offending Brianna. Now he worried that she and Abbey might never speak to him again. How had he managed to drag them into this? And what could he do to undrag them?
Red, White and Blue Weddings: Red Like Crimson, White as Snow, Out of the Blue Page 23
