At Arm's Length

by Amber Nation

  Now, I know what you’re thinking, but you need to tell your mind to move the hell on because I have. This has nothing to do with Holden Reed. I promise you!

  As far as I was concerned, Holden Reed was all but a fleeting memory. No, I was standing here in my kick ass killer heels that I splurged on in celebration for getting this opportunity.

  Dunn Associates, my former PR firm, called me stating that the Denver Broncos wanted a new image for several of their players. This type of challenge was right up my alley. They knew of the stellar reputation the firm held, but there was just one problem with obtaining this amazing account. They wanted someone local. Someone who was centrally located and who wouldn’t mind being here for possible days at a time. That’s when Dunn Associates recommended me and thus, put me back on the payroll. In essence, I was working as a freelance agent on contract for this specific team. I couldn’t have been more thrilled to be back doing what I loved, while still being able to help out my family.

  There was just one teensy, okay large, issue. I knew absolutely nothing about football. So as much as I agonized over it, I had no other choice but to ask Greg for a short rundown. And after his ‘short rundown’ turned into a lengthy explanation, I begged for the cliff’s notes version.

  After the entire grueling conversation, I was still completely clueless about the majority of the aspects pertaining to the game. So I was going to do my absolute best at winging it. I knew enough of the basics to where I could just allow my work to speak for itself.

  The easy option would’ve been to call Holden to get all of the specifics. But since I hadn’t heard a word from him since he walked out, I didn’t think it would be the wise choice to track him down and be able to keep my sanity and all.

  I never once researched his name after I deleted those Twitter notifications…

  Okay, fine. I had just one more time. The only thing that I learned was that he was leaving South Carolina. I had no desire to know why or even where he was going. I made Trudy and my family swear that if they knew, they were not to tell me under any circumstances.

  True to Trudy fashion, she argued, but when it didn’t appear that I was going to back down, she relented.

  So now here I was standing on the corner of the field, in my awesome shoes, my palms sweaty, and my stomach a flurry of nerves. But I decided not to dwell any further on my extreme nervousness. Instead, I was too busy appreciating the football uniforms. The way that they accentuated…I mean, I was sure that the spandex helps with their agility. I was getting way off topic here.

  Running my hands down my blouse, I smoothed any nonexistent wrinkles that my mind tricked me into thinking were there. Once I was satisfied that I looked moderately presentable, I hitched my purse higher on my shoulder, straightened my posture, and advanced toward the group of coaches on the field.

  A few feet in and I already knew that even though my heels were beyond amazing, they weren’t the best fit for a grassy football field. Regardless of this startling realization, I trudged on.

  I stopped only when I came up behind a line of coaches, clueless as to which one I was here to meet with.

  Clearing my throat, “Excuse me? I’m looking for Coach Jackson.”

  All four of the men simultaneously turned around, and I couldn’t help but to get the distinct feeling that I was on display. Perhaps not only should I not have worn heels, but it seemed I should’ve forgone the pencil skirt as well. The way the men were openly gawking, it wouldn’t have mattered if I came wearing a potato sack. They still would’ve been drooling. What was their problem? I immediately felt uneasy about this entire meeting.

  An older guy, not standing as a part of the group, came toward me from the other end of the field. Once he got closer he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so, which for some strange reason immediately put my mind at ease.

  He stopped in front of me and lifted his hand between us. The other coaches finally averted their eyes and turned back around, thankfully going back to their business.

  I grasped his outstretched hand and reciprocated the firm shake. “You must be Marlee Tate.”

  “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Coach Jackson.”

  “Oh please, call me Bill. And the pleasure is all mine.”

  I smiled and nodded. “All right, Bill.”

  The other coaches dispersed in front of me, and I was finally able to get a closer inspection, I mean view, of the players. Bill continued to speak, but my mind had officially tuned him out. He was now considered background noise next to the sound of my heart beating frantically within my chest.

  I couldn’t be entirely certain, but I could’ve sworn that one of the Coaches had just yelled, “Reed!”

  My eyes darted around to several of the players knowing that I wasn’t going to find him, that it was just some sort of coincidence. I mean, why would Holden end up here?

  Just then my eyes locked on a pair of striking blue ones. It couldn’t be. A lump formed in my throat, and I wanted nothing more than to drop my things and sprint across the field and into his arms. But then my brain caught up to my heart, and I kept my feet firmly planted on the ground. Even with the partial restriction of his football helmet, I knew without a doubt that those eyes belonged to Holden. Those eyes had starred in and then haunted my dreams. Those eyes were my weakness, and I needed to remember to be strong.

  He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed me, even though he was currently in the middle of running a play. Now I knew that I wasn’t a football expert by any stretch of the imagination, but it couldn’t have been a good thing to be at a complete standstill. Especially when you were in possession of the ball.

  The next sequence of events would’ve taken anyone by surprise, but Holden was none the wiser. Time seemed to go in agonizingly slow motion. I saw the guy who was built like a brick shithouse, coming upon Holden’s right side, charging directly toward him. My eyes widened, but even before I had time to react he was being tackled. And with how fast the guy was approaching, I could tell he was going down hard.

  “No!” I screamed. Holden’s body folded on impact, arms flying out in front of him, causing the ball to be tossed in the air as the guy impaled his side.

  The bottom of my stomach dropped as I watched the entire scene unfold. By the time Holden hit the ground everyone had already burst into action. The coaches were running out to the middle of the field and being that I was in such a state of shock, I didn’t realize that I had kicked off my shoes and was bringing up the rear only feet away from the coaches.

  Once I reached his side, I immediately dropped my purse before falling on my knees beside him.

  My hand immediately grasped his, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he squeezed mine back. A bubble of laughter escaped my throat as a few tears slid out of the corners of my eyes.

  “Spread out,” one of the coaches hollered, “give us some space.” If they thought for one second that I was going to comply, then they had another thing coming.

  Another one of the coaches placed his hand behind Holden’s neck and carefully slid off his helmet. Underneath revealed Holden’s overgrown hair that was currently a sweaty mess. Once he opened his eyes, he promptly sought out mine, then he raised the corners of his mouth in the most breathtaking smile. He had never looked more handsome.

  Coach Jackson was trying to get Holden to answer a series of questions, but he couldn’t be bothered to avert his attention from me. It was like he saw no one but me. I knew that he needed to be checked out, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t love the fact that he was focused solely on me.

  He gave my hand another gentle squeeze before he cleared his throat. After four months the first word that he spoke to me was a simple, “Hi.”

  A whimper released from deep in my throat as a whole new wave of tears fell from my eyes. Being able to hear his throaty tone and just being in his presence made me emotional.

  I scooted on my knees a little closer toward his head and with
my hand, I gently smoothed back his unruly hair. While doing so, I revealed a cut alongside his hairline, likely caused by his helmet and the impact. The thing of it was, it was almost in the exact same location as his previous cut.

  “We have got to stop meeting like this.” I leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the cut to see if I thought it required stitches. Smoothing my fingers across his skin just underneath the cut, luckily it didn’t look too deep. “You have a gash along your hairline.” It would probably leave a nasty scar, a match to his other that was just centimeters to the right.

  His smile faltered for the first time since he’d opened his eyes and seen me. “That’s why I grew my hair out. I didn’t want a constant reminder every morning when I looked in the mirror.”

  No sooner did those words come out of his mouth and register in my brain, I instantly dropped his hand and sat back on my haunches. “So you wouldn’t have a constant reminder of me?”

  “God, no!” He lifted himself up, grunting and groaning. I noticed he was favoring the right side of his ribs, using his arm to hug his middle. Some of the players tried to help him, but he waved them off with his other hand and a resounding grunt. He stretched out his arm, trying to reach for me, but I stopped his advances. “I didn’t want to face the constant reminder of the biggest mistake of my life.”

  My mouth dropped; I was flabbergasted. He just kept digging his hole deeper. And to think I was worried about him after being tackled. One of the players just stared at him, not believing that he said such a thing either. But words didn’t evade him. “Damn, dude. That was harsh.”

  “Shit!” He grabbed ahold of his head with his hands and shouted, “I’m fucking this up.” I raised my brows confirming his statement. “The biggest mistake being not opening up to you completely and then walking away. For not fighting for what I wanted the most.” I sat there for a moment before he spoke again. “I just want to clarify that what I want the most is you.”

  His clarification wasn’t needed, but there was one thing that I needed to know that was currently niggling in the back of my mind. “Why are you telling me this now? Wait…” I pointed a finger at him. “Wait…was this entire meeting your idea?” I wouldn’t believe that he would stoop so low as to put my career in the middle of this, but I wasn’t certain of anything at this point.

  “No, it was mine.” Another player approached, looking quite proud of himself and his actions. He could’ve been Michael Clark Duncan’s long lost twin. He was even equipped with the same deep baritone voice. The only distinguishing difference was this guy had the longest set of dreads I had ever seen in person, pulled back in a loose ponytail. I stood from my position and folded my arms over my chest, ready to hear his explanation.

  “Roscoe?” Holden asked.

  “Someone had to step up and be a damn man. And since you weren’t moving your ass fast enough, I thought that lighting a fire under it would speed things up a bit. Even then I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t make a damn fool of yourself. So I decided to present the perfect opportunity, and you still managed to fuck it up. Damn, man, don’t you have any charisma?”

  Roscoe turned his attention toward me. “The schmuck has been unbearable since Christmas.” It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one.

  “Don’t get me wrong, he has always been unbearable, but now it was without the anger being attached to it. It was like he was just basically existing without really living. Like he lost his light. And…now I’m getting way too sentimental.” He turned around and began walking off, but he did so muttering, “Next thing you know I’ll be moving across the damn country to be closer to the woman I love.” He busts out laughing, “As if that would ever fucking happen.”

  “But you’d do so to follow your best friend!” Holden yelled, and Roscoe stopped walking only to throw up his middle finger in the air in a nice parting gesture.

  Holden chuckled. “He always has to have the last word, in some form or another.” I looked down at him and glared, showing in no uncertain terms that I couldn’t find the humor in this. He avoided my gaze and instead glanced around to the few players who were still lingering on the field. “Come on, guys, help me up.” Two men jogged over, each taking an arm and helping Holden stand up from the ground. He winced briefly as they pulled him to his feet.

  “So this entire meeting was a ploy to get me here?” I still couldn’t wrap my head around this information.

  Holden’s face turned to granite as his humor faded. He came to stand beside me looking to his coaches with a raised brow. He seemed about as angry as I felt. And while I appreciated him backing me up, it wasn’t needed.

  “If I find out that Marlee’s been asked here because of anything but her extraordinary talent, then you’ll be answering to me.” Lord help me I knew that it shouldn’t, but The Beast making an appearance actually made me hot. One of the coaches glanced around for a moment at the other three, and their initial perusal finally made sense. Not that it made it any less creepy, but at least now I understood it. It was because they were all in this together.

  The guy chuckled nervously then finally spoke, “You know, the details seem a bit hazy.”

  Holden took a step toward the guy, and I immediately thought that all hell was going to break loose. Until finally, Coach Jackson seemed to have had enough and intervened. Frankly, I was thankful for the reprieve. I wasn’t big enough to hold Holden back, and I didn’t want to see exactly what all The Beast was capable of when he was unleashed. “Don’t listen to a word these boneheads have to say, even if their hearts were in the right place.” He glared at the one who decided to speak up. “They knew that we were looking for a new public relations firm and suggested Dunn Associates and specifically, Marlee Tate, and urged both upon me. It was my sole decision and Marlee’s portfolio that drove me to make my final decision.”

  What I felt could only be described as relief as he set my mind at ease. But then I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by my accusation. Ultimately it came down to needing to know, or I would’ve kept going through life always wondering why I had gotten the opportunity. I didn’t want a step up in my career because of who I knew and could be associated with.

  “I’m so sorry for the outburst, and I thank you for taking a chance on me and my work.”

  “Marlee,” Holden placed a hand on my shoulder, “can I speak to you for a minute?”

  I had the urge to exclaim, “Yes!” and then jump into his arms and ride off into the sunset. But this wasn’t that type of fairytale or any fairytale at all, and furthermore, I wasn’t on his time. I was on Coach Jackson’s. So I looked his way and received his approval in the form of a nod.

  “Thank you. I’ll be but just a second.” I walked over and scooped up my purse knowing that I could quite possibly be needing something to hold onto because this talk with Holden could go one of two ways. There was the off chance that I needed to remind myself to stay grounded and that just because if, and when, he decided to apologize that didn’t necessarily excuse his actions. And also, I had it at my disposal in case the need arose for a weapon. Never underestimate the bodily harm a purse could cause when swung just right and with enough force behind it. Not that I had ever needed to use a purse as a weapon, but there was a first time for everything. Next, I went to where I had kicked off my shoes, one spaced out a few feet away from the other and slipped them back on my bare feet. I did this to feel not only taller but more confident. And let’s face it, I needed all the confidence I could get. I had to be strong, and at the moment I felt anything but.

  When I approached Holden, he appeared apprehensive and just downright nervous. Nothing like the self-assured, confident man I had grown to care about. I told myself that I was going to keep an open mind and let him say what he needed to say, even though what I really wanted to do was give him a piece of my mind. Afterward, I could always call Trudy and tell her to be sure to have ice cream on standby.

  I wanted to be angry, had every intention of
being so, but once I stopped in front of him and saw the insecurity lingering in his eyes, I blurted out, “You know you really should have someone look at that cut.” I didn’t know if I was trying to delay the inevitable, but even when I wasn’t trying to, I was still looking out for him. It was hard trying to not care for someone that you felt so deeply for.

  “I’m not worried about that damn cut, Marlee,” he bit out tersely and then stopped to take a deep breath. The next time he spoke, his tone was much gentler, “I’m worried about you, pixie.”

  Hearing the nickname he gave me made me want to break down and cry. Then I would go and do something foolish, like be the one to apologize to him. That wasn’t who I was anymore, and never with Holden. I was going to stand my ground. I just had to continue to channel my inner strength.

  “Oh really, you seem to be just beside yourself with worry,” I replied sarcastically. “I mean not hearing a word from you in four months?” I pinched my forefinger and thumb together just to reiterate that I was trying to make a point. “You are the very epitome of worry.” I didn’t intend on coming off as harsh as I did, but I was going with it.

  “I know that I haven’t reached out to you, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t going to.”

  “Saying that you’re going to and actually doing it are two very different things, Holden.”

  He ran his hand over his soaked hair. “I have been keeping tabs on you, though.” I raised my brows when he didn’t immediately elaborate. He looked toward the ground, and when he spoke it was barely audible so I had to lean forward to catch every word. “Through your dad.”

  I gasped, not believing that I heard him correctly. “You have got to be kidding me; you’ve been talking to my dad?”

  When he didn’t deny my question, I threw my hands up in the air. “Unbelievable.” I had to be living in the most twisted episode of The Twilight Zone. That was the only viable explanation. Wait a minute, was I being punk’d? Because my dad wouldn’t intrude on my life like that.