False Start: A Football Romance

by Saylor Bliss

  I nod, surprised when the rest of the team yell their agreement.

  “Split screen left on two.”

  “Break.” We all yell and then take our places on the field. For the first time since this shit began, I don’t feel completely alone. I should have known I could count on my team to be there. We are more than just a team. We are brothers brought together by the love of football.

  The ball snaps, and I go long. Tonight is my night. I can feel it. The stars have aligned, and my mojo is flowing. It’s time to wipe the field with these ass wipes. They aren’t going to know what—or who—hit them.

  I go deep, and I see the ball in the air. This corner can't stay with me as I run under the ball, snapping it out of the air with ease. I roll into the end zone, free and clear, and then stand and spike the ball, throwing my hands in the air. Touchdown!!!

  The crowd screams with both joy and outrage all mingled together to fuel my soul. Their cries feed me, lifting me up. I missed this feeling. I needed this. I’m not letting up.

  Defense holds them to a three and out. No score for the ass wipes today. I throw my hand in the air and wave it around, telling the coach to keep feeding me the ball. He nods. I think he knows I need this as much as I do. I’m on fire tonight. I’m channeling every emotion running through me and pushing it out onto the field tonight. I’m faster than I’ve ever been. More accurate, better.

  We run the ball. First play, I crack back down on the linebacker. Howard, our tail backer, breaks it outside for a twelve-yard gain.

  I want the fucking ball.

  I need it.

  Coach calls a Z out pass. I line up wide right. Double coverage. They can't stick me. Balls snaps, and I cut toward the middle and then back out toward the back of the end zone. Bitches can't stick me. I'm three yards behind them as I catch the ball. You can't teach speed.

  I'm out!!!

  Touchdown number two, and we aren’t even six minutes into the game.

  Cody celebrates in the end zone with us. I grab his face mask and look him in the eye. “Keep the balls coming to me, and I will make you fucking famous tonight.”

  “Fuck yeah, man. Let’s do this shit.”

  Again, our defense holds. We are getting the ball back for the third time in the first quarter. Cody is gonna break the teams passing record for yards in a game if he just keeps throwing me the ball.

  Nobody on this field can stick me.

  I line up slot right. The ball’s snapped, and I step back for the screen. Time to show that I'm not all speed! I catch the ball and juke the first defender. I head to the edge and am met by the linebacker. I lower my shoulder and flatten him like a train hitting a bicycle going seventy miles per hour. As I get around the edge, I pick up eleven yards.

  First down.

  The crowd has become my own personal cheering squad. My name is chanted over and over and over.

  It's my night. Nobody can stop me.

  Coach calls a run play next, but we don’t have time for that cheap shit tonight. Go big or go home. We are already up by fourteen in the first quarter.

  “Fuck that, give me the ball,” I tell Cody. “Let’s do this right.”

  He calls fly right and I smile. “See you in the end zone. Get ready to celebrate again, boys.” Ball’s in the air, and I'm already gone.

  Touchdown number three, all in the first quarter. We are unstoppable. Shit, we are untouchable. The team owner wanted me to show and play hard, and by God, I am doing just that, but if he wants this to continue, then I’m going to have a few conditions for him after the game.

  First things first. I want my girl out of the nasty ass jail cell.

  Now.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Amelia

  I’ve settled into a routine the last couple of days since I’ve been here. I wake before the sun comes up and have breakfast and then lie back down for a few hours for rest. Around ten or so, my bladder usually wakes me back up, and this time I choose to stay up and watch a little television with the other ladies.

  I’ve learned a lot about the women here. They are nothing like the women they feature on television. These women are normal people with families at home. Normal human beings who all made a mistake at some point in time. A mistake that they are paying for by being trapped here in this hell hole.

  I feel bad for them. I know that at some point, those steel doors will open and I’ll be allowed to escape my walled prison, but I’ll have to leave each one of them behind. Some of them, like Mrs. Ashley, who everyone calls Momma, I have come to truly care for, and I will miss when I’m out. I’ve promised to keep in touch, even though I can tell she doesn’t believe it.

  The buzzer sounds, and my name is called. For a moment, I just sit there, staring toward the wall until the ladies’ cheering sinks in, and then I find myself being shoved toward the door. Mrs. Ashley walks with me as far as she can, carrying my pallet and pillow that she passes to me when she hugs me bye. I try to hold in the tears when the door closes between us, but they fall anyway. I make a promise to myself to not lose touch with her. No matter what else the future holds, I don’t want to lose the relationship I have built, no matter how brief, with Mrs. Ashley.

  When I step into the brightly lit parking lot, I have to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun. After being locked inside for three days and only having artificial lighting, my eyes are not used to the brilliant rays of the sun. Shapes are just coming into focus when I’m swept off my feet from the side.

  Cal’s strong arms circle my waist, holding me tight and making me feel every bit as loved and cherished as I want and need to feel. I allow it for a minute—okay, maybe two—and then I push away from him and force him to set me back down on the ground.

  “I’m so happy to see your beautiful face,” he says, leaning in to kiss me. I turn my head to the right and look up and him.

  “That makes one of us.”

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong, Amie?”

  “What’s wrong? Are you kidding me right now? I just spent three days in JAIL because of you, Cal. Jail!”

  “I had nothing to do with that. I already told you that.”

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. Take me the hospital, Cal. I need to see Carson. How is he?”

  “I don’t know. They wouldn’t let me in there to see him or give me any information because you had me banned.” Shit, I forgot all about that.

  “So who has been with him? Please don’t tell me he has been all alone this whole time?” I ask as we pull into the hospital and head for the elevator. I can’t believe he hasn’t been with Carson this whole time. I can’t even begin to imagine the way Carson must be feeling right now.

  “No. Of course not. A couple of the guys have been in and out of there to check on him and to keep me up to date,” he says as we exit the elevator and I step into the waiting room full of St. Louis Bucks. The entire team is here. There isn’t a spare seat available. I stop dead in my tracks and gaze into the room of red and black, trying to process everything.

  Coach Morris makes his way to us, pulling me in for a tight hug that has my breath catching in the back of my throat. “I want you to know what a pleasure it has been to be here and have the opportunity to spend time with that fine young gentleman in there. You’ve done one hell of a job raising him.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  “No thanks needed. We are family here. I just hope and pray one of us comes back a match.”

  “I’m sorry?” I ask, clearly misunderstanding.

  “A match for the donor thingy. We were all tested. It would be an honor for any of us to donate to young Carson in there.”

  “You were all tested? For him?” I ask.

  “Well, yeah.”

  The tears that had been threatening to fall make their way down my cheeks now in a waterfall of moisture. I make my way around the room, hugging as many of the ball players as I can on my way to Carson’s room, completely overcome by the selfl
ess generosity of these strangers. It warms my heart and brightens my soul to see that genuine good people still exist in this world and are willing to lend a helping hand to those in need.

  For the first time, I feel like we might have a chance. We just might be able to fight and beat this beast called cancer one more time. When I finally make it to Carson’s door, I’m met by Dr. Hill and another woman, Mrs. Simpson, a social worker with the Department of Human Resources and Child Protective Services.

  “Miss Hart, it’s a pleasure to see you. I was just informing Mrs. Simpson here of Carson’s condition and the course of action.”

  “I see. How is he today?” I say, pushing open the door and walking into the room. It takes me a moment to recognize him underneath the tubes and wires flowing in every direction around him. I don’t know what the hell happened while I was gone, but something did. Something very, very bad.

  I look to Dr. Hill, wanting so badly to question him, but not wanting the bitch Social Service worker to know I have no idea what is going on. Thankfully, Callum walks in and doesn’t waste any time blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind.

  “What the fuck, Doc. What the hell is all this shit?”

  “Mr. Johnson, Carson’s condition has taken a turn for the worse since the last time you saw him. I can assure you, we are still doing everything in our power to care for him, but his body is trying to shut down.”

  “What the fuck do you mean?”

  “The cancer started to progress at a terrifying rate, and we were left with no choice but to put Carson back on chemotherapy. Unfortunately, his body isn’t strong enough to handle the medicine and his appendix burst. Now, we are fighting the infection in his body and hoping that we find a donor as soon as possible.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Callum says what we are both thinking. I want to reach across the room and claw his eyes out right now for taking me away from Carson when he needed me the most, even if he didn’t do it directly. It was still his fault. It was someone he allowed in his life and in mine.

  “Miss Hart, I know this is a bad time, but I have a few things I need to go over with you.” I had almost forgotten the social worker was still here. She has been so quiet in the background, watching, observing.

  “Can we do it here, please?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be back around in a little while to check on Carson, but don’t hesitate to have the nurses call me if you need me,” Dr. Hill states as he leaves the room.

  “Thank you,” I call to him on his way out the door and then turn to Mrs. Simpson. I can’t believe DHR is in our lives again. We haven’t seen or heard from them since my mother up and left five years ago. They did an investigation then and made sure my home was safe for him and then eventually closed the case. It was the worst feeling in the world, though, to know I had an open DHR case and that any moment, they could sweep in and take Carson away. I hated living in that fear.

  “First things first, I need you both to take a drug test. Are you comfortable doing that here?”

  “Sure,” We both reply at the same time. I have nothing to hide, and I hope like hell he doesn’t either.

  “Okay, Amelia, if you will take this into the restroom and bring it back to me when you’re finished, then Callum can do the same.”

  I take the clear plastic cup from her and walk into the bathroom, tearing the sterile sticker off as I go. It takes me a little while to get the cup filled because I can’t quite get comfortable and reach between my legs, but I manage, and after washing my hands, I take my cup back out to her and let Cal take my place in the bathroom.

  I ease down on the edge of Carson’s bed, careful to not wake him up, and wait for Cal. I really just want to lay down beside him and sleep for a month or two, but I know that isn’t possible. The pain in my side flares up again, and I have to stand back up to relieve it. It seems the only time it doesn’t hurt is if I’m standing and walking, but then my feet kill me.

  “Having contractions already?” Mrs. Simpson asks.

  “Huh?”

  “Your side . . . is it hurting? You’re probably having contractions.”

  “Oh, no. Just back pain from sleeping wrong.” I can’t be having contractions. Contractions hurt a lot worse than this simple itch in my side.

  “Have you considered a cord bank? For stem cells? I’ve heard that there is usually a high match rate with siblings.”

  “Do what? Cord bank?”

  “Yes. They would take the umbilical cord and use the stem cells in it for Carson.”

  “Oh my God, they can do that?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  Callum walks out of the bathroom at the butt end of our conversation, and I am practically jumping up and down with joy. I can’t wait to send this woman out the door and do some research. I feel like I have just won the lottery.

  She takes Cal’s cup, and after looking at the results, sets it down beside mine.

  “I don’t see any point in dragging this out. It is obvious to me that you love Carson very much and want what is best for him. I have to keep this case open for thirty days, but I highly doubt I’ll be seeing either of you again in the future.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. Keep up the good work, and good luck with everything.”

  “Thanks.”

  I follow her to the door, and after closing it behind her, I lean against it and just breathe. My life has taken such a twisted path from the course I had planned for it in the last couple of weeks, and I don’t know how to get it back on track or if it’s even possible. I have so many unanswered questions and not nearly enough time to get the answers I need.

  Callum pulls me against his chest, and I go willingly. As much as I don’t want to be in his arms right this second, I need him. I think a part of me will always need him. I just have to find the strength to push away.

  “Just let me love you, Amie.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Callum

  I hate that she keeps pushing me away.

  She needs me.

  Now more than ever.

  If only she would just believe me when I tell her I had nothing to do with Griffin and the drugs. I had no idea he was doing any of that. I should have. I lived with him for six months and spent almost every day with him that I wasn’t with the team, but honest to God, I had no fucking clue.

  I called Coach Morris and Mr. Goins and have them meeting me downtown in a last-ditch effort to see what I can do about getting Griffin out, and then hopefully, he can tell her I had no clue about any of this. It’s a pathetic attempt, but I have to try everything I can.

  I’ve always hated this place. It’s too hot, and the dull beige of the walls make me almost fall into madness. The sharp click of the door opening brings me out of my train of thought, only to look up into the eyes of the last person I want to see. Judge Simon "Stone" Jackson.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Coach and Mr. Goins aren’t even here yet, and I damn sure don’t want to meet with him alone.

  “What is it that you needed to see me about, Mr. Johnson?”

  Thankfully, my cavalry arrives at that moment, rushing in the closing door. Mr. Goins shakes Judge Jackson’s hand in greeting as I explain why we are here.

  “Yes, Stone, I need to see what has to be done to get Griffin Hart released.”

  He shakes his head. “Come with me,” he says. As I step into his chambers, I can already sense this isn't going to go well.

  “First of all, I'm glad to say that I haven't seen much of you lately.” His statement is directed at Coach Morris.

  “Yeah, I've been trying to keep my team straight.”

  Judge nods, understanding. “However, I'm sorry, young man, but the charges against Mr. Martin are much too serious for me to just let him leave. Court is scheduled for him on the third. One week from today. Then, and only then, will he be able to be bonded out. That is, if nothing else comes to light.<
br />
  “Yes sir, I understand, but I need to talk to him. Is that possible?”

  “What exactly are you trying to do, Son?”

  “Well my girlfr— umm, the mother of my child was also arrested, and I know for a fact that she has nothing to do with what Griff has been charged with.”

  He clasps his hands together, resting his chin on them. “Well, Son, I may be able to help with her, but Griffin is a no go.”

  I sigh and realize this is a lost cause. At least he will help with Amelia.

  When we leave the Judge’s chambers, we are bombarded with flashing cameras coming from every angle. I don’t know how the hell they caught wind of the story, but like mice searching for cheese, they sniffed it out.

  “Mr. Johnson, can we get a comment?

  “Breezy, is it true that you’re part of a national drug ring?”

  “Cal, Callum, Cal?”

  We rush out the side door and into a waiting car. I can’t believe how many people have swarmed the courthouse in such a short time. I mean, we have only been in the judge’s chambers for ten minutes.

  “I need to get back to the hospital. I hope like hell these assholes aren’t there already.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Amelia

  I lean down to kiss Carson’s sweat-soaked forehead, and there is a painful clenching in my stomach. I ignore it and continue to whisper in his ear, hoping he'll open his eyes. It doesn't even occur to me at first, but with each gripping pain, the thought that maybe . . . just maybe . . . things are happening early. I shake it off and grasp his fragile little hand in mine, kissing it softly.

  I turn on the TV, but there is nothing on. Then it gets worse. Way worse. The clenching in my stomach feels like a python is wrapped around my gut, tightening. I reach for the nurse’s call button, only to be brought to my knees.

  The nurse comes in and helps me stand as each of the contractions grows in strength. “Amelia? Breathe. Remember the Lamaze?”

  “No,” I growl as I feel a gush.