It’s like he pierced a dagger through my heart. “If I’m so stupid, you can get your ass off my couch and find your own place to live.” I don’t wait for a response this time because I can feel the tears behind my eyes mere seconds away from pouring down my face. I walk into my bedroom as quickly as I can and shut the door.
I cry quietly into my pillow. I don’t want him to hear how upset I am. I have no idea if he is still out there or if he decided to leave. I’m starting to feel really guilty about telling him to basically get out. Just the way my mom raised me.
I don’t want to leave things like this. There’s no way I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight knowing we’re upset with each other and not having the opportunity to clear the air between us. I was raised to never go to bed angry. For now I decide to get a glass of water from the kitchen to see whether or not he’s still out there.
I tiptoe out of my room. It’s dark, but I can tell he’s asleep on the couch. I head right to the kitchen. If he can go right to sleep after having a fight, so can I. When I open the refrigerator door I notice a plate of food sitting in the middle of the shelf covered in plastic wrap. It looks like baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans. There’s even a new bottle of pinot noir on the counter.
My stomach drops when I realize he must have made dinner for us tonight. There’s no evidence of a mess in the kitchen, but the leftovers speak for themselves. And he bought me a bottle of my favorite wine. So while I spent the day avoiding him so I wouldn’t look too needy, he was fixing us a nice, romantic dinner that I could have enjoyed with him.
I’ve never regretted my choices more than I do right now.
Chapter Twelve
Brogan
I’ve been pretending to be asleep for an hour when I hear the floorboards creak and I can feel that Cate is in the room. My pride won’t let me say her name, though, to get her to stay. Apparently I really misread our situation and I feel like an idiot. I feel bad for making a pass at her when I had been drinking, but I don’t regret it. The alcohol was what finally managed to help me feel uninhibited and take a chance that Cate feels the same way.
The dinner was supposed to be an apology for the drunken make-out session, and then I was planning on doing things the right way. But she never came home. And when I finally heard her voice outside the door only to find her in the arms of another man, I realized what an idiot I had been. After I had to fight the overwhelming desire to punch this guy out to make sure he never touches Cate again, that is.
Maybe it was cocky of me to think she was still pining after me like I was for her. I guess we won’t be able to pick things up where we left them the last time we saw each other all those years ago. So now I find myself thinking about what to do next.
Eventually my mind must have shut off and I fell asleep. Which is a good thing because I have to be at the high school early for our first football practice of the season. I purposefully get up early and leave before Cate wakes up. My heart feels heavy as I close the creaky, old door and rattle the lock a few times before I can get it to turn.
I thought being here with Cate would help me find my place in the world again now that my football career is over. But I am a presumptuous asshole who missed his chance years ago.
It does feel really good to be back on the field again, even though the circumstances have changed. The guys are ready to go, dressed in their new gear. The grass is freshly cut, the lines freshly painted. I love the smell of football in the fall.
Just because this is the first day of practice doesn't mean I'm going easy on them, though. I plan on focusing on conditioning for the majority of practice. I have the guys doing ladder drills, burpees, bear crawls, monkey rolls, and up-downs.
Then we move into a drill consisting of five stations: a shuttle-drill station, a running station, a footwork station, a crouching station, and a wrestling mat. By the time we've finished rotating through this drill, the guys are done for.
My knee is sore by the time I blow the whistle and we come together to finish up for the day. I forgot myself at times and ran more than I should have. My doctor said it would heal again with time and eventually I’d be able to work out again and be as active as I’d like to be. It’ll never be back to normal.
Once I’m back in my SUV, I find myself driving around instead of heading right back to Cate’s place. Before long I pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Bar and Grill and kill the engine. I only hesitate for a minute before I get out of the car and head inside.
It’s quiet inside, but it’s a Monday around three o’clock. There’s an older man behind the bar with his back to me while he watches the news on the television set mounted above the bar. As soon as I sit in one of the stools at the bar, though, he turns around.
“What can I get you?” he says as he pulls out a paper coaster and sets it in front of me on the bar.
“I’ll give the Killian’s a try,” I say, looking at all of the beers on tap.
“Good choice.”
He pours the beer into a clean pint glass and sets it down on the coaster. It’s a vibrant amber-red color with a light, buttery aroma that makes my mouth water. I pick it up immediately and take a long drink, loving how the cold beer erases the heat and exhaustion from my earlier practice.
I’m in my own world trying to sort out all of the thoughts swirling around in my head when I look up and realize the bartender is still standing in front of me, giving me a thoughtful stare.
“Brogan Lockwood?” he asks. He looks almost shy as he says my name, like he doesn’t want to impose on my space but like he’ll really kick himself later if he doesn’t say anything.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say. I reach out my hand in greeting. He shakes it with a big smile.
“I’m Jack, the owner, and I’m a big fan,” he says, “I can’t believe we were lucky enough to snag you as a coach in a place so close to Winterhaven. Do you have family in the area?”
“No family. A friend, though.”
“Well we sure are lucky. Practice started today?”
“It did. We already put in a lot of good work today.”
“Sorry to hear about your knee injury, by the way. That’s the worst damn luck.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’m still trying to get used to it all. I don’t really have a choice in the matter, though, so I’m trying to make the best of the situation.”
“That’s all you can do. Hopefully it isn’t the new team that brought you here to my bar this afternoon.” I can tell he’s teasing, but he doesn’t realize how close he is to the truth.
“No, not the new team. If we’re being honest, it’s a girl.” Jack immediately seems like the kind of guy one can talk to about stuff. And over the course of the last six years of my life, having someone to actually talk to has been seriously lacking. I’m desperate for it.
“Ahh, of course. When isn’t it about a girl, right?”
“Yeah, but for me, it’s never been about a girl before. Or maybe it has always been about this girl but I’ve been oblivious.” I take another sip of my beer and let my feelings tumble out. “I feel like I’ve been playing catch-up the last few weeks but things aren’t working out the way I had hoped. I might be too late. I don’t know.”
He leans over the bar and rests on his forearms all the while sizing me up as he rubs his hands together. It sounds like sandpaper as he alternates massaging the palms of each hand.
“I don’t know your situations, but I do know that if she’s really worth it, you can’t give up. You’ll find a way to make it work. You need to figure out what you need to do. I’m a firm believer that there’s always something that can be done to make things all right again.”
I let his words soak in and nod. Already I’m trying to plan my next move.
“Off the record?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never been a relationship guy. I didn’t have good role models growing up, at least that’s what I tell myself as to why my relationships alw
ays fall apart.”
“Okay, got it.”
“It probably sounds stupid, but the girl I’ve been referring to…well, she’s been in my life forever. We grew up together. I don’t want to fuck things up with her to the point of no return.”
“Sure, so you’d rather be good friends than risk something more and have it not work out.”
“Bingo.” I take another drink of my beer and keep my eyes on Jack. He’s really thinking about my situation and I almost feel choked up over it. I’ve never had a man in my life who gave a damn about my troubles, much less tried to give me some advice and help me fix things.
Before we can continue our conversation, another group of people enters the bar and Jack moves off to take their orders. “Give me a minute,” he says as he walks down the bar.
I continue to drink my beer, probably too quickly, but it tastes too damn good to care. I think about how Catey and I have been close for so long and I know I’ve taken advantage of the fact that she has always been there for me. Even now, after losing touch for so many years, she still took me in and let me sleep on her couch.
And the only way I found to thank her was to make a pass at her when I had too much to drink. Yeah, I had some things fixed around her place, but she probably doesn’t realize I needed to do that for her to make sure she is safe and sound living where she is.
I’m sure she doesn’t realize that the thought of anything ever happening to her makes me lose sleep. The thought of another guy putting his hands on her makes me fume, enough so that I know I would see black and probably lose my shit altogether.
I drain the last of my beer and set the glass back on the bar, reaching in my back pocket for my wallet at the same time. I pull out a twenty-dollar bill and leave it on the bar. Jack is still busy with other customers, but I raise my hand to signal goodbye and say, “Thanks, Jack. See you soon.”
“Have a good one,” he says and returns my wave. “You better come back so we can finish our conversation.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Brogan
September 2003
The sweat is pouring off of my face. Obviously these football helmets are a necessity, but it’s impossible to catch a breeze when you’re wearing the damn thing. Not to mention by the third game of the season it should be cooling down at night by now. Enough of the high seventies, I need it to be cooler.
The game is closer than I thought it would be and I’m dogging it right now. I check the clock on the scoreboard and try to dig deep so I can make it to the end of the game and along the way make some magic happen. I try to make myself ignore the scouts in the stands, but I know they’re there. They start early and try to snag the most promising players.
I’m determined to be on that list.
I tune out the crowd and ignore the cheerleaders as they shout and frolic along the sidelines. I feel every drop of sweat burn a path down my skin before it drops and lands at my feet. All of my focus is on this beast of a kid in front of me. I’ve got his number. Literally, number forty-seven, it’s all I’m focused on. Knocking this guy out of my way, cutting some moves to the inside and getting a sack on pretty boy Harry Johnson.
I don’t actually remember what his first name is, but his last name is Johnson and he has been dropping bombs on us. He’s never had an arm on him before like he does now and it freaking figures it’s a night when I wanted to show these clowns who’s boss.
I anticipate the snap and as soon as I see it go I bull rush number forty-seven and knock him on his ass. I kick in the afterburners to try to get to the quarterback before the ball leaves his hand, before it finds its mark. I feel the rush of adrenaline when I know I’ve got him. His head starts to turn towards me but it’s too late, we’re already falling to the ground.
We celebrate, but I don’t showboat. Nobody wants to recruit a cocky asshole. Especially if you’re already a cocky asshole in high school.
The scene in the locker room is always the best after a tough win. There’s an uplifting celebratory speech to look forward to from coach, a lot of cheering, high-fiving and back-slaps. So by the time it’s over and I’m showered, it’s late and I’m exhausted. I have a walk home ahead of me as well. It isn’t a long walk, but I still wish I could blink and be there, in my bed.
I’ve left the high school and am walking along the sidewalk that leads home when someone starts to rev the engine of a car. As it drives past something comes flying out of the window and lands in front of me on the sidewalk. The guy hanging out of the window yells something obscene about my mom and they keep driving.
I notice the rival high school’s bumper sticker on the back of the car as it drives past and carefully step over the broken egg laying in the middle of the sidewalk. Obviously some of the students that are in town for the game tonight are less than amused at the outcome of the game.
I round the corner and am overcome with a sense of annoyance. The car of guys has pulled over and my first thought is that they’re waiting for me to catch up so they can score a direct hit. I quickly realize, however, that they’re out of the car chasing after a girl.
“Catey,” I yell. My adrenaline spikes and I take off down the sidewalk. Any fatigue that I was feeling from playing an entire football game is gone. I see the guys hurling eggs at her as she tries to run away, but the sickening sound of eggs splatting tells me they’re hitting their target.
There are three guys in front of me and I’m in instant football mode. As I overtake the first guy, I slam into him with my body and send him flying. I wrap my arms around the second guy and tackle him to the ground.
I yell, “Those eggs are going down your fucking throat,” as I chase the last guy down the sidewalk. Catey is on the ground further down the sidewalk, crying.
“It was a joke, man!” the prick yells to me as he drops the eggs in front of him and puts up his hands. I stop running, switch to a purposeful walk and stride right up to the guy and punch him in the face. He hits the sidewalk as blood pours out of his nose and I feel satisfied knowing it might be broken.
“Get in your car and drive away before I call the police and have you arrested,” I say.
I watch them as they get up and walk to the car.
“Run!” I yell at them. It’s pissing me off that they aren’t out of my sight already. In my opinion they don’t feel the urgency that they should to get the hell out of here.
As soon as they pull away I run to Catey on the sidewalk and kneel down next to her. She’s crying with her head in her hands. I can see broken eggshells and gooey egg yolk dripping from her hair and clothes. When she lifts her head I can see that her knees are scraped and bleeding as well as the palms of her hands.
“I fell,” she says as she uses the backs of her hands to wipe her eyes.
“Those fucking assholes!” It’s all I can manage to say. If I would have had the chance to look her over before I told them to take off I would have gone in for round two of a beat down. “Why are you out here by yourself this late at night?” I ask.
“You were excited about the scouts coming and I wanted to be there for you. I waited to congratulate you and walk home with yo, but when it took awhile I decided to start walking home by myself.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I brush the hair off of her face. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.” I put my arms around her and lift her up off of the sidewalk. We walk with our arms around each other back to her house.
I unlock the front door for her and help her inside. All of the lights are off except for a bar of yellow light coming from under Greta’s bedroom door. She puts her index finger to her lips, indicating that I should be quiet and walks to the door.
“Mom? I’m home,” she says. “I’m going to bed, see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, honey,” Greta says. “I hope you had fun.”
We walk into Catey’s bedroom and close the door. “You need to clean out your hands and kne
es. And you might want to get some of the egg out of your hair before you go to bed.” I’m trying to make light of everything because I’ve never been able to handle seeing Catey sad.
“Yeah,” she says, “I think I’ll take a shower to get rid of the egg.”
I take off my shoes and lay down on her bed. “Well I’ll be here when you get done. I can help you bandage your hands when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” she says.
I try to close my eyes and relax when she leaves the room. My heart is still beating so fast I don’t know how I’ll ever go to sleep tonight. I’m not only jacked up from that encounter but I can’t stop myself from picturing what else I would do to those assholes if I ever had the pleasure of running into them again.
When Catey comes back in the room about fifteen minutes later, she’s wearing a towel. I sit up, surprised, and all of a sudden feel like I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“Sorry,” she says, “I was so full of egg and blood that I didn’t want to grab pajamas and get them dirty. Can you turn around for a minute?”
“Sure,” I say. I flip over on her bed so my back is facing her. I feel like my heart is pounding so loudly again that she must be able to hear it. This time it doesn’t feel like adrenaline from the fight anymore, though. There’s a jewelry box on her desk with a mirror in the lid and a tiny ballerina standing straight up.
I can see Catey’s reflection perfectly in the mirror. She drops her towel and I’m staring at her beautiful long legs, shapely ass and strong back. She bends over to pull her panties on and I’m instantly hard. I realize that I’m holding my breath as she raises her arms to pull her T-shirt over her head and I get a glimpse of her round breast and hard, pink nipple.
All of the blood in my body seems to have rushed to my cock and I can’t think straight. When she says, “Okay, you can turn around,” I finally release the breath I’ve been holding. I’m self-conscious about the enormous hard-on that I’m sporting at the moment so I excuse myself.
A Devoted Heart (The Heart's Temptation Series Book 2) Page 6
