by Sierra Hill
I’m absolutely spent, my arms looped around her front, holding her to me as our breaths slowly return to normal.
Reaching forward over her head, I grab the paper towel roll, tearing off a sheet and reaching between us to wipe up the sticky mess left behind over both of us.
“It’s cool, I’ve got this. I’ll just go take a shower.”
“Mmm. That sounds good. Then how about we get back in bed? I think we should take advantage of the quiet while it lasts and snooze a little longer this morning.”
Brooklyn turns with a mocking smile fixed across her red, swollen lips.
“Tired, are we, old man?” she snickers.
And as I chase her back down the hall, all I can think about is how fast I’ve fallen for this remarkable woman.
Damn. I’ve fallen hard.
26
Brooklyn
Garrett and I spend the next three days in domesticated bliss.
We hiked up Camelback Mountain yesterday morning and then drove out to the San Tan Flat where we enjoyed dinner under the stars and even danced to a live band. For a tall white guy, Garrett brought out the moves and impressed me with his dance skills. Me, not so much. But I had fun because he made it fun.
The beauty of our alone time together was getting to know him on a deeper level. And honestly, I’d been dying to know the history between him and Penelope, and where Becca, Caleb and his change in career fit into the picture.
Over a margarita that was in a glass bigger than my head, I finally got up the nerve to ask him about his past.
“Obviously, I now know that Becca wasn’t Caleb’s birth mother, and I know a little about Penelope, but what exactly happened? Care to share the background on that story?”
The look that flashes across his face is riddled with guilt, sorrow and something else. Something enigmatic and bordering on tempestuous. But I patiently wait as he takes a long pull of his beer, staring off into the crowd around us.
“I was young and stupid.”
I cover his knee with my hand, as we sit side-by-side in a booth facing the dance floor.
“We’ve all done dumb things, Garrett.”
He huffs. “Not one that nearly ruins your life, your relationship or your career.”
A pang of sorrow hits me square in the chest hearing the regret laced within his words.
“But look where it brought you? You have an amazing new career as a coach for one of the NCAA’s best teams in the league and a wonderful son who you adore. And you were married to a wonderful woman.”
I never knew Becca, but from everything he’s told me about her, she was pretty damn great. She seemed to hold things together for him and stood by him during his darkest times.
“And don’t forget the dead wife and gold-digging hoops honey who traded her son for cash.”
I gasp on an inhale of my drink and choke out a cough. The bitterness in his words leave me speechless, so I say nothing, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin.
A few moments pass and he remains steely quiet.
“Garrett, I’m sorry. I know you suffered such a loss and it must have been horrible. And I didn’t realize that Penelope…”
He heaves a sigh. “Was a fucking mistake. A one-night stand that I had on a road trip during my rookie year, right after Becca had broken up with me.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize. I thought you were together at the time.”
His look of disgust has me shrinking in my seat. “What, so all this time you thought I cheated on Becca? Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
I swallow the lump in my throat because he’s kind of right. Not knowing the entire sordid story, and only having partial facts, I did make an assumption that he stepped out on Becca when he got Penelope pregnant.
“You’re right, I didn’t have all the facts and made an assumption about how you ended up having a child with someone that wasn’t your wife.”
“Fuck,” he curses, downing the rest of his beer and signaling the waitress for another one. “So, you’ve thought the worst of me this whole time, just like the media.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not it at all. I just didn’t know the circumstances surrounding Caleb’s birth and the timing. Garrett, I’ve never thought poorly of you. I think you’re an amazing man, coach, and father.”
He stares down at the empty beer bottle, picking at the label while he waits for another.
“The media was fucking cruel and it was a shitshow for over a year. They created such sensational tabloid fodder. And of course, Penelope being Penelope, loved all the media attention and the limelight. I had just finally convinced Becca to take me back and marry me about a month before Penelope announced she was pregnant.”
“Oh. How did Becca react?”
Garrett dips his head, hiding his eyes from my curious gaze. “Becca was unbelievably understanding. Which made it even worse because I knew how much it hurt her. My actions nearly destroyed us. It was such a slap in the face considering it was the reason she’d originally broken up with me.”
I tilt my head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Becca and I had been together for three years prior to that. I was faithful and monogamous always. But I was out on the road, traveling, becoming a rookie sensation, well, that drew attention from fans and the media. It attracted a lot of women trying to get a piece of me. Becca wasn’t the jealous type. In fact, she was extremely mature about the whole thing. But during a homestretch in Chicago, she came up for the weekend to visit and broke up with me. Told me she loved me, but she didn’t want to live that lifestyle. And she wanted me to be free, in essence, to fuck around if I wanted to.”
Garrett shakes his head. “She basically said, ‘I don’t want to stand in your way and have you live with regret. Go have fun.’”
I remain relatively silent, my hands in my lap, as our waitress returned, asking me if I want another drink, which I decline. Garrett hands over the empty bottle and takes a sip of the new one.
“The irony of it all,” he chuckles darkly. “Looking back on it now, I wonder how I could’ve been so stupid. I was a fucking selfish asshole to let her go like that.”
I scoot in closer so our hips and legs touch, and cup the side of his face, turning him to look at me.
“Garrett, you did what any twenty-four-year old rookie probably would’ve done. I’m sure she didn’t blame you. It’s better that way than to cheat on your girlfriend or wife.”
“I never would’ve cheated,” he says with conviction.
My hands still have their hold on his jaw, and I nod my head. “I know you. I know you wouldn’t. You loved her.”
I’ll admit, I wanted to hear this story, but it doesn’t make it easy to hear. I wanted to know about Garrett’s life before I came into the picture. But it does hurt a little to learn about your lover’s former wife and the depth of his love for this woman.
“I loved her, yes. But I ruined her life. I ruined everything.”
“Garrett, life happens. You did the best you could under the circumstances. You can’t blame yourself.”
“Everything from that moment on was my fault. It was a chain reaction and took several years, but the night I slept with Penelope, it changed everything.” He stands from the table then, grabbing the bill the waitress just left for us and looks down at me expectantly.
I feel awful now for starting this conversation. We were having such a great time together, dancing and drinking. And being that it is our last night before Caleb came back home, I’d hoped we’d spend the night together in bed, making slow love the entire night through.
Instead, when we get home, Garrett says he had some things to do to get ready for his team’s basketball tournament the following week.
So, I lay in my own bedroom, wide awake for hours, the enormity of Garrett’s situation crushing my heart and inducing a gut-wrenching pain over his loss.
27
Garrett
I left on Tuesday for a road trip wi
th my team at a tournament in southern California, leaving Brooklyn and Caleb back home to fend for themselves.
Brooklyn has been taking care of things in my absence for a month and I have no discomfort leaving my son in her care while I’m gone. But I miss being home with them both. My mother went off to Sedona on Monday, saying she had a wonderful time at Disneyland with Caleb, Addison, and Wyatt, but forgot how tiring it is to wait in such long ride lines with two young boys in the hot sun.
The timing of this summer tournament really sucks because I wanted to spend more time at home with Caleb. I missed his happiness, his laugh infectious, and I really needed his mood-lifting hugs after the heavy conversation I’d had with Brooklyn the other night.
It was rare for me to speak about the period of time before Caleb with anyone. Only in my appointments with my grief counselor did I ever share those feelings. When Brooklyn first asked me, I wasn’t sure what I’d say. I know she’s not like Penelope and wouldn’t sell me out to the world, but there was a moment where I felt on guard and reluctant to share the truth.
But then I realized it was Brooklyn. She’s proven her unyielding loyalty from the moment we met, not only with Caleb but with me, as well. So I opened up, sharing my most personal stories with her. And while part of it was liberating, it also reopened old wounds.
Reminding me of what I lost when Becca died.
“How’s everything going, Coach?”
I look up from where I sit on the team bus to see Lance towering over me in the aisle, all six-foot-four of his lumbering frame taking up the entire space between the seats.
“Pretty good, bro.”
There’s a pile of papers on the seat next to me and I shuffle them together, picking them up to offer him a place to sit down. “Have a seat.”
Before he sits down, he scolds two of the players sitting in the back of the bus.
“Yo, Donnell and Shane. Knock it the fuck off with that shit, otherwise, I’ll have you scrubbing the bus floors tonight.”
I quirk an eyebrow, peering over my shoulder to get a glimpse at the boys, who were shooting spitballs at one of the boys in the seats in front of them.
Boys.
I chuckle, turning back around as Lance sits down and I give him a side-eyed glance. “Look at you doling out the punishments like a hard-ass assistant coach.”
He laughs boisterously. “Right? Who’d have thought I’d have it in me? Up ‘til a few years ago, I was just like them. Getting in trouble all the damn time. Not caring about the consequences. It’s a wonder I’m here today.”
Nodding my head in agreement, I make some notes in my iPad about some plays I want us to practice before our first tournament game.
“You’re a great player, Lance, and have a good coaching career ahead of you. The boys really respect the way you give them advice on and off the court. You’re doing great, bro.”
I clap him on the shoulder because I am proud of how far he’s come. It was a pretty big gamble hiring him for this gig, based on his downward spiral less than a year ago. Lance was dealing with some pretty deep emotional shit that affected his life, turning to drugs as a coping mechanism. Thankfully, he found a way through all that and dealt with it before it killed him.
“Thanks, Coach. I owe a lot of it to you. You’re the only one who saw my potential and gave me a chance.”
I give him a wave of my hand to dismiss his acknowledgment. “I offered you the chance, but it was you who did something with it. Speaking of which, I want to give O’Connell a chance to start at center. What do you think? I know you’ve been working a lot of one-on-one time with him these past few weeks. You want to give him a chance?”
Lance scrubs a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, man. The kid has the power and speed but has really lacked aggressiveness. He guards and blocks like he’s scared of the ball. But I found out while working with him that someone got in his head this past season, calling him names and it really messed with his mojo. But I think we conquered those fears. I’d like to see him start.”
“Perfect. I’ll add him to the starting line-up for tomorrow’s game. Nice work with him.”
“Thanks. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you how things are going with Caleb. Is Brooklyn working out for you?”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. I’ve been doing my best to avoid thinking about her on this trip, but she’s constantly there. I miss her in a way that I haven’t missed anyone in a really long time.
I know this time away will be good for us, good for me, and I feel like shit for the way I left things the night of our talk, but I need that distance right now to figure out my headspace.
I’m not sure what I want with Brooklyn. It scares the shit out of me to know I’ve fallen for her so deeply.
I rely on her like no other in this world and I care about her more than I can admit. But after dredging up all those old memories and feelings the other night, it made me realize that I don’t have anything to give her right now. I can give her sex, but my heart is still shaded too dark from all the trauma I went through. I’m just not in a place to be able to be in a relationship.
Not now, and maybe not ever.
“Things are good. She’s doing great with Caleb. She’s connected with him so well and has taught him so much. It’s amazing to see how much Caleb has learned just from Brooklyn’s tutoring this summer.”
Lance grins. “I told you, man. I knew she’d be great for you guys. And you, too.”
He winks and my hands twitch as I stare blankly at him.
Shaking his head and with a roll of his eyes, he deadpans, “Denial ain’t just a river in Africa, Coach. I see it written all over your face.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Nothing is written across my face except a desire to win this tournament.” I draw a circle with my finger in front of my face.
He snorts. “For realz, Coach. I think you got it bad.”
“Fuck you, Britton. Why don’t you go toss some shit around with the boys back there? Have a little come to Jesus talk with them or something. Quit acting like you’re a love-guru or Dr. Phil.”
Lance stands from his seat and laughs. “Sure thing, Coach. Sure thing. But I’m on to you. You ain’t fooling nobody.”
Maybe not. Or maybe I’m only fooling myself.
28
Brooklyn
“Okay, Caleb. Let’s practice this again so when your daddy comes home, you can surprise him. He’s going to be so proud of you.”
I squeeze his shoulders in a side hug and hand him the iPad. Over the last three days, while Garrett has been out of town, I’ve been working with Caleb on using his iPad speech app, teaching him how to create sentences with the images on the app. He’s been talking up a storm and it thrills me to know he’s able to communicate so much more clearly now without having to rely on his own voice.
Caleb grins wide, letting out a little screech of excitement too. Then he points to the pictures on the app, spelling out his greeting for when Garrett comes through the door. I wanted to keep this a surprise until he got home, even though Garrett’s been FaceTiming with us while he’s been gone.
“Good job, buddy!” I give him an encouraging kiss on top of his head. I want everything to be absolutely perfect when Garrett gets home today, hoping that whatever slump he’s been in emotionally will lift and we can continue working through this together.
He’s been all too professional toward me when we’ve video chatted this week, whether that’s for the sake of Caleb or he’s trying to put distance between us, I’m not sure. When I mentioned it to Peyton, she suggested that it’s “just a guy thing” and nothing to be concerned about.
But I’m not so sure. He’s gone through a bevy of trauma in his life and the last thing he needs is to fall into a relationship with his nanny. So I’ve decided to just play it cool and focus on the one thing that truly matters, and that’s Caleb.
And honestly, I’m not sure I am even ready for
a relationship with Garrett. We fit together really well. I can see myself with him long-term because I understand who he is, what he loves and what he goes through on a daily basis with Caleb.
Yet, I have my own goals and dreams that don’t include being his nanny forever. Once I leave and go back to grad school, what does that mean for our relationship? I’m not going to put my educational plans on hold for him.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been enormously happy living with Garrett and Caleb this summer, and the icing on the cake is the personal feelings that have developed for Garrett.
But professionally, I want so much more. I don’t plan on dropping any of those goals to remain a full-time nanny and live-in lover. In fact, my schedule for the fall semester just arrived in the mail this week. I’d dropped off Caleb at his occupational therapy appointment on Wednesday and then swung over to the apartment to have a quick coffee with Peyton.
“Are you excited about your last year of school?” I’d asked Peyton, who has one remaining year to finish her degree. I flopped down on the couch barefooted after filling my coffee cup with creamer to water down the extremely strong brew she always makes.
“Yes, although it’s giving me pangs of anxiety. I have such a tough load this year. I really fucked myself over last year by taking so few courses. And now I have to add on my internship, to boot.”
“You didn’t really have a choice. You had to work and be there for your mother.”
Peyton’s mom went through a harrowing ordeal with her ex-husband, being sent to the hospital having been beaten nearly to an inch of her life. Peyton was by her side the entire time, taking a family leave of absence from school, but continuing to work to help pay her mom’s medical bills and therapy costs after the event.
And it certainly didn’t help her own health condition one bit. She admitted to struggling with her bulimia during that period of time and it broke my heart to know she will have to deal with that for the rest of her life.
