Chapter 27
Red Zone
Tyler put his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. The dim-witted, gorgeous blonde model glued to his side posed for a photographer and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. All the while, she kept her face turned toward the camera. Once the photographer moved away to other celebrities, the brilliant smile plastered on her face turned upside down into an ugly scowl.
Tyler raised an eyebrow at her. She pouted and tapped one toe on the marble floor of whatever Hollywood mansion they happened to be partying in that night. He was way too sober to deal with this brainless twit. He regretted agreeing to escort the silicone babe, but his agent pushed until he’d conceded.
“I’m bored. Let’s move on.” She stuck out her lower lip, which had so much botox pumped into it that it looked like a landing pad.
“Be my guest.” Tyler couldn’t wait to ditch her, the sooner the better.
“Be your guest?”
“Yeah, I’ve had enough. I’m flying home. Tonight.” He added for emphasis. He shook her off his arm and strode toward the door. She ran after him and yanked him around.
“You can’t walk out on me like this. I’m somebody, and I need an escort for the evening even if you are a dumb jock.”
“Well, this dumb jock doesn’t give a shit if you’re the fu—effing Princess of Wales.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you noticed.” He tipped an invisible hat. Tyler headed toward the door only to stop dead at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Ty. How are you?”
Tyler turned around slowly. “I’m good, Cass. And you?” He waited for the old feelings of desire and raw hunger to come flooding back to him. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened.
“I’ve never been happier. This is my husband, Sam.”
The two men shook hands. Tyler felt not even a twinge of jealousy.
“Congratulations, I’m truly glad for you.” He meant every word. He smiled at Cass, a genuine smile. She looked good, actually happy, as she clutched her husband’s arm. The man gazed down at her like a man in love. Cass returned her husband’s look, devotion shone in her eyes. She’d never looked at Tyler like that. They’d either been fighting or making up, but never anything in between.
Stepping forward, Cass hugged Tyler, and he hugged her back. Her familiar scent tugged at his heartstrings, but more melancholy than regret.
“Well, I just wanted to say hi when I saw you across the room. Take care.” An awkward silence set in, and Tyler took the hint.
“Good to see you, Cass.” He escaped out the door and signaled for his ride. He settled into the limo and stared out the window, digesting it all.
When he saw Cass and her husband together the only thing he felt was envy. Not envy because he wanted Cass, but envy because he wanted Lavender to look at him like Cass looked at her husband. He wanted Vinnie on his arm as they walked through a black-tie affair, making it clear to everyone they were a couple. He wanted it all, but she obviously didn’t feel the same, at least not enough to take a chance on a reformed asshole or sacrifice her relationship with her grandmother.
For the last two months, Tyler had dived into football, the first one at the practice facility in the morning and the last one to leave at night. The tension with Murphy didn’t subside; if anything it worsened, dividing the team even further.
He didn’t have his game back, couldn’t get in the zone but he improved a little bit every day. That’s all a guy could expect. Tyler wasn’t giving up. It’d take some work to win back his old confidence and the team’s respect and trust.
In his spare time, he volunteered with a couple of veterans’ organizations, visiting VA hospitals and nursing homes, not to mention working with young cancer patients. He played cards with a group of veterans once a week, and they loved to raz him about anything and everything. The kids at the children’s hospital lit up when he walked in the room, reading to them or just hanging out playing video games. He felt good about himself for the first time in a long time.
He rarely had more than one drink a night, left the parties early and alone. They weren’t part of his life anymore. He didn’t get any satisfaction from superficial crap. He’d cut way back on his spending, invested his Super Bowl bonus instead of blowing it, and sold a couple vacation houses to help fund the mansion rehab. All in all, his bank account started its slow recovery from anemic to financially secure.
Tonight he’d fly back to Seattle and his fu—frigging cat. Hell, he’d even managed to confine his use of the F-word to special occasions.
Either time would heal his wounds—and so far that wasn’t working for him—or make Lavender’s heart grow fonder, fond enough she’d hunt him down.
And if she didn’t hunt him down, he’d know the truth behind her feelings. Proud men didn’t beg. If he had one thing left, it happened to be his pride.
* * * * *
For two months, Lavender denied everything. She denied missing Tyler. She denied her grandmother may not have been straight with her about her father. And she denied that she wanted to know the truth.
She immersed herself in her work with her seniors and enrolled in a correspondence course in the gerontology field. Eventually she’d get a degree.
A summer storm hit her little house forcing her inside. Across the pasture, the workmen hurried in and out of the old mansion, carrying tools and supplies. She’d love to see the inside, but she kept her distance.
The envelope she’d stashed under the couch two months ago beckoned to her, Lavender hesitated. In this case, ignorance might be bliss—or not.
Setting her jaw, she got down on her knees and rummaged under the couch. She pulled out the over-stuffed envelope and shook the dust bunnies off it. Housekeeping had never been her strong suit. Ripping open the envelope, Lavender poured the contents onto the coffee table and began to rifle through them.
Unopened letters and cards addressed to Lavender from her father were scattered across the old coffee table’s marred surface. Return to sender was scrawled across each one in her grandmother’s handwriting. A decade of birthday and Christmas cards Lavender had never received. The cold blade of betrayal sliced through her. She felt physically ill, like she’d come down with the flu or some kind of bug. Yeah, the betrayal bug. Clutching her stomach, she stumbled to a chair and sat down with a thud.
Her grandmother led her to believe her father didn’t care, that he’d abandoned her, in order to keep her granddaughter under control and her father out of her life. The selfishness of it overwhelmed her.
Her hands shook as she picked up another piece of paper, an accounting of the child support her father paid over the years. Another of her grandmother’s lies shattered by cold, hard proof.
The deed on the property came next. Another lie unveiled.
An opened envelope addressed to her father in her grandmother’s handwriting caught her attention. The postmark indicated a date just before her high school graduation. She pulled out the one-page letter and read it.
Lavender asked me to write to you. Please do not contact her. She wishes no further contact with you in any way, shape, or form. She does not consider you her father. Please do not cause our family any further pain with your selfish actions. Leave us alone. Doris.
Icy cold ran through her. A tear slipped down her cheek and onto the letter, blurring a few words. Lavender crumpled the letter in her fist. It slid from her fingers to the floor. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth.
She’d sat on that stage at graduation and watched for her father, growing more and more depressed as each moment passed.
Selfish? Her grandmother called her father selfish for attempting to contact her? She’d swallowed her grandmother’s lies. All these years, she’d been denied a relationship with her father and brother because her grandmother couldn’t let go of her obsessive hatred of her former son-in-law. Lavender had gone along, because she’d feared Doris would disown her, like s
he’d done Andy.
Doris had lied about everything.
Lavender stared at the proof littering the top of the table. She’d patterned her life according to her grandmother’s wishes. Her grandmother forbade her to have animals in the house so she’d lived a lonely life in this house. She’d kept the peace by not asking questions, by going with the flow, by letting her grandmother have her way, by losing a part of herself. She’d even let her grandmother dictate whom she should love.
Now it was time to live her life, not her grandmother’s version of it, and damn the consequences.
* * * * *
Lavender paced the floor and fretted, twisting her ring harder than ever. One thing at a time. First her grandmother. Then her father. Then Tyler?
Tyler had been right; she needed to get her personal life in order before she’d be able to have a successful relationship with him.
Doris swept into the room, barking orders at Lavender. Larry slinked along behind her. “The garden is full of weeds. The lawn needs mowing. This house is a mess.”
Tight lipped, Lavender stood as tall as a short person could and approached her grandmother, the crumpled letter in one hand. Without a word, she gave it to Doris. Doris glanced at it. Her face turned white as she recognized the contents.
“Lavender, I can explain. I did this for your own good.” Doris reached out for her granddaughter, but Lavender backed away. She saw her grandmother’s actions as they really were, just another way to manipulate her.
“No, Gram. You did it for you. Not me.” She twisted her ring harder, ignoring the ache in her finger and her heart.
“Honey, everything I do has been for you. I’ve sacrificed everything for you.” Doris’s words rang false, draining her grandmother’s power to control.
“Does that include hiding this stuff from me and collecting rent on a property you don’t own?” Lavender pointed at the various cards and letters littering the table.
Doris blanched and went on the defensive. “You’ve been talking to your father.”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m going to.” She stared her grandmother in the eyes. She’d taken control of her life and was standing up to her grandmother. As hard as it was, she felt empowered.
“You wouldn’t betray me like that. I’ve always been there for you.” Doris’s cold voice contained a warning, but Lavender had prepared for the worst.
“It’s not a matter of betrayal, Gram. If you won’t support me, at least tolerate my desire to have a relationship with my father. Be happy for me. Don’t make me choose. I want you both in my life. I wish you’d see it that way.” Lavender’s voice broke, but she held to her convictions.
“I don’t see it that way. Not at all. You’ve disappointed me and broken my heart.” Turning on her heel, Doris grabbed Larry’s arm. “We’re through with that ungrateful brat.”
Casting an apologetic glance over his shoulder, Larry followed Doris out the door. Her grandmother made her choice and Lavender would make hers. She didn’t cry. She didn’t break down. She found an inner strength she didn’t know she had and made a phone call. One she should’ve made years ago.
Chapter 28
Final Seconds
Tyler stood next to his locker. He listened to the sounds of men getting ready for the third pre-season game. The veterans razzed the rookies. Cleats clattered on the floor. Familiar smells filled his nostrils, and a little tendril of excitement ignited his soul.
He couldn’t kid himself. So far training camp was tough. The first two pre-season games even tougher. For a few weeks, the press dogged his every step, resurrecting the rumors of a fictional DUI and his time in rehab. No charges were filed for the lip he’d given the officer after ramming his car. His attorney insisted he was off the hook. The rehab rumors might be tougher to overcome, but he’d cleaned up his act, and his improved attitude spoke volumes.
Tyler didn’t miraculously get his game back overnight, but he was on the right path. Maybe HughJack couldn’t see it. Maybe Murphy still questioned his dedication and his fire. Maybe the team still treated him with guarded respect.
Tyler would battle his way back and push aside the doubts. He’d learn to relax, let things happen, not force them. He’d find the zone again, that space where the best athletes went in their heads, time slowed down, and every move became crystal clear.
Tyler strapped on his pads and stared at two small photos taped to his locker: his father in his pilot’s uniform stood next to his helicopter and Ryan, in healthier days, holding a football.
At that moment he knew.
You are proud of me, aren’t you, Dad? Ry?
Yeah, they were and so were Uncle Art and all the other Harrises whose blood ran through his veins and all the Harrises yet to come. Yeah, they’d grow up loving Twin Cedars and preserving it for the next generation and so would he.
Tyler had refocused on the game, at peace with himself and his direction. Training camp didn’t tell him much. Some of his passes reflected the quarterback he once was, others not so much. Regardless, he’d resurrect his old killer instincts and relentless drive to succeed or die trying. He’d had some great practices, taken no prisoners, and forced the Jacks’ defense to do their job, especially Murphy. The old guy huffed like a rusty industrial fan as he chased Tyler around the practice field trying for a sack.
Speaking of the devil...
Murphy walked up to him and blocked access to Tyler’s locker. They glared at each other, eye to eye, man to man. “I don’t like you very much, and I sure as hell don’t respect you.”
“I don’t fucking like you either.” Hey, the conversation merited use of the F-word. Tyler sneered at the ass. He did respect Murphy. The guy was everything Tyler used to be. Murphy left it all out on the field.
“I’ll be watching you, fuckhead. Let’s see if you can play like the champion you’re supposed to be.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He pushed Murphy aside to get his cleats from his locker. Murphy stepped back, not causing a scene in front of the team. Both men were fully aware that several sets of eyes absorbed their every move.
“I want that ring. I want it so bad I can taste it like the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I want it so bad I’d give my left nut for it. Hell, I’d give both nuts. I want a ring. If you fuck this up for me, I’ll destroy you. I promise.”
“Damn, I’m scared.” Tyler held his hand over his mouth in a yawn. “Can’t help it that you’ve been a loser all your life. Don’t hold me responsible.”
“You and I need to spend some time in the ring.”
“It’d be my pleasure. I’d love to whip your ass once the season ends.”
Murphy nodded. His face set in stone. The linebacker turned back to his locker and his posse of young players.
Tyler snorted with disgust. He reined in his emotions, forced his mind back on the game, nothing but the game. Murphy didn’t deserve to be a blip on his internal radar. Tyler sat on the bench, head down, and closed his eyes. He practiced every technique he knew to get in the right state of mind.
The guys left him alone, knowing he needed time to focus and visualize the game. Instead, he kept visualizing purple.
Damn.
He missed Lavender like he’d miss his throwing arm. When he’d first come back from the islands, he’d expected her to call, been certain she’d call. Instead, nothing. Silence. Nada. As the days turned to weeks and months, he’d become less certain. Yet, something told him they weren’t finished. Not yet. If he knew his purple lady, and he believed he did, she missed him as much as he missed her.
They had unfinished business. She’d left an empty hole in his heart, even as she’d helped him fill the emptiness since Ryan’s death and even his father’s death years ago. Football had filled that void once. And once again, it was all he had.
After the season ended, he was going after her.
“Hey, Ty, it’s time.” Derek slapped him on the shoulder pads.
“Yeah, right.�
�� Tyler stood and jogged after his teammates down the tunnel leading to a packed stadium of rabid Jacks fans. The team surged around him, running onto the field. He paused at the tunnel opening. His fingers flexed on the helmet in his hand. The stadium roared. Blue and gold towels waved in the crazed crowd. The green turf spread out before him. Eagerness thrummed through him. Anticipation churned in his gut.
This was his stage. His. He owned it. He’d owned it since the day he’d first picked up a football and toddled toward his father with it clutched in his tiny hands. He’d own it this year.
Several plays later, Tyler stood on the sidelines and watched the defense crush the Saints, pinning them back to their own 15. Grudgingly, he admitted Murphy was brilliant. The guy was everywhere, barking orders to the defense, sacking the quarterback, stuffing their opponents running game up their ass. Murphy played like a man with something to prove, and he played like a guy in his twenties. No way in hell would Tyler give anything less on the field than the Jacks’ pain-in-his-ass defensive captain.
The Saints punted. Special teams downed the ball on the Jacks 45. Tyler strapped on his helmet and sprinted onto the field. Derek flanked him. Bruiser Mackay, his running back, dogged his heels, constantly yammering to carry the ball. Tyler called the plays, his confident tone and aggressive stance demanded respect. He got it. At least to a point. The guys watched him warily. He’d disappointed them before. Now he’d work twice as hard to gain back their trust.
Things were as they should be.
Maybe.
He waited for the rush of adrenaline and wasn’t disappointed. It coursed through his veins, stampeded over his earlier doubts. He could do this. He wanted to do this.
His teammates stared at him from around the huddle and waited for the play. The stadium crackled with electricity.
Tyler Harris took his position behind center. He didn’t like what he saw and audibled a different play. He barked the signals, set the team in motion. Pads smacked against pads. Linemen grunted as they protected the pocket. Receivers ran their routes. Tyler scanned the field, spotted his open man and snapped the ball into the air. The tight end hauled it in for a first down and then some. Tyler marched his team down the field until a quick toss to Derek in the end zone netted their first score of the game.
Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) Page 28
