Fourth and Inches

by Kata Čuić

  “Yes.” I don’t fucking care how much of this Alex overhears anymore.

  “You only won on a technicality,” Alex grumbles, completely, or maybe willfully, oblivious as he continues reading his menu. “We would have kicked your asses if not for those blind refs.”

  “Psst. Alex.”

  He jumps when Evie’s napkin lands on his face.

  She makes a crying gesture at him, and just like that, everything goes back to normal.

  The rest of the meal is a good deal louder and filled with more dirty innuendo than the usual patrons provide.

  But, we get away with it because hey…we’re football players.

  Sometimes, it’s good to be us.

  The plates are cleared and conversation winds down. Evie tries to hide her more frequent yawns behind her hand, but the jig’s up.

  Time has run out on this little foray into our happy past.

  “Lemon drops one last time?” Alex offers, his gaze and question directed solely at Evie.

  It doesn’t hurt maybe as much as it should. I recognize the request for what it is.

  He’s letting her go.

  “As much as I’d love to, I’m exhausted. And, I have to be on a flight to Sacramento at the crack of dawn. Raincheck?”

  She might not realize it, but her question gives Alex reassurance.

  He relaxes into his seat with a soft smile, understanding it’s not the end. Just different.

  As Evie makes her way to the front of the restaurant, he claps me on the shoulder. “I won’t hold a grudge, Rob. The best man won.”

  I take a piece of very special notebook paper out of my inside jacket pocket and hand it over to him. “Not yet, he didn’t. But, the best man better show his ass up and follow these directions to the letter. Or Mike and I will both beat your ass.”

  Alex stuffs the paper inside his own jacket, then meets my gaze with eyes I used to know almost as well as my own. “We good, then?”

  “I don’t know.” I throw his words back at him. “You tell me.”

  “Not yet.” He admits. “But, we will be.”

  With my gorgeous wife on my arm, I walk out of that restaurant into the humid Orlando night, finally feeling like life is going the way it’s supposed to be.

  Tension crackles through the air as we stare at each other from across the living room.

  Rob slips off his shoes in a daze, not even realizing he didn’t take them off at the door like he usually does. He nods his head, but his eyes are as glazed over as they were at the doctor’s office. “It was a success. Everything went better than expected. The CT scans show no remaining tissue.”

  His repetition of words we’ve already heard many times over prompts me to shake the cobwebs from my own mind. “That’s what she said, yeah.”

  It doesn’t feel real.

  To have hope, to have your every wish granted, offered up on a silver platter.

  These past six weeks have been slower and more painful than I imagined.

  Even though I didn’t do this solely for Rob, I can’t help but look to him to gauge his reaction.

  This is it.

  The moment of truth.

  His mostly blue tonight gaze locks on mine. “Is it wrong I want to savor this, first? I don’t want to rush anything. I want to hold onto this hope for as long as possible, in case reality comes crashing down on us tomorrow morning.”

  I shake my head in answer. My voice has apparently fled the building.

  It’s all too much, not enough, overwhelming yet unsatisfactory all at the same time.

  And yet it burns.

  That flickering flame inside my chest refuses to snuff out, to succumb to past lessons of wishing too hard, of hoping too much.

  The boy of my dreams is suddenly standing before me, cupping my face in his big hands.

  Some dreams do come true.

  “Fear,” he whispers. “This is all a dream. I don’t want to wake up and face reality. I want to grab it with both hands. When we were apart, I used to dream you were in our bed every single night. And then I’d wake up on the couch, and have to lose you all over again.”

  I clutch his wrists, willing him to never let go. It takes several swallows to find my voice. “Fear: they’re wrong. They can’t possibly know everything just by some fancy imaging. I don’t want to get my hopes, our hopes too high. I just want this to be enough. Even if it’s not everything, I want it to be enough.”

  He nods. He gets it.

  He understands me.

  “Dinner and a movie first? We can pretend it’s our first date. I feel like I should wine and dine you before rocking your world.”

  It’s just the levity we need. “Excuse me? You said it would take exactly eleven dates until your made your move.”

  Rob furrows his brow, obviously trying to recall what I’m blabbing on about. It’s almost funny the way his face lights up when he remembers. “Shit. You’re right. I totally did say that.”

  “You did.”

  “No more waiting, then.” He sweeps me up into his arms, bearing my weight quickly across the room until we’re a pile of limbs on the softest mattress known to man. “We’ve been waiting for this forever, anyway.”

  I laugh until his mouth prevents me from making any sound other than moans.

  Clothes become a casualty of this intense need to uncover the truth of our circumstances.

  When his kisses veer too far south, I pull him up by his oh-so-soft hair. “Not tonight.”

  “Are you sure? We can take our time. Let me make it good for you…just in case.”

  The honesty of his doubts calms my own fears. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

  He smiles, but it’s not the dimpled grin that makes me wild. This is soft, private, a special expression held only for me.

  He makes love to me slowly, gently. There’s so much intensity in the way he kisses me, the glide of his strong body against mine.

  My hands smooth over his muscles, constantly working under the sheath of his hot skin. So much controlled motion and power, all beneath the tips of my fingers. I can’t mistake his soft kisses, whispers, and his fingertips barely grazing my skin for holding back. He’s pouring himself into me, into this moment we’ve both been waiting for.

  When he pushes in after what feels like an eternity, I release a breath of relief. He’s had me begging for this since the first stroke of his tongue against my breasts.

  “Okay?” His eyes are the perfect marriage of blue and green as they roam over my face, studying me for any sign of discomfort. He’s breathless, his body trembling with restraint until I release him from his prison of patience.

  “More than okay.” I pull him down to me, wanting to prove my words are the absolute truth.

  It’s not enough yet. We’ve made it this far before.

  “I love you,” he whispers into my mouth. “My Evie, my Dream Girl, my wife.”

  In spite of his warm weight on top of me, my chest soars with newfound freedom. Nothing matters but this.

  Us.

  No matter what happens, we’ll be okay.

  My tongue fumbles for words, but nothing spoken could convey what this means to me. What he means to me.

  I love you isn’t enough.

  “I know.” He soothes my conscience, reading my mind like he always does. “Don’t speak; just feel.”

  And oh, how I feel.

  I’ve read the phrase “moving inside me” countless times. I never understood it until now.

  It’s not about the motion of his steady thrusts. He stretches me, fills me, then retreats, leaving me moaning for another invasion of his body into mine. But, every time he’s as deep inside me as he can be, he stills. For a breathless moment, we’re one. His soul invades me. His love spreads through every seemingly unreachable place in my body, joining us irrevocably.

  “Rob.” His name tumbles from my lips—an answered prayer, a plea, a moan of pleasure, a promise.

  He swallows down my simple offering. Ever
y brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue tells me I’m his as surely as if he said the words aloud.

  “Come with me,” he pants, begs, resting his cheek against mine.

  A whimper escapes my throat. I’m at the precipice, ready to fall, but…

  I’m still waiting for the pain to take over.

  Cold rushes over my chest as his body against mine is replaced by air. The new angle combined with the suddenness of his movement propels me further toward his almost desperate command.

  I try to memorize everything about this moment, but the sensations are overwhelming, dulling my wits, allowing me only to gasp for air and succumb to his will.

  Rob sings to me a song only I can hear. The staccato of his harsh breaths keeps beat with the pounding of my heart; the groans of pleasure which rumble from his chest weave a melody that mingles with the combined sweat of our skin.

  In this moment, I realize music isn’t gone from my life. It lives in us. It carries between us. The symphony of our lives conveys emotions we could never share with mere words.

  And the expression on his face—so raw, so pure, so utterly perfect—does me in.

  The tingling sensation that had gradually built explodes within me, rocketing out from my center to electrify everything in its wake.

  My mouth falls open but no sound escapes. There’s only the feeling of being weightless yet tethered simultaneously.

  We’re flying together.

  “Yes, baby,” Rob breathes above me. “That’s it.”

  Tears fill my eyes as I watch him reach his own release. He clasps his hands at my waist with near bruising force, letting go of everything before this moment as he drives home.

  I’m his home. Just like he’s mine.

  Spent, he collapses on top of me, our limbs still entwined.

  For a long while, no words are exchanged between us. Only the sound of our decelerating breathing breaches the silence.

  It’s the harmony of peace.

  I drag my hand up and down his back, inhaling his musky scent and caressing his cheek with my own.

  “Still okay?” He trails damp kisses down my neck, along my jaw, over my lips.

  “Mmm.” I don’t think words are going to happen for me anytime soon.

  A rumble of laughter reverberates against my chest from his. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He pulls out slowly, as he always does, trying not to hurt me.

  There’s still discomfort, but it’s entirely new.

  I don’t want him to leave me so soon.

  He rolls to his side, watching me. With a single finger he traces the contour of my cheek.

  I turn my head on the pillow and catch his fingertip with my lips.

  He smiles.

  This is so easy, so good.

  Several urges are warring within me, and it’s strange, but welcome. I don’t know whether I want to curl up into his side and fall into blissful sleep, or if I want to raid the fridge for a snack, or maybe try for another round.

  This is such foreign territory.

  It’s selfish and stupid because we’ve made love so many times over the years, but still. This feels so much more…complete.

  As evidenced by the extra wetness between my thighs.

  “Rob?”

  “Hmm?” He continues his mapping of my body, seeming as dazed as I feel.

  “Can you…get me a towel or a washrag to clean up with?” He’s usually so prompt about it, but tonight’s mood is decidedly languid and satisfied. For both of us.

  The hint of a smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth, showcasing the dimple I was licking not so long ago. “Sorry, Mrs. Falls. No can do.”

  “Um…why not?”

  He abandons his tracing and gathers me in his arms. “If we potentially have a small window to make this happen, then we’re not going to waste it or hinder it in any way.”

  “What are you talking about? I promise, I’m fine. I didn’t fake it. I’m not in any pain.”

  “Oh, I know you didn’t fake it.” His grin stretches. “That’s what makes it the best-case scenario.”

  Ah, his ego makes a grand reappearance. “It was some of your best work, Superjock. I enjoyed it thoroughly.”

  “As did I.” He captures my mouth in another lazy kiss. “Whether it was my best work or not remains to be seen.”

  “I’m not sure I can be any more satisfied than I am. I could definitely be less sticky, though.”

  “If we’re gonna make a baby, then you’re going to have to deal with it.” He frowns when I tense. “That…wasn’t the plan?”

  Well, now my mind is spinning in a whole new direction. “I hadn’t thought about it yet, honestly.”

  I didn’t really think the doctors were right. I didn’t expect this to work. I’m still waiting for pain to slice my stomach every time I breathe.

  Rob squeezes his eyes shut. “Dammit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  He feels so warm, so solid all around me. I don’t want to let go of this newfound euphoria.

  “Rob,” I whisper, kissing him until he opens his eyes again. “You’re right. Let’s do this. We don’t know how long we might have to try.”

  I want this. God, it might be so wrong, but I want it.

  For just a few hours, I’m going to ignore all the reasons we shouldn’t treat this as a possibility that are piling up in my brain.

  We’re too young.

  Our relationship isn’t stable enough.

  His job should come first for now.

  I don’t know about grad school yet, or what I want to do with my life.

  What if our fathers make problems?

  Jackson.

  No. I shake myself out of it.

  I will not let him be the reason I don’t reach for what I want, whatever that is.

  “Let’s try,” I repeat.

  “Yeah?” His expression is still hesitant.

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy shit. We’re gonna make a baby.”

  A laugh pours from my throat. “Thirty minutes ago, that was your plan all along. Why do you suddenly sound so shocked?”

  He blinks a few times, seeming to think it over. “I guess…it just seems more real now. More a possibility than it ever was before.”

  “We don’t have to,” I soothe any potential sting of my words with kisses along his throat. All my concerns are surely his as well. “We’re only in our mid-twenties. Most people in our position wouldn’t be thinking of starting a family yet, and with your career– “

  He cuts me off, pulling my face to his and sealing his lips over mine. “We haven’t been in the position of most people for years, Evie. And frankly, why would we want to be? Through the good and the bad, it’s always been us. Hell, we’re luckier than most people on the planet.”

  “How’s that?”

  He shrugs, the gesture suddenly seeming so much more boyish than it ever has before. “How many people can say they met their forever when they were only fifteen?”

  “We haven’t been together since we were fifteen.” How different our lives might be if we had.

  “Yes, we have.” His voice and eyes convey the seriousness of his statement. “No matter who else was involved, where we were, or what was going on in our lives, we were always together. If that wasn’t the case, we wouldn’t have come this far.”

  He makes a fair point. No matter what, we always come back to each other. “Touché, Falls. You win this round.”

  Another wide grin splits his face. “Speaking of rounds, I think we should pad the numbers. You know. Just to be thorough.”

  I don’t get a chance to ask what he means.

  Round two of Operation Baby Falls commences on the snap.

  I’ve had enough of hospitals.

  I fucking hate hospitals.

  “I’m looking for my wife…” The words roll off my tongue, far too familiar for my mental health.

  A firm grip on my shoulder almost makes me snap. Almost.


  “This way,” Byers says in an oddly soft-for-him tone. “She’s in a private room. Guards outside the doors.”

  “Why?”

  Even as we begin our trek through overly bright hospital corridors, I want answers. I want them now.

  I want them yesterday.

  “Did you check your voice mails?”

  “No. I was at practice. We’re not allowed to have our phones on the field. I didn’t know anything was wrong until Coach pulled me aside and told me a driver was waiting to bring me here. What the fuck is going on?”

  Byers stops me in the middle of a deserted hallway. “You need to calm down. She’s already upset enough.”

  “I’m going to calm down all over your face unless I start getting answers. Now.”

  We both know Byers could kill me and make it look like an accident if it came down to it, but instead of blatantly laughing at my threat, a hint of respect clouds his eyes. “The DA called today. Sinclair is missing. He didn’t report for his parole check-in two weeks ago, and no one has heard from him since.”

  No. No, that can’t be. “Mallory hasn’t called. She would have told me if something was wrong.”

  Byers places both of his meaty hands on my shoulders like he can possibly physically calm me down. “Evie called her after the conversation with the DA. Mallory admitted she’s been busy with work, and hasn’t spoken with him. He won’t return any of her calls. She’s been trying all day.”

  I throw off Byers’ hold and vent my frustration on the first thing I see. The white, sterile, unforgiving hospital wall.

  What was the point of involving Mallory, of risking my marriage, if it was all going to come down to this anyway?

  Three punches aren’t nearly enough, but strong arms band around me before I can get in another hit.

  “Stop it,” Byers commands. “You’re not helping anyone, least of all your wife.”

  My wife.

  My life.

  Evie.

  I round on him so fast he has to step back. “Why is she here? Did he get to her? What’s wrong? Panic attack?”

  I’m clinging desperately to some invisible reason not to completely lose my shit.