Just Play

by Taylor Hart

  He didn’t speak, letting out a puff of air. “Okay.” He whipped around to face her.

  She couldn’t stop herself from looking at him.

  His face was animated. “Okay, you’re right. You don’t have the same junk I was dealing with, but…I do remember the first little league game I ever played in.”

  She puffed out a breath. “What does this have to do with that?”

  “In sixth grade, I had made the top team, and I felt all this pressure. I remember it so well because my mom was still alive, and my dad hadn’t started drinking yet. Both of them were there. I remember looking at them, seeing their expectant faces on the sideline as the team gathered. I remember the coach looking right at me as he told us we were going to kick the snot out of the opposing team. I remember being terrified—that I would choke. That I couldn’t throw the ball where I’d practiced. The plays were all jumbled in my head.” He nodded. “If I would have had a mirror then, I would have looked just like you.”

  Part of her thought he was ridiculous, but her mind had been focused on the picture he put in front of her. She kept hearing the part when he’d said, ‘When my mom was still alive and my father wasn’t drinking yet.’ That touched her. It got through to the part of her that was having a freak out session.

  He continued. “And my dad walked over to me, and he said…” He blinked.

  She got out of the truck and stood in front of him. She touched his arm. “What did he say?”

  He put his head down. Then he looked up, tears in his eyes. “He said, ‘Sammy, don’t think. Just play. Just play.’ And…I did.” He grinned and rubbed his hand quickly over his eyes. “And we won that game.”

  She sniffed, his story touching a part of her.

  Putting both hands on her shoulders, he smiled down at her. “So I’m giving you the same advice because I’ve heard you, and you are amazing. Don’t think. Just play.”

  Chills washed over her, and she found herself digging down deep. “Okay, let’s go in.”

  12

  After going in the side door that led straight into the bar, Sam listened to her from behind the bar, on his butt on the floor, with his legs pulled up against his chest. The lower part of his back was stiff, and he’d pay for this position tomorrow, but he didn’t care. Yes, Jared had leaked it. Idiot. But after Jared had realized how upset Sam was that he’d leaked it, he’d agreed to hide him behind the bar. Jared was pleased with the full band that accompanied Tiffany, and the crowd had been huge. At first, they were disappointed when they couldn’t find Sam, but to Sam’s pleasure, they’d stayed when the music had started.

  Her voice was fluid. Beautiful. It had that certain something that was that ‘it’ factor. He could feel it. If she were on America’s Got Talent, she would win. He grinned to himself, thinking he would definitely pick her to win.

  Thoughts of her reaching out and taking his hand when he’d told her what he’d never told anyone else made emotion surge inside of him. In a moment one could only call an epiphany, Sam realized he’d never felt that kind of thing with Sheena. No.

  That had been physical.

  He wished he had recognized it for what it was. It’d only been when he’d slipped into the number one spot that she’d showed interest in him, complaining that it was so hard with Roman struggling. She’d acted like she was concerned for Roman, and Sam had been too stupid and fallen for her seductions. He’d been fooled. He thought about those moments when he’d crossed the line and how he’d felt. It had happened so fast. It had felt like getting stuck in the undertow out in the ocean. You can see the surface, but no matter how hard you swim up, the tide pulls you deeper.

  Jared stepped on him.

  “Hey,” he called out.

  Jared flashed him an annoyed glance and then went back to taking care of the bar.

  Sam listened to song after song, letting the music and her voice flow into him. Some of the songs, like the one she’d taught him earlier, he didn’t recognize from main stream music. He knew he would have to get his hands on an instrument later and tinker with a couple of them. They were wonderful.

  Two hours later, she peeked her head over the counter, her hair falling like summer around him. “Hey.” She grinned. “I think it’s safe now. Most of the dinner crew has cleared out.”

  Staring at her with electricity running through him, he grinned. “Okay.” He got up, loosening up his legs.

  Every part of her facial features was alive with happiness. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t know if I could have done it without the pep talk.”

  “You’re welcome.” The intensity of what he felt for her and how much he’d wanted to help her caught him off guard. He hadn’t wanted to help another person that much in a long time. He’d been so caught up in his own world.

  She let out a light laugh. “Do you know what the lead of the band, Joe, said tonight?”

  “Tell me.” He moved around the bar counter to be closer to her. To enjoy this moment of success with her.

  “He told me I could join their band if I wanted.” She hiccup giggled.

  Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her and swung her off the floor. “Yee-haw!” he said in his red neck voice.

  She laughed and let him.

  He put her down, and then she shoved off of him. “You’re crazy.”

  But he pulled her back into him.

  The moment went slow and sticky, and all he could see was her lips. He could smell the chlorine in her hair from the surf place, and he wanted her closer.

  She put her hand on his chest, and her eyes fluttered. “I…truthfully, I’m kind of overwhelmed…I just don’t know if a band is the right fit for me right now. But it’s nice to be asked.”

  He picked her up again, whooping. “Ladies and gentleman, introducing the new star of country music Tiffany Chance.”

  She laughed again, and he put her down. Her face was flushed, and she was grinning. “C’mon, let’s get back to Maddy.”

  After paying the band and getting her guitar packed away, they piled into the truck. Neither of them spoke.

  The no speaking lasted for over fifteen minutes. The radio station was on, and she was singing in her beautiful voice. All sorts of thoughts were going through his head in a montage movie style. There were things that Roman had told him about Brett mixing with things that she’d said about being traditional.

  He thought of his own Catholic upbringing, mostly Easter and Christmas types of things until his mother had passed. He wondered if Tiffany would ever want someone like him because of Sheena or, he corrected, himself. Because of his choices.

  He looked out the window, seeing everything and nothing. It impressed him how beautiful Utah sunsets were with oranges and purples like shades of protection against the cardboard mountain backdrop.

  “Talk to me, Goose,” she whispered and turned off the country station that had been playing some old school tunes.

  But he didn’t know what to say. “Top Gun.” She’d actually quoted one of his favorite movies. Now he knew he was falling in love.

  “My dad loved that movie.”

  He watched the way the side of her lip turned down at the mention of her father.

  “I’m sorry.” He knew it wasn’t enough. Heck, he knew there was never anything right anyone could say when you lost a parent.

  She glanced at him and then back to the road. “It’s okay.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  He looked out the window, not wanting to talk about his father.

  All of this. Her. It unnerved him. It was too soon. He wished he could go talk to his shrink about her because he didn’t trust himself. He hadn’t trusted himself for a long time.

  “Sam?”

  “So are you going to join the band?” He had to distract himself.

  “Ah, no. I mean. I don’t know. Joe said he’s trying to score them an opening spot with this band that’s going on tour soon. I just don’t know if it’s the right time.”

/>   “Why not?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you have a chance to join a band and possibly go on tour. Why wouldn’t you do that?”

  She let out a long breath. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why?” He asked, an edge in his voice.

  “Why are you mad at me?”

  He sighed, realizing he did sound mad. He didn’t know why he felt so invested in this woman. “I’m not mad at you. I just…isn’t this what you wanted? To do your music?”

  “It’s not like I could just go. I mean, my mom, my work.” She hesitated.

  “A shot is a shot,” he said, completely confused about why she wouldn’t want to be part of that.

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s not right.”

  He stared at her, recognizing exactly why she was holding back. She was too in her head. “Tiffany, you’re good, really good. But you have to take chances and you have to push yourself.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long time.

  He couldn’t believe after all they’d gone through tonight and how amazing she’d been that she would turn down the opportunity.

  “You don’t understand,” she said finally.

  “No. I get it,” he spat out the words. “You’re afraid.”

  13

  Reese had Maddy already tucked into her crib when they got back. Then she relayed every detail about what Maddy had done, eaten, and the faces she’d made from the time they’d left until the time she’d gone blissfully to sleep. Sam thought about the fact that her experience with Maddy was quite the contradiction to what his had been the night before.

  Reese stood in the kitchen, getting them both two plates of the previously made spaghetti that Sam was no longer hungry for.

  “So how was the show, sweetie?” she asked Tiffany.

  “Good,” Tiffany said unenthusiastically, her eyes meeting Sam’s for a moment before going to her plate where she picked up her fork and picked at the food.

  Reese frowned and looked suspiciously at Sam. “Why aren’t you two eating?”

  Tiffany shrugged and pushed the food away. “This is Sam’s third dinner.”

  Reese frowned and then pulled both plates away. “Obviously, neither of you are hungry. What’s going on? What was wrong with the show?”

  “Nothing,” Sam said quickly.

  Reese loaded the plates and then turned to him. “Did you like it?”

  Cocking his head to the side, he nodded. “It was one of the best performances I’ve ever heard,” he said honestly, purposely not looking at Tiffany. He hated that everything felt weird now. He didn’t want it to be weird. He desperately wanted it to be like it was earlier. He wanted to recapture how it’d felt when he’d play the guitar with her or when they had surfed and laughed together. How it’d felt to hold her after the performance when he’d lifted her up and she was so happy.

  It all felt different now, and he didn’t know why he cared so much.

  After cleaning up the kitchen, Reese surprised him by giving him a hug and then told Tiffany she would wait for her out in the truck.

  He wiped the counter, not looking at her.

  “Sam, are you okay?”

  “No.” He stopped wiping the counter and stared up at her. Her soft curls fell perfectly around her face. Her blue eyes were pensive.

  “You’re going to make it Tiffany, if you’ll just reach out and take it.” Then he puffed out a laugh because he thought of her last name. “Chance…take a chance.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she blinked the welling moisture away. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she just turned away from him and moved toward the door. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  14

  Sam woke to the loud sound of Maddy crying. He could hear her fine through the walls, but he had the monitor on, and it blared in his ear. Jolting up in bed, he looked at the time and realized that it was four am, and this was the first time Maddy had woken. He flew down the hall to her.

  When he got to the room, she was standing, supporting herself on the bars of the crib. She wore pink jammies, and her binky was on the floor. She was reaching through the crib bars for it. Her red hair was matted and her cheeks were rosy. She immediately reached up for him when he leaned in to pick her up. “Well good morning, Maddy.” He pulled her into his chest.

  Wanting nothing to do with his cuddles, she kicked her legs and spit her binky, little yelps coming from her. “Num, num.”

  He moved swiftly down the hall and stairs. “The hunger making you cranky?” he asked, using the singsong voice again. He went straight to the high chair as she released another wail.

  He got her buckled in and then rushed to the sink and mixed up a quick bottle. “I know. I get cranky when I’m hungry too, sweetie.”

  Half an hour later, Maddy had downed the bottle and was on her second jar of oatmeal.

  His system of feeding Maddy was efficient. He would scoop up a bite of oatmeal for her. Then he would drop to the floor and do five pushups, and he finished by jumping up ‘burpie style.’ He figured it took her a couple of seconds to eat, and he had to get his push ups in anyway. Can’t go soft, Dumont, he thought. In all the months that he’d struggled with anxiety and depression, exercise and training had been the staples in his routine that kept him sane.

  Since he was young, he’d been physical. He’d always enjoyed pushing himself. And after his mother passed and his father progressively went down the road to alcoholism, football had become his constant. By the time he was fifteen, Sam was living with his paternal grandparents.

  He thought of his grandma and felt guilty for not calling her. She’d been devastated at his dad’s funeral. For him, the funeral had been somewhat of a relief. Yes, he felt bad about feeling that way. He’d burned up a lot of hours ‘delving’ into those feelings with the shrink. He’d watched his grandma, the only woman on the earth he loved fiercely, fall apart and sob hysterically as they put his dad into the ground. But the only reaction he’d had to witnessing that was anger—harsh, cold anger. He was angry at his father, and even at his grandparents for giving most of their retirement and savings to enable him. Of course he’d stuck a couple hundred grand back into their accounts to make up for it, but part of him still blamed them for enabling him so much.

  He fed Maddy another bite and dropped and did his last five of fifty pushups. It helped to be physical. He pushed thoughts of the past few weeks out of his brain. He put them in the box in his brain labeled ‘look at never.’ That was right by the box of ‘feelings of abandonment and anger’ at his mother who died on him. He sucked in a cleansing breath. He couldn’t deal with that crap now. He had this beautiful little girl to take care of.

  Maddy must have finally had her fill because she pushed away the next bite.

  “Are you done, baby girl?” He grinned and brushed a hand through her soft hair. It was a kind of soft that he’d never felt before. Taking a clean rag out of a drawer, he wet it and wiped her clean. Then he plucked her out of the high chair, lifting her up above his head. “What should we do until your daddy gets home?”

  Without warning she opened her mouth, and food fell straight at him, splattering all over his face.

  “Ack.” He pulled her into him, maneuvering her to his hip and using the towel to wipe the barf splatter from his face.

  Maddy giggled while she watched him.

  He grinned at those chubby, ruddy cheeks. “You think that’s funny?” He didn’t even recognize his own voice. He hadn’t known it could reach that octave.

  Maddy just giggled again.

  He looked at her, and he was lost.

  He took the rag and covered his face and then pulled it back quickly like he’d seen Tiffany do in the tub the other night. “Boo.”

  At this, she giggled so hard her whole body shook.

  Hearing her delight, he was hooked. They played this game for roughly ten minutes Afterwards, he got her settled in front of her toys on the
floor and then quickly did a much more thorough job of using hot water and the rag to clean himself, the high chair, and the floor. He scoured the cupboards and found the necessary items for a quick protein shake.

  He thought about the text from Roman last night that had said they would probably get discharged from the hospital around ten and be home by ten-thirty. Bizarre, he mused as he scrubbed everything and watched her cooing and ahhing over the toys. It was bizarre how much he could already feel himself attached to Maddy. Thoughts of Roman coming home today fluttered through him. He looked at the clock on the stove. It was barely five in the morning. He realized that he almost didn’t want Roman to come home. He wanted to stay here and take care of Maddy. But that was ridiculous. Silly. He’d never taken care of anybody before this, let alone a baby. He could barely take care of himself.

  Walking over to her, he plunked himself down on the floor, picked up a toy, and made a zooming sound with it.

  Mesmerized by him, she temporarily stopped flailing and cooing. Then she gave him the biggest smile.

  “That’s right,” he said in his newly acquired falsetto voice. “You like that, Maddy, don’t you?” He made more zooming sounds. This process repeated over and over until he saw her bearing down and her cheeks getting red.

  Then he heard a toot, and Maddy smiled again.

  Despite himself, he laughed. “Yeah, that’s a girl. I guess if you eat all that oatmeal, then you need to take care of some business.”

  She pushed down again and smiled.

  He suspected he would have a diaper to change soon.

  Then the smell hit him.

  “Ahh.” He stood and picked her up. “I guess we’ll change you and get you bathed for the day.”

  After bathing and lotioning and diapering, he went to the room he was staying in, and he put her in the center of the bed. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only five-thirty. “Dang, girl, is it nap time already, or what else can we do?”