“Tempest Cassidy,” he exclaims. “What on earth is going on here? What have you done?”
Swallowing, I try to use my arms to scoop up as many cans as I can, hoping it doesn’t look as bad as it is. “I can explain,” I begin. “It was an accident.”
His annoyed expression tells me he’s not interested in my excuses, so I just get straight to the point. “I’m really sorry,” I tell him, still spread out on the floor. “I’ll clean it all up… it’ll be good as new. Promise.”
He huffs out an exasperated sigh, hands on his round waist. “Is this another one of your stunts? I’m in the right mind to call your daddy and let him deal with this.”
“No… no,” I begin, working my way to a kneeling position and starting to restack the few cans I have in my arms, in good faith. “No, please don’t do that… I promise, this was an accident. I was backing out of the aisle… and I… I slipped… actually, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was going for a can of, uh, cream of mushroom… and the next thing I know, everything is crashing down. Are you sure this is display is safe?”
His expression begins to change as my phone begins to ring.
“I’ll send Johnny over to help you,” he mutters, rubbing his bald head.
Looking at the screen of my phone, I see a local number but no identification.
“Not necessary,” I tell him, swiping my thumb across the screen to answer. “I’ll have this cleaned up in a jiffy.”
After another wordless grumble, he walks away and I place the phone to my ear, watching Mr. Henderson retreat down the aisle and breathe a sigh of relief. “Hello?”
“Tempest?”
It’s Cage. Glancing at the screen again, I don’t recognize the number, but it’s local, so maybe he’s at work. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I finally reply, “Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“Piggly Wiggly,” I tell him, looking around at the mess. “Aisle six, to be exact.”
His laugh helps ease the tightness in my chest. And I start to laugh too, because now that I know Mr. Henderson isn’t going to call my daddy… or Sheriff James… I have to admit, this is pretty damn funny.
“What exactly are you cleaning up in a jiffy?”
“Oh, God,” I groan, turning to examine the extent of the work ahead of me. “Well… I sort of knocked over an entire display of Pork N Beans.”
“What the fuck?”
He laughs again and I roll my eyes at this ridiculous predicament.
“Exactly.”
“I was actually calling to see if we’re still on for a session today. I’m just getting ready to leave the Pink Pony, had to swing by and help Floyd with a food delivery. But I could come over and help you, if you want.”
My mouth is hanging open with my typical, knee-jerk response on the tip of my tongue—no, no need… I’m fine… I’m sure you have better things to do. But instead, I tell him, “Sure.”
“Aisle six?”
The smile that spreads across my face makes my cheeks ache, and it helps weaken the lingering hurt and anger from Mindy’s revelation. “Yeah, me and about two-hundred-and-fifty cans of Pork N Beans, you can’t miss us.”
After I hang up, I slowly begin stacking the cans, trying to remember how they looked before everything came tumbling down and just as I’m placing the sixth one onto the bottom of the pile, a wave of emotion hits me.
Me and this pile of cans have something in common.
I might not be starting from the bottom, but I am starting over in so many areas of my life.
Sitting back on my haunches, in the middle of aisle six, I begin to cry… no, not just cry… sob. It’s disturbing, even to myself. So, when Cage shows up about ten minutes later, it’s a relief, because even though I didn’t think I needed help, I do. I can’t do this on my own and I don’t think I’m just talking about the cans.
It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.
Lana’s words come rushing to my mind and it makes me crumble a little, right into a sobbing heap over the pile of cans.
“Hey,” Cage says, kneeling down beside me, his mouth right next to my ear so only I can hear. “You’re fine… better than fine… you’re Tempest Cassidy and you’re one of the strongest people I know, okay?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply, just continues telling me everything I need to hear. “Whatever happened here today… you’re more than that… more than however you feel… and whoever made you feel that way.”
Part of me wonders if he’s somehow creeped into my mind and stolen my thoughts, because how does he know? I haven’t even had a chance to tell him about Mindy and her ginormous revelation. “She’s pregnant,” I whisper, licking tears off my lip. “Like really, really pregnant…”
Cage’s arm wraps around my shoulder and he squeezes, letting me have my moment.
When someone walks by and makes a remark under their breath, I feel him tense and then tell them to keep walking, like only Cage Erickson can… with authority and effectiveness. He shields me until I can get myself under control and get on with it—life, my day, cleaning up these cans.
After a few more minutes, I’m able to dry my cheeks and take a deep breath.
“Let’s get this cleaned up and then we can go back to my place for a session,” he says, his ice-blue eyes darker than usual. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I agree.
Chapter 14
Cage
“What’s been going on with you, man?” my brother asks, huffing. Knowing him, he’s beating a speed bag while talking with me. I swear, he’s never doing just one thing.
Conducting a board meeting while trading stocks on his phone.
Watching a football game while negotiating a deal.
Out on a date while hitting on the chick at the next table over.
You know, you’ve got to keep your options open.
“Just working at the Pink Pony for Hank,” I start. “Living in this great, old building… just started turning the downstairs into a studio—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Viggo cuts me off and I hear his activity die in the background. “You said this was temporary… going to Bumfuck, Tennessee, getting your shit together, getting back. I thought that was the plan.”
Pacing the downstairs, which is quickly becoming my favorite place, I let out a huff. “Look, I don’t know what my plans are anymore.”
“I can’t believe you’re just giving up this easy,” he says, disappointment thick in his tone. “Oz said you were done, but I figured you, of all people, would find a loophole… some way out of this.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I reply, “It’s an injury, Viggo... a career-ending injury… it’s not like I got my wrist slapped for using supplements… or I failed a drug test. Y’all act like I’m just on hiatus. I don’t know how to make it any more clear… it’s over.”
Dead silence is all I get as a reply.
Quiet, uncharacteristic silence.
“Does Dad know this?” he asks and I feel the familiar lead weight that appears every time I think of our dad and the look of disappointment on his face when the doctor gave me my verdict.
Sighing, I take a deep, steadying breath… similar to the ones I’ve been coaching Tempest in lately. Tempest. God. I cannot start thinking about her right now, because there is no way I’m telling Viggo, the Mouth of the South, about Tempest Cassidy. The next thing you know, my mother would be calling, planning a visit.
The thought of her drives an imaginary stake into my chest.
“Yes,” I finally reply. “Of course Dad knows…”
He lets out a defeated breath. “This isn’t good,” he sighs. “This thing we’ve got going… it’s like a machine… me, you, Val, Oz… it takes all of us contributing to make it work.” Now, I feel like I’m one of his employees or minions who’s not quite performing up to snuff. “Without you, things just don’t work as well as they should.”
“Vig,” I start, but stop while I try to wrap my head around al
l of this and try not to lose my cool with him, because what he’s basically saying is that without me fighting, I’m killing the family business, which is a well-known gym in the Dallas area. We thrive off of word-of-mouth and the publicity that fights bring. Without me fighting, we lose a key component of our marketing strategy.
Over the years, starting with our father who was a boxer, we’ve turned the Erickson name into more of a brand. Erickson MMA houses some of the best fighters in the world.
I was their anchorman.
I was what brought people in.
Every time I stepped inside the cage, I was a walking billboard.
Come to Erickson, be a champion.
“Vig,” I start again, “it’s not like I planned on getting injured… I didn’t plan on leaving until I was good and ready. You know what my plan was,” I tell him, reminding him. “We’ve talked about it hundreds of times over the years.”
He sighs. “I know… fight until your forty-five… beat all the greats… your final fight, a KO.”
“I didn’t get a chance to fight half the people I wanted to fight,” I tell him, hoping he realizes I’m just as disappointed as everyone else. This is not how I saw my life going. But here I am—twenty-eight, retired, no college degree, and no clue what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. But I’m starting to see glimpses of a vision, and since I have the luxury of exploring my options, I’m going to take my time and figure it out.
That’s the beauty of Green Valley.
Yeah, it’s a slow town, but in the relaxed atmosphere, I’ve found a different part of myself. I never thought I had the patience for teaching, but my sessions with Tempest are easily the best parts of my week. I count the days between our time together. And yes, some—a lot—of that may be due to my student, but some of it’s not. Some of it is feeling like I’m getting the chance to pass on something I love to someone else, and seeing it enrich their life.
“You know,” Viggo says after a few moments, “Vali has a fight set up… he wants you in the ring. The payout is pretty good… all you’d have to do is show up. Step into the octagon. Walk away with no less than a hundred grand.” He pauses and I begin to get pissed the fuck off. “I’m sure you could use the money… and we could use the publicity—”
“Listen to yourself, Viggo,” I growl. “You want me to walk into a ring, knowing I’ll lose, just so I can get a little cash and the gym can get some publicity? Are you fucking kidding me?” I run a hand down my face and then back up to grip at my hair, which is longer than it’s ever been. “What does that say about us? How the fuck does that help?” I ask, fuming. “We’re bigger than that… better. Integrity, Strength, and Excellence, remember? Huh?”
When he still doesn’t reply, I continue. “Have things changed that much since I’ve been gone? Have you all forgotten who we are and what we stand for?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong.
“We all know you could beat anyone with one arm tied behind your back,” he finally says. “Vali has put a lot into this fight… really went out on a limb with this one and if we don’t find some talent to fill out the ticket, it’ll be a bust. You know how much money that’ll be? Down the fucking drain?”
He asks me this like it’s my problem, and I guess, in a way, it is. We’re family. We’re always in it together, but I really hate that he’s trying to make me feel guilty for something that’s out of my control and something I never asked to be in the middle of in the first place.
Val is always taking risks.
“I can make some calls,” I tell him, thinking of a few people that might be interested, a few favors I can maybe call in.
“Thanks,” Viggo says. “When are you coming home?”
Shaking my head, I look around. “I don’t know, man. I’m just playing it all by ear right now.”
After I hang up with Viggo, I think about calling Vali, but decide to wait until I have a chance to make a few other phone calls first. I’d rather call him when I have an alternative plan for him, rather than to just tell him there’s no fucking chance of me stepping in that ring.
Looking at the clock on the wall, I see it’s almost time for Tempest’s kickboxing lesson, so I put my phone over on the stairs and grab some tape.
Tempest has really taken to the bags. For someone so small, she really makes an impact and has nice control over her movements. Today, I plan on getting her started on one bag while I get in a workout on the other. It’s better if I keep myself occupied while she’s here, because if I don’t, my mind stays in the fucking gutter and I’m constantly having to put myself in place— literally and figuratively.
A few days ago, right after the Pork N Beans incident, I was helping her with the roundhouse kick that landed her in a pile of canned goods when I felt something. It wasn’t my stiff dick. I’m used to that… and used to telling him to forget it. There is no way I’m messing this up… this friendship, something we both need. But that day, there was this intensity flowing between us and I know she felt it too. The way her eyes widened when my hand was on her thigh, even though it wasn’t in a sexual manner, I could see that her mind went there.
I wanted to ask her about it, force the issue, but like I said, I’m not going to ruin what we’ve got going.
Besides, between this upcoming reunion and the impending birth of Asher and Mindy’s baby… as well as her cousin Cole and his wife Anna, who are also expecting, she has a lot on her plate. So, for now, I’ll keep my semi in my pants and my thoughts to myself.
One of these days, I’ll come clean about how I feel about her and I’ll put the ball in her court, but that day is not today.
“Hey.”
Whirling around, I school my expression and give her a warm, friendly smile. “Hey, yourself.”
Chapter 15
Tempest
“So, your mama tells me you’ve been getting acquainted with that scary guy who’s working for Hank,” Anna says quietly, with her hand daintily placed on her basketball-sized tummy as we watch the older ladies of the church mingle. Every once in a while, one of them looks our way, but as of yet, none of them has said a word to me.
Maybe they think my bad juju will rub off on them?
Good. Because I don’t want to talk to them anyway. All they ever want to discuss is my lack of attendance at church and how sad it is that that Asher and I are no longer married.
Fuck that.
Like she can hear my thoughts, Anna cuts her eyes at me. Maybe I said that out loud?
Lord, forgive me for my profanity… actually, if you could cover me for the next two hours, I would appreciate it. I’m barely hanging on here and could really use the help.
Amen.
“He’s not scary,” I tell her, keeping my voice low, because I don’t need any busybodies in my business… or Cage’s. “He’s a friend… a really good one, and his name is Cage.” I knew she’d bring this up, but I’d rather not discuss it in the middle of the church fellowship hall during her baby shower.
“The last thing you need is more gossip,” she says on an exhale, keeping her eyes moving around the room.
“Can we please drop this?” I ask with sugary sweetness and a fake-ass smile, because Sister Anguiano is looking straight at us.
“You know what I mean, Tempest.” She tsks, and I don’t have to see her to know she just rolled her eyes. It’s all in the inflection of her voice. “They’re all gonna think you're some kind of hussy who sleeps around.”
“So, if a woman… me,” I say, pausing for a second while the pastor’s wife walks by. “If a woman is seen being friends with a man, she’s automatically screwing him? That’s so backwards and twisted I can’t even think of a good retort. And don’t worry, Mindy already has a corner on hussy.”
“Tempest Cassidy!”
“Oh, Anna, loosen up!” I hiss. “She is and you know it. She’s been sleeping around with every Tom, Dick, and Harry since we were in high school. Asher isn’t special. He’s just the one who finally knocked her up,�
�� I seethe, still not okay with that piece of information, but I’m coming to terms with it. In the last day or so, I’ve decided they deserve each other and I deserve better. “I hope his dick shrivels up and her boobs sag to her knees.”
“Tempest!” Anna’s shriek draws the attention of every eye in the room, including Mindy’s.
Yeah, she’s here.
Practically every female Green Valley resident between the ages of twenty and seventy is here.
Anna turns her back to the women and whispers, “You can’t say stuff like that in church!” She looks like she’s afraid lightning is fixing to strike.
“Well, I’m also not going to lie—in church or anywhere else. Now, can we focus on something else? Like, the reason we’re here,” I tell her, patting her leg in hopes it will calm her down. The last thing I need is her going into labor. “You’re going to be a mama. Isn’t that exciting?”
I know better than to poke the bear, or a hormonal pregnant lady—verbal or otherwise.
Uh oh. I see tears forming in her eyes, and these aren’t the usual Anna crocodile tears. “What?” I ask nervously, shifting in my seat to face her—blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What did I say? If it’s about cussing in church… I already prayed about that.”
She shakes her head and swallows thickly, turning away. “It’s not fair,” she whispers.
“What?”
“You want a baby,” she says quietly, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “And that… woman,” she says, anger lacing her words, the first I’ve heard from her in a long time. During her pregnancy, she’s tried to keep her emotions as even as possible. The baby feels everything I feel, she says. “She stole your husband… and got pregnant. It’s a sin… all of it.” Anna’s tone is indignant. She’s sorely offended on my behalf. “It’s not right.”
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