by Aja Cole
“Can we really blame him when he comes from a family who could write the book on healthy dynamics?” Tara and I clink mugs, while Wes looks on annoyed.
“It’s no wonder you two didn’t end up together since I’m such an outsider.” He pouts, crossing his arms.
“Aw baby, the only thing saving you is Hawk’s family probably wouldn’t want Ludacris playing at the wedding and yours will.” She peers at him over the top of her mug and I can’t contain my laughter because he looks so offended.
“So it’s because I’m black?” He huffs.
“Black love lives, baby.” She winks at me, and I shake my head at her silliness.
“I don’t know what I see in her.” He deadpans, running a hand over his low-cut. “Treacherous fiancees aside, we’re getting the pre-wedding party details down, so clear your schedule. We’re thinking a week at the beach house or our place in Aspen with friends.”
“Sounds good.” Mickey never sent anything, so I guess she decided against whatever she was typing.
That’s never a good sign. I’m 31 years old and I’m watching a woman’s text bubbles.
Pathetic.
“Call her,” Tara says, nudging my knee with her socked foot. “You’re the king of transparency. Don’t stop that now.”
“I will.” I stand, picking up my tennis bag and moving to the doors to the house. “For now though, I want to give her a little space. I’ve been pursuing her so much, I didn’t stop to see if she was pursuing me back.”
“Good luck, man. Women are crazy.” I smile when I hear Wes’s grunt and know Tara must have punched him in the arm. “Crazy amazing, I mean.”
“See you next week, Hawk!” Tara trills and I close the door behind me, giving a short wave.
That’s what I want one day. That type of ease and comfort with someone. It’s early, but I feel like I want that person to be Mickey.
My grandfather used to say that when you know, you know. I’ve heard the sentiment echoed many times over the years.
I’m just not sure if she knows, and it’s not much of a relationship if it’s all in my head and one-sided.
I know she’s attracted to me, but that’s only one component of a healthy relationship. We can have sex all day, but what happens when we can’t anymore? Will we still enjoy being in each other’s company? Will she be able to let down her walls even when she’s not in my arms?
Part of me feels like I might be rushing it, and maybe that’s why the situation is so precarious.
Honestly, I’m not sure how to slow down or even if I want to. It seems like if I slow things down too much, she’ll slip away.
Maybe into someone else’s arms.
Bzzzzzzzz
I unlock my phone and view the text after I’ve put my bag in the backseat.
Can you meet me @ Finley Track? Dress comfortably.
15
Mickey
I send the text before I can think twice about it, and immediately shove my phone in my purse.
I extended an olive branch this time.
This is good. This is a good thing. I am being very adult right now and meeting Hawk halfway.
I think.
After Liam left last night, I decided three things.
One, Hawk is an amazing man and I’d be a colossal idiot to keep my head up my ass and keep stringing him along.
Two, I have to be honest with myself about who I am and what I want, otherwise, nothing good can come of anything.
I have to think about what I need, separate from what anyone else thinks or how anyone else sees me.
I imagine it’ll be easier said than done.
I’m not without any extra demons.
Three…Liam Daniels feels a lot more than he wants everyone to know. I’ve met some people who truly couldn’t seem to process more than superficial emotions over the years.
He isn’t one of them.
He’s running from just as much as I am, and I want to know what. I’ve become that cliche woman that wants to see what’s beneath the surface of a seemingly simple man.
I like how I feel around him.
I like how I feel around Hawk too but in a different way.
Hawk makes me feel…a little invincible. He’s supportive, patient…and I think if I were to have a pity party, he’d stroke my hair and tell me how much he believes in me.
Liam would probably snort and tell me to get off my ass and stop bullshitting. He seems blunter, and I like his candid humor. I feel just at ease with him as I do with Hawk.
I think there’s value in both. The biggest distinction is Liam only wants a casual relationship, and Hawk wants more.
That alone should mean I go for the long-term option, but somehow it doesn’t feel that simple.
So, I’m not choosing.
Not yet, at least. But, I am going to take a step in a direction instead of wavering.
I didn’t say I had it all figured out.
Where are you?
I text back and nudge Keyra, who’s talking to my dad.
“Listen up, I invited a friend and I don’t want you and the natives making a big deal about it.”
She widens her eyes mock-innocently. “Who, me? The ones you really need to worry about are the moms.”
I look down the row at my mom and their mom Camille talking animatedly about something. Probably planning Keyra’s baby shower even though it’s months away.
Dane and Harlan come back from the concessions with food in hand and move past me for their seats. “I brought that extra shirt, Mickey.”
“Wow, you told him you were inviting someone before me?” Kaija turns around, nosy as always as Harlan sits next to her. “Is it cocky elevator man or ugh.” She mocks my initial description for Hawk.
“Someone said a man?” Dad pokes his head around Keyra and I start to wonder why I thought this was a good place to start with the olive-branching.
I see him moving up the bleacher stairs, scanning the seats and I stand so he can see me. He’s wearing seafoam green shorts and a white linen button down.
He looks like a snack.
I move towards the end of the row so our first words aren’t said with my family listening in.
“Hey.” I shade my eyes and tilt my head up. He takes off his shades, grey eyes soft but hesitant.
“I was surprised you reached out to me first this time.”
“We need to talk about a few things, but…I’m doing this thing where I try not to take good people for granted.”
“Is that right?” His lips curve.
“Yep. So, I’m showing my appreciation by subjecting you to my wonderful family.” I hook an arm through his and lead him back down the row.
“You’re not elevator man, so you must be ugh,” Kaija says innocently, and I widen my eyes. I’m going to strangle her.
“Ugh?” Hawk looks down at me and I shake my head.
“Don’t pay her any attention.”
“That was how she described you to us. She said you were ugh, so we knew she thought you were hot as hell and it was annoying her.” Keyra chimes in, sticking out a hand. “I’m Keyra, the resident pregnant sister. The other is Kaija.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I wasn’t expecting to meet family today.” He shakes her hand, and everyone does the rounds. Almost the entire clan is here.
Dane, Harlan, Keyra, Kaija, Dad, Camille, Mom, and Harlan’s little brother Nico and his boyfriend Ethan.
The only ones missing are Harlan’s mom Michelle (she’s visiting friends in Boston), Dane’s daughter Addison, and the other hockey bros.
Jasmine’s blood family isn’t here, but I think we more than enough make up for it.
“You didn’t tell us he has such a charming accent, Mickey.” My mom shakes his hand with a giggle and Dad looks at her with raised brows.
“Alright Sina, I think you’ve held the man’s hand long enough.” We all laugh as she flushes a little and rolls her eyes.
“Oh, here’s your shi
rt man.” Dane passes Hawk a bright pink shirt with a picture of Jasmine in mid-hurdle on it, and Jazz’s Family on the back of it. We’re all wearing them, and Jasmine acts like she’s embarrassed every time but I know it means a lot to her.
We sit and I ignore the looks my mom is throwing our way.
“Is it proper to take this shirt off and put this one on?” He murmurs to me. “I don’t want your dad to think I’m trying to entice you or something.”
“You’re talking about taking clothes off and you think you won’t be enticing me?” I slide on my shades, smiling.
“I guess it’s now or never.” He unbuttons the white linen and I watch him from the corner of my eye, glad my eyes are partially hidden by the dark lenses. Never let it be said that this man doesn’t cover all his bases.
He’s as hard-bodied as he is persistent.
“You bite your lip any harder and it’s going to come off.” Dane pops a chip into his mouth and speaks low, nudging me with his shoulder. I nudge him back as Hawk pulls on the t-shirt and looks at me as he folds his original shirt.
“All good?” I can’t get enough of the lilt in his deep voice. Makes me want to listen to him all day.
“Great,” I say quietly as the teams set up and the announcers start. We all cheer when they call the roster and say Jasmine’s name.
For the next few hours, we watch high school track and talk a little bit here and there. I learn he’d wanted to play sports, but he had a hard time putting on any real weight or muscle until senior year. I tell him about me doing drama in high school and going through a rebellious phase. I learn that he has an older brother back in Texas who visits him and Leslie regularly.
We don’t talk about Liam.
At one point, he grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers, resting them on his thigh. I stroke his hand with my thumb and wonder if I can just be happy with this feeling. With just him.
I try not to think about the possibility that I can’t.
16
Liam
“You know you’re not meant to be on a network, Liam. You belong on the field.” Thomas Saunders, head coach for the Giants and my former coach, sits back in the chair at his home office. “Jones is just a placeholder until you decide to come back, and we all know it.”
“Nobody gave me that memo.” I cross my arms, shaking my head. “You know why I left, Tom.”
“I know, I know, Liam and I want to assure you that measures have been put in place so that doesn’t happen again.”
“That’s funny, I haven’t heard news of an offensive line coach going on trial for sexual assault.” I meet his tired eyes cooly, linking my fingers across my abdomen.
“There’s red tape and contracts, Liam. You know that. And I’ve been working on quietly getting things together so this can happen as efficiently as possible.”
“Well, when that happens - you know where I’ll be.” I stand, heading for the door but deciding there’s one more thing that needs to be said. “I’ve always respected you, Tom. Do the right thing here.”
He nods his head once to show he understands, and I leave, high-fiving his daughter Gianna where she’s sitting on the stairs near his office.
“Hey, big-shot.” His wife Diane leans on the door frame of the kitchen, dark hair in a messy bun and wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Go easy on him, alright? This isn’t any easier for him.”
“I know.” I glance at Gianna, who’s coloring happily. I lower my voice. “But…I have to keep pushing on it. I made a promise.”
“I know. He’s dealing with a lot, but it doesn’t mean he cares any less than you do.”
“How’d he manage to snag you to deal with his bullies again?”
“You let someone in, and you might find it’s a lot easier than you think.”
“That’s my cue to go,” I grumble, patting my sweatpants for my keys.
“Here, take a plate with you.” She goes back into the kitchen and comes out shortly with a plate all wrapped up in foil.
“You didn’t put that together in a few seconds.” I squint as I take the plate from her.
“Nope.” She gestures for me to lean down, and I do, accepting a fond kiss on the cheek. “Now get you a woman so you can eat more than takeout.” She pats my cheek lightly and shoos me away.
“Maybe one day. Far away.” I think of Mickey’s shrimp scampi and sheet masks. It was surprisingly fun.
I haven’t heard from her in a few days. Guess she decided to go with commitment.
I tell myself it’s not disappointment I feel. Or it’s not disappointment over her specifically.
I’m disappointed that I have to open up the options again, that’s all.
But that’s what weddings are for. There’s bound to be a hot bridesmaid or two, or some guests.
I don’t need Michaela Banks.
There are plenty more women like her out there, and I’m not going to get hung up over one.
“Talk to me, bro.” I put my phone on speaker, and rifle through my suitcase, smelling a pair of socks and rearing back.
Whew. Definitely goes to the laundry.
I’m staying at a friend’s place, housesitting technically even though it’s not like there are any plants to water or animals to feed.
I sold my place in New York before I left. I didn’t want anything to do with it.
“What’s your schedule looking like for next week?”
“I’m only here for your wedding, so it’s pretty wide-open.”
“Your passport up to date?”
“Yeah…” I trail off, finding the boxers I was looking for.
“Good, you know Tara is over the top and we’ve decided on Switzerland for the week. Games, alcohol, skiing - normal bachelor party shit.”
“You chose it, didn’t you.” I scoff. “Tara is nowhere near as bougie as you are.”
“I resent that word.” Wesley laughs. “And hell yeah, I did. If it was up to her, she’d have me hiking somewhere. Or even worse…camping.” He says it like the word leaves a bad taste in his mouth and I can just imagine his face screwed up in disgust.
“A little dirt won’t kill you.”
“Famous last words.” I hear someone in the background and rustling before he comes back to the phone. “I’ll text you the flight details. We’re taking Bianca’s jet.”
It still astounds me that those words can come off anyone’s lips. I’m not struggling for money by any means, but I’m still the boy from a lower-middle-class family. We had a simple life and simple needs.
Mostly because it was all about my dad’s needs. My mom just folded into whatever he wanted.
“Cool, man. See you then.”
“Oh, you can bring someone if you want. There’s plenty of room.” With that, he clicks off, and I stare at my phone for a second.
It’s been a week now since I saw Mickey.
Despite how easy it usually is for me to forget one woman and move on, I can’t seem to shake her from my mind yet.
I’m banking on the problem being that I got one taste of her and nothing more.
Usually, it’s been all or nothing.
It wouldn’t hurt to just check in, see where her mind is at. I mean, it’s not like I’m staying in New York, so I can afford a little bit more leeway.
Just until I head back down South.
I sit on the edge of the bed and scroll through my contacts until I reach her name, pressing and waiting for the call to connect.
The timer starts on the phone and it stops ringing, even though I don’t hear a voice, and I figure she’s waiting to see what I’ll say.
I’d hate to disappoint.
“I hope your silence has been because you’re thinking long and hard about fucking me.”
I wince a little because the words seem a little too flippant now, too crass after that night.
Then I scowl because there’s no way I’m changing how I phrase shit over a woman.
She can take me just like this, or she
can keep it moving.
17
Hawk
“I hope your silence has been because you’re thinking long and hard about fucking me.”
The voice over the line puts lead in my stomach, and my hands clench around the phone.
I look over the counter at Mickey, who’s frozen at the sink where she was washing spinach.
She’s making me dinner tonight.
She asked who was calling and I told her the number didn’t have a name for it. She told me to answer it and put it on speaker, and that’s exactly what I did.
I leave the phone on the bar and walk away, heading to my office because I don’t know what else to do.
I close the door and walk around to my chair, sitting in it and pulling open the bottom drawer where I stash my cognac for particularly long work nights. I splash a large portion into a glass and drink it, resisting the urge to slam it down on the desk.
I thought we were getting somewhere, finally. It wasn’t just me making moves, she was too. Not one mention of Liam or anything else, so I figured it wasn’t a thing.
Guess I was wrong.
Once again, I was trying to give her time. I didn’t want to push her to commit to something because she’d just started to give more.
But damn, it hurts. It might be stupid to have expectations because for all intents and purposes, she’s a single woman…but I guess I did.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I’ve finished my cognac. It feels like it might be a cigar kind of night.
I take out the box of Cohiba Siglo VI and set it on the wood, flipping it open. I’m pulling the drawer open for my bullet cutter and lighter when there’s a light knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Mickey enters and closes the door behind her, leaning against it.
I put the lighter down and skirt my eyes away from her, because even with regret all over her face, she’s the most appealing woman I’ve ever seen.
I expect her to tell me I don’t have a right to be angry, that it’s my fault I got wrapped up prematurely like some love-sick idiot, that she’s allowed to make decisions about her life without thinking about me.
