He rarely had more than one drink a night, left the parties early and alone. They weren’t part of his life anymore. He didn’t get any satisfaction from superficial crap. He’d cut way back on his spending, invested his Super Bowl bonus instead of blowing it, and sold a couple vacation houses to help fund the mansion rehab. All in all, his bank account started its slow recovery from anemic to financially secure.
Tonight he’d fly back to Seattle and his fu—frigging cat. Hell, he’d even managed to confine his use of the F word to special occasions.
Either time would heal his wounds—and so far that wasn’t working for him—or make Lavender’s heart grow fonder, fond enough she’d hunt him down.
And if she didn’t hunt him down, he’d know the truth behind her feelings. Proud men didn’t beg. If he had one thing left, it happened to be his pride.
* * * * *
For two months, Lavender denied everything. She denied missing Tyler. She denied her mother might not have been straight with her about her father. She denied she truly missed her father. And she denied that she wanted to know the truth.
She immersed herself in her work with her seniors and enrolled in an online course in the gerontology field. Eventually she’d get a degree, maybe in nursing. It was long past time to grow up and figure out what she was doing with the rest of her life.
A summer storm hit her little house, forcing her inside. Across the pasture, the workmen hurried in and out of the old mansion, carrying tools and supplies. She’d love to see the inside, but she kept her distance. Besides, the person she wanted to see wasn’t in residence. Every time she looked out the window she hoped to see his big truck, but nothing. He’d left, and he’d forgotten all about her. She’d seen some of the pictures online of him at parties, and they broke her heart.
The envelope she’d stashed under the couch two months ago beckoned to her. Lavender hesitated. In her family’s case, ignorance might be bliss—or not.
Setting her jaw, she got down on her knees and rummaged under the couch. She pulled out the overstuffed manila envelope and shook the dust bunnies off it. Housekeeping had never been her strong suit. Ripping open the envelope, Lavender poured the contents onto the coffee table and began to riffle through them.
Unopened letters and cards addressed to Lavender from her father were scattered across the old coffee table’s marred surface. Return to sender was scrawled across each one in her mother’s handwriting. A decade of birthday and Christmas cards Lavender had never received. As she examined each item, more damning evidence came to light.
The cold blade of betrayal sliced through her. She felt physically ill, like she’d come down with the flu or some kind of bug. Yeah, the betrayal bug. Clutching her stomach, she stumbled to a chair and sat down with a thud.
Her mother led her to believe her father didn’t care, that he’d abandoned her, in order to keep her daughter under control and her father out of her life. The selfishness of her mother overwhelmed her.
Her hands shook as she picked up another piece of paper, an accounting of the child support her father paid over the years. Another of her mother’s lies shattered by cold, hard proof.
The deed on the property came next. Another lie unveiled. Her mother had collected rent on a house she didn’t own.
An opened envelope addressed to her father in her mother’s handwriting caught her attention. The postmark indicated a date just before her high school graduation. She pulled out the one-page letter and read it.
Lavender asked me to write to you. Please do not contact her. She wishes no further contact with you in any way, shape, or form, especially at her graduation. She does not consider you her father. Please do not cause our family any further pain with your selfish actions. Leave us alone. Brenda
Icy cold ran through her. A tear slipped down her cheek and onto the letter, blurring a few words. Lavender crumpled the letter in her fist. It slid from her fingers to the floor. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth.
She’d sat on that stage at graduation and watched for her father, growing more and more depressed as each moment passed.
Selfish? Her mother called her father selfish for attempting to contact her? She’d swallowed her mother’s lies. All these years, she’d been denied a relationship with her father and brother because her mother wouldn’t share her children.
Brenda had lied about everything.
Lavender stared at the proof littering the top of the table. She’d patterned her life according to her mother’s wishes. She’d blindly believed everything she was told and never attempted to uncover the truth for herself.
Now it was time to live her life, not her mother’s version of it, and damn the consequences. There was room in her heart for both parents, and she was ready to forgive.
* * * * *
Lavender paced the floor and fretted, twisting her ring harder than ever. One thing at a time. First her mother. Then her father. Then Tyler?
Brenda swept into the room, a huge smile on her face, and hugged her daughter. She didn’t seem to notice Lavender didn’t hug her back. Larry said nothing and took a seat across the room. Lavender hadn’t seen it before, but she did now. Larry didn’t seem to have a mind of his own. He did Brenda’s bidding.
Tight-lipped, Lavender stood as tall as a short person could and put some space between them. She clutched a crumpled letter in one hand. Without a word, she gave it to Brenda. Brenda glanced at it then did a double take. Her face turned white as she recognized the contents.
“Lavender, I can explain. I did this for your own good.” Brenda reached out for her daughter, but Lavender evaded her. She saw her mother’s actions as they really were, just another way to manipulate her.
“No, Mom. You did it for you. Not me.” She twisted her ring harder, ignoring the ache in her finger and her heart.
“Honey, everything I do has been for you. I’ve sacrificed everything for you.” Brenda’s words rang false, draining her mother’s power over her. Lavender hadn’t realized until this moment how much she’d allowed her mother to control her life.
“Does that include hiding this stuff from me and collecting rent on a property you don’t own?” Lavender pointed at the various cards and letters littering the table. Frowning, Larry rose from his chair and crossed to the table. He picked up the deed.
“You don’t own this property?” Larry stared at Brenda as if he’d never seen her before.
Brenda blanched and went on the defensive, ignoring Larry. “You’ve been talking to your father.”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m going to.” She stared her mother in the eyes. She’d taken control of her life and was standing up to her mother. As hard as it was, she felt empowered.
“You wouldn’t betray me like that. I’ve always been there for you.” Brenda’s cold voice contained a warning, but Lavender had prepared for the worst.
“It’s not a matter of betrayal, Mom. If you won’t support me, at least tolerate my desire to have a relationship with my father. Be happy for me. Don’t make me choose. I want you both in my life. I wish you’d see it that way.” Lavender’s voice broke, but she held to her convictions.
“I don’t see it that way. Not at all. You’ve disappointed me and broken my heart.” Turning on her heel, Brenda grabbed Larry’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Casting an apologetic glance over his shoulder, Larry, still looking shell-shocked, followed Brenda out the door. Her mother made her choice and Lavender would make hers. She didn’t cry. She didn’t break down. She found an inner strength she didn’t know she had and made a phone call. One she should’ve made years ago.
Chapter 28—Final Seconds
Tyler stood next to his locker. He listened to the sounds of men getting ready for the third preseason game. The veterans good-naturedly harassed the rookies. Cleats clattered on the floor. Familiar smells filled his nostrils, and a little tendril of excitement ignited his soul.
He couldn’t kid himself. Training camp was toug
h and the first two preseason games even tougher. For a few weeks, the press dogged his every step, resurrecting the rumors of a fictional DUI and his time in rehab. No charges were filed for the lip he’d given the officer after ramming his car. His attorney insisted he was off the hook. The rehab rumors might be tougher to overcome, but he’d cleaned up his act, and his improved attitude spoke volumes.
Tyler didn’t miraculously get his game back overnight, but he was on the right path. Maybe HughJack couldn’t see it. Maybe Murphy still questioned his dedication and his fire. Maybe the team still treated him with guarded respect. He’d win them over.
Tyler would battle his way back and push aside the doubts. He’d learn to relax, let things happen, not force them. He’d find the zone again, that space where the best athletes went in their heads, time slowed down, and every move became crystal clear.
Tyler strapped on his pads and stared at two small photos taped to his locker: his father in his pilot’s uniform standing next to his helicopter and Ryan, in healthier days, holding a football.
At that moment he knew.
You are proud of me, aren’t you, Dad? Ry?
Yeah, they were and so were Uncle Art and all the other Harrises whose blood ran through his veins and all the Harrises to come. Yeah, they’d loved Twin Cedars and preserved it for the next generation. He would, too.
Tyler had refocused on the game, at peace with himself and his direction. Training camp didn’t tell him much. Some of his passes reflected the quarterback he once was, some didn’t. Regardless, he’d resurrect his old killer instincts and relentless drive to succeed or die trying. He’d had some great practices, taken no prisoners, and forced the Steelheads’ defense to do their job, especially Murphy. The old guy huffed like a rusty industrial fan as he chased Tyler around the practice field trying for a sack.
Speaking of the devil…
Murphy walked up to him and blocked access to Tyler’s locker. They glared at each other, eye to eye, man to man. “I don’t like you very much, and I sure as hell don’t respect you.”
“I don’t fucking like you, either.” Hey, the conversation merited use of the F word. Tyler sneered at the ass. He did respect Murphy. The guy was everything Tyler used to be. Murphy left it all out on the field.
“I’ll be watching you, fuckhead. Let’s see if you can play like the champion you’re supposed to be.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He pushed Murphy aside to get his cleats from his locker. Murphy stepped back, not causing a scene in front of the team. Both men were fully aware that several sets of eyes absorbed their every move.
“I want that ring. I want it so bad I can taste it like the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I want it so bad I’d give my left nut for it. Hell, I’d give both nuts. I want a ring. If you fuck this up for me, I’ll destroy you. I promise.”
“Damn, I’m scared.” Tyler held his hand over his mouth in a yawn. “Can’t help it that you’ve been a loser all your life. Don’t hold me responsible.”
“You and I need to spend some time in the ring.”
“It’d be my pleasure. I’d love to whip your ass once the season ends.”
Murphy nodded, his face set in stone. The linebacker turned back to his locker and his posse of young players.
Tyler snorted with disgust. He reined in his emotions, forced his mind back on the game, nothing but the game. Murphy didn’t deserve to be a blip on his internal radar. Tyler sat on the bench, head down, and closed his eyes. He practiced every technique he knew to get in the right state of mind.
The guys left him alone, knowing he needed time to focus and visualize the game. Instead, he kept visualizing purple.
Damn.
He missed Lavender like he’d miss his throwing arm. When he’d first come back from the islands, he’d expected her to call, been certain she’d call. Instead, nothing. Silence. Nada. As the days turned to weeks and months, he’d become less certain, and something told him they weren’t finished. Not yet. If he knew his purple lady, and he believed he did, she missed him as much as he missed her.
They had unfinished business. She’d left an empty hole in his heart, even as she’d helped him fill the emptiness since Ryan’s death and even his father’s death years ago. Football had filled that void once. And once again, it was all he had.
After the season ended, he was going after her.
“Hey, Ty, it’s time.” Derek slapped him on the shoulder pads.
“Yeah, right.” Tyler stood and jogged after his teammates down the tunnel leading to a packed stadium of rabid Steelheads fans. The team surged around him, running onto the field. He paused at the tunnel opening. His fingers flexed on the helmet in his hand. The stadium roared. Blue and gold towels waved in the crazed crowd. The green turf spread out before him. Eagerness thrummed through him. Anticipation churned in his gut.
This was his stage. His. He owned it. He’d owned it since the day he’d first picked up a football and toddled toward his father with it clutched in his tiny hands. He’d own it this year.
Several plays later, Tyler stood on the sidelines and watched the defense crush the Saints, pinning them back to their own fifteen. Grudgingly, he admitted Murphy was brilliant. The guy was everywhere, barking orders to the defense, sacking the quarterback, stuffing their opponents’ running game up their ass. Murphy played like a man with something to prove, and he played like a guy in his twenties. No way in hell would Tyler give anything less on the field than the Steelheads’ pain-in-his-ass defensive captain.
The Saints punted. Special teams downed the ball on the Steelheads forty-five. Tyler strapped on his helmet and sprinted onto the field. Derek flanked him. Bruiser Mackay, his running back, dogged his heels, constantly yammering to carry the ball. Tyler called the plays. His confident tone and aggressive stance demanded respect. He got it. At least to a point. The guys watched him warily. He’d disappointed them before. Now he’d work twice as hard to gain back their trust.
Things were as they should be.
Maybe.
He waited for the rush of adrenaline and wasn’t disappointed. It coursed through his veins, stampeded over his earlier doubts. He could do this. He wanted to do this.
His teammates stared at him from around the huddle and waited for the play. The stadium crackled with electricity.
Tyler Harris took his position behind center. He didn’t like what he saw and audibled a different play. He barked the signals, set the team in motion. Pads smacked against pads. Linemen grunted as they protected the pocket. Receivers ran their routes. Tyler scanned the field, spotted his open man, and snapped the ball into the air. The tight end hauled it in for a first down and then some. Tyler marched his team down the field until a quick toss to Derek in the end zone netted their first score of the game.
The crowd erupted with their approval. A slow smile crossed Tyler’s face. Satisfaction warmed his insides. Determination flowed through his veins. His body thrummed with pure joy.
He loved this game.
He was back.
* * * * *
Lavender sat in the stands between her brother, Andy, and her father. Andy taught high school on the east side and, following the family tradition, coached football and baseball. Lavender had made several of his high school games, even though the ferry ride to the mainland every weekend proved to be time-consuming.
So much had changed over the past few months. She’d called her father and arranged a meeting with him and her brother. They talked it out, had a good cry, and agreed to forgive and move on. Her mother found out and threw one of her maniacal fits, but Lavender didn’t cave this time. She held her ground.
Together with her brother, she met with Brenda and Larry a few weeks ago. They told Brenda they’d like to have a relationship with her, but regardless they’d be having a relationship with their father also. Brenda would hear nothing of it. Larry, on the other hand, surprised them. After Brenda stormed out of the room, he promised them he’d get he
r into counseling. He’d keep the lines of communication open with them.
The old mansion was a flurry of pounding and sawing as carpenters and craftsmen worked to restore it to its former splendor. Homer supervised the remodel when Tyler’s sisters weren’t in residence. The two women sent the workmen cowering for cover.
Lavender accepted her father’s invitation to attend a Steelheads game for a couple of reasons. One, to be with her father and brother. Two, to see Tyler. She missed him. He’d been right about a lot of things, and she owed him an apology.
Hopeful she might be on the verge of having it all, Lavender watched the last piece of her life’s puzzle on the field below. Tyler Harris commanded his team, the picture of absolute confidence. When the defense went in, Tyler didn’t sit on the bench. He roamed the sidelines and shouted encouragement to the defense when needed and chewed ass when deserved.
She stole her brother’s binoculars, ignoring his annoyance. Tyler looked good. Really, really good. She’d stalked the internet for the past months and found little gossip about him. He’d been lying low, working out, studying the game. She’d expected nothing less. One small article she read made her proud. Tyler had become a regular at several veterans facilities in Seattle over the past few months, along with the cancer ward at the children’s hospital. She gave herself a little credit for pointing out to him the good he could do as a local celebrity. He’d obviously taken her advice to heart.
He’d either be happy to see her or snub her. She didn’t know what his reaction would be; she only knew that if she didn’t try, she’d wonder for the rest of her life what could have been.
One step at a time. First, she’d confronted her mother with the truth. Then she’d reconciled with her dad. Now she’d figure out where she stood with the Steelheads’ sexy quarterback.
Selecting Tyler’s cell number, she texted a picture of Tyler on the field and a picture of her in the stands wearing his jersey number. As soon as he checked messages in the locker room after the game, he’d know she was there.
Snap Decision Page 27
