What if he slipped while running the forty-yard dash or that tricky shuttle run? Those short sprints between the orange cones were hell on the knees.
It was his knee. He’d made his choice. It was no longer her concern.
It would be great if she could communicate those sentiments to the ball of trepidation rolling around in her stomach.
Her phone rang. She flipped it over to find London’s picture staring back at her. As she answered the call, there was a simultaneous knock on the door.
“It’s us. Open up,” she heard London say both through the phone and the front door.
What are they doing here in the middle of the day?
Taylor flung her head back and sighed up at the ceiling. She should have anticipated this after sending that vague text yesterday, telling them that she would be skipping tonight’s girls’ night out. Especially after avoiding all their other texts this week.
“Come on, Taylor! It’s freezing out here!”
She pushed herself up from the sofa and made it to the door.
“Why aren’t you both at work?” Taylor asked by way of greeting.
“Hello to you too,” London said. “Are you going to let us in? That cold front moved in this morning and now my ass is literally frozen.”
“Do I have to let you in?” Taylor asked.
London and Samiah both gave her that look—the one that said she had two seconds to start acting right before she got her butt handed to her.
Taylor stepped out of the doorway and flung her hand out. “Fine. Come in,” she said.
They both entered, making her tiny studio feel that much smaller. London held a cloth shopping bag and Samiah had a tray of something.
“Sorry I haven’t replied to the group texts lately. I haven’t been in the mood to talk,” Taylor said. “Or to do anything social, to be honest.”
“Yeah, we gathered that,” London said. She pulled a paper sack from the bag. “Thus the wine.”
“And the charcuterie board,” Samiah said, holding out a platter with artfully arranged fruit, crackers, cheese, meats, and olives. She brushed past Taylor and went into the living room. “Oh, we’re watching…cartoons,” she said as she set the platter on the coffee table. “I guess that’s”—she looked to London, concern creasing her forehead—“good?”
“Don’t read too much into it. I watch this movie at least once a week,” Taylor said. She picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
“So where are we in the breakup process?” London asked. “Are we wallowing, or are we still in the angry, ‘fuck that guy and the horse he rode in on’ stage?”
“I hope we’re in the eat our feelings stage, because I skipped breakfast,” Samiah said, removing the plastic lid from the platter.
“I’m not in any of those stages,” Taylor said as she grabbed paper cups and napkins from the kitchen and brought them over to the coffee table. She pointed to the literature from the assessment center. “I’m moving forward and looking toward the future.”
“Ooooh, you had your evaluation.” Samiah lifted one of the pamphlets from the coffee table. “How did it go?”
“It’ll be another week before the diagnostician provides the formal report, but I already feel more confident after talking with her. I can do this,” Taylor said, unable to squelch her excitement now that she had people to share it with.
That’s what these two did for her. They were her sounding board, her support system; they would never understand just how much they’d come to mean to her.
“Ah, I get it. You’re in the ‘all right nah, look at you’ stage,” London said with a finger snap. “It’s what we’re all striving for, girl. Good for you.”
Taylor lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged on the side of the coffee table opposite the sofa. She helped herself to cheese, crackers, and a cup of wine. If someone told her just an hour ago that she would be anything but pissed at such an interruption, Taylor would have called them a liar. But this is exactly what she’d needed today.
“Hey, did either of you see the trailer for the new Beyoncé special on Netflix?” Samiah asked. She picked up her phone and swiped across the screen. “It dropped on Twitter earlier today.”
Taylor shook her head. “I’m avoiding social media. I haven’t looked at Twitter or Instagram since yesterday. I was forced to go on Facebook to post about my pop-up yoga class tomorrow morning. I can use some students. Hint, hint.”
London stared directly at her as she bit into a green olive. Based on that raised eyebrow, Taylor figured she shouldn’t count on her friend to show up tomorrow.
“Turn it to ESPN,” Samiah said, still looking at her phone. She pointed at the television. “Turn it on now!”
“No.” Taylor shook her head. “I’m avoiding TV too. Especially ESPN.”
“Jamar canceled his workout. He’s giving a press conference right now.”
“What!” Taylor picked up the remote and stabbed at the power button. “What channel is ESPN?”
“I don’t know!” both London and Samiah screeched.
As she scrolled through the channel guide, stark terror seized her chest. God, had he been hurt? Is that why he’d called it off?
“Is there anything explaining why he canceled it?” Taylor asked.
“No, just a tweet from that Alec Mooney guy. He posted a picture of the empty parking lot at the UT practice facility. It says ‘Micah Hill of Hill Sports Management announced that Jamar Dixon’s scheduled tryout event would no longer take place.’ His follow-up tweet says that Jamar will be making a statement instead.”
What could have caused him to call it off at the last minute like this?
After what seemed like endless scrolling, Taylor finally found ESPN. She involuntarily flinched at the sight of Jamar sitting at a white folding table; various pieces of football equipment were assembled behind him. He was reading from his phone.
“—wasn’t the easiest decision, but it was the right one to make. Going through with this workout would have put me at risk for an even more substantial injury. I decided it wasn’t worth it. I now know that I don’t have anything to prove to anyone. Including myself.”
A rueful smile crossed his lips. “To say my professional football career didn’t last as long as I wanted it to last is the ultimate understatement, but I will eventually learn to live with that. Millions of young men who strap on their shoulder pads on Friday nights would give anything to experience what I did for those few short months with the Chicago Bears. I will always be grateful and count myself as one of the lucky ones.
“But today is about more than my football career. This is about the future. As many of you know, I lost my best friend, Silas Cannon III, during our senior year at Katy High School. If he’d had the chance, I have no doubt that Silas would have made it all the way to Canton, Ohio, and the football Hall of Fame. Even though the game meant a lot to him, Silas’s family meant more. Helping people—especially those who just couldn’t seem to get a fair shake in life—meant more to him.”
Jamar folded his hands on the table.
“Today, as I announce my official retirement from professional football, I want to also announce my plans to launch the Silas Cannon III Foundation, which will focus on supporting kids with incarcerated parents. I know this is a cause that my best friend would approve of.
“As I bring this statement to a close, I want to take a minute to thank everyone who had a hand in bringing me to this point in my life. My parents, my agent, my coaches and former teammates, the physicians and specialists who took care of me, the Cannon family, and Taylor Powell of Taylor’d Conditioning Fitness Consulting.”
“Oh, shit,” London gasped.
“Shhh…” Samiah whispered.
Jamar looked up from his phone and stared directly at the camera.
“My biggest regret in not being able to work out for you all today is that I won’t be able to showcase the strides I’ve made in my recovery thanks to Taylor’d
Conditioning. Its owner is one of the toughest, most talented, and most qualified fitness professionals I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. If I had made it back into the League, any success I enjoyed would be thanks to her.
“Taylor’d Conditioning has my wholehearted endorsement.” He paused for a moment, then said, “And Taylor Powell has my whole heart.” He stood. “Thank you for your time today,” he finished, and then he walked out of the camera frame.
None of them said anything. They all just continued to stare at the television until London broke the silence with a low whistle.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to marry his ass,” London said.
“What do I do?” Taylor asked. “Do I call him? Do I wait for him to call me?”
Samiah hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe wait?”
“But what if he doesn’t call?”
“Of course he’ll call,” London said. “The man just told the entire world that you have his whole heart. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve seen since this one’s boyfriend had us tacking sticky notes all around the botanical gardens. I hate both of you right now.”
“Save your hate,” Taylor said. “At least until Jamar calls.”
A niggling trace of uncertainty lingered, preventing her from fully giving in to the hope that had bloomed like wildflowers within her chest.
“If he calls,” she amended.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
With her ankles resting on her thighs, Taylor interlaced her fingers and pressed her palms together.
“Breathe in,” she instructed in a soothing voice. She sucked in a cleansing breath and tried not to wince as the sharp gust of cold air cut through her.
Hot yoga seemed to be all the rage these days, but maybe she was in the midst of creating an entirely new trend: freeze your ass off yoga. She should embrace the goose bumps popping up along her forearms.
There were at least a dozen more suitable places she could have held this pop-up yoga class, but she needed to be here in Zilker Park and she refused to change the location. She hadn’t expected anyone to sign up after that cold front blew in yesterday, but to her surprise there were six brave souls willing to endure the elements of this chilly morning.
An even bigger shock, Samiah and London were counted in those six.
Their presence calmed her nearly as much as the asana yoga poses she’d guided the class through. Her mind and body needed this today.
“Stretch your hands to the sky,” Taylor guided, lifting her hands over her head. “And now back to your center.” She brought her palms together in the resting pose. “Another breath in. Feel your chest expand. Then push out everything that’s troubling you. Let the wind take it.”
She opened her eyes and glanced out at the class.
She was pretty sure London had fallen asleep. Her head was bowed low, her chin on her chest. Taylor couldn’t be upset. London had warned her this might happen.
She took the class through several more poses before bringing their session to a close.
After thanking them for joining her and passing out business cards, she walked over to where London and Samiah were rolling up their mats.
“Did you enjoy your nap?” she asked London.
“It was perfect,” she answered with a dreamy sigh. “Exactly what I needed before starting the marathon of surgeries I have today.” She tipped her head toward Samiah. “I’m happy she convinced me to come with her.”
“So am I,” Taylor said with a laugh.
“Have you gotten a phone call yet?” Samiah asked.
Taylor shook her head.
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” London said. “Maybe he’s still working up the nerve to call, or he’s meeting with lawyers to set up that foundation, or he drank away his sorrows over having to retire and he’s too hungover to use a phone. He’ll eventually call.” She hefted the mat strap over her shoulder. “My shift starts in an hour, so I need to get out of here.”
She gave them both quick hugs before taking off in the direction of Strafford Drive where she’d parked.
“She’s right, you know,” Samiah said. “Not about the hangover, although she may be right about that too. Lord knows he has reason to get drunk. But I think if you give him time, he’ll call.” She clamped a hand on Taylor’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I need to get going myself. I have to go into the office.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Gotta make sacrifices if I’m gonna be the boss one day.”
“You got that right.” Taylor held her hand up for a high five. “Gimme some.”
Samiah obliged, but then her eyes grew wide and a smile drew across her face.
“You’ve got company,” she said.
Taylor turned in the direction she indicated.
Her breath caught.
Jamar leaned against the front of his parked Range Rover, feet braced apart, hands stuffed in the pockets of his tan corduroys. Taylor fully embraced the longing that swept through her. She’d spent most of the past week avoiding any mention of him, but ever since yesterday’s press conference, her heart fluttered like hummingbird wings within her chest just at the thought of him.
“Told you,” Samiah said. She gestured to several students from the class who still lingered. “Why don’t you finish up with these folks and then you can go to him? And you’d better text us to let us know how things go,” she added.
“I will,” Taylor said. “I’ll see you Friday night.”
“It’s next Saturday, remember? We’re getting together for Daniel’s birthday.”
“Oh yeah, right,” she said. “I knew that. See you next Saturday.”
As Taylor fielded questions about yoga poses from the two women who remained, she was hyperaware of the fact that Jamar stood less than thirty yards away. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know that he’d started walking toward her. She felt him in her bones.
“How much do you charge per hour as a personal trainer?” asked the woman with curly brunette hair.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be taking on any new clients for a while,” Taylor answered. “I will continue to hold classes like this one. Keep an eye out for announcements on my Facebook page and Instagram account.”
“I will! This class was great, although I’d rather be somewhere warmer.”
So much for her new yoga trend.
“We’ll definitely be indoors next time,” Taylor said.
The smiles on both women’s faces grew wider as they looked past Taylor and waved.
“Hi! I’m a big fan, Diesel,” the brunette said.
“Thanks,” he answered.
The deep timbre of his voice caused more goose bumps to pop up along her skin. Taylor kept her back to him, even after the two women withdrew from the area she’d commandeered for this morning’s class. She needed a moment to gather herself.
“Taylor,” he called.
Anxiety knotted in her stomach as she turned to face him.
He still had his hands in his pockets. Any passerby who saw him would presume he was the epitome of relaxed and unbothered, but she noted the strain in his broad shoulders, the lines marring his forehead and bracketing his mouth.
“Hey,” she said, her heart pounding steadily against her rib cage.
“Hey,” he returned. He nudged his chin in the direction of the two women who’d just left. “Did I hear you say you aren’t taking on any clients?”
“Not anyone new.” She picked up her yoga mat and rolled it up so that she’d have something to do with her hands. Tucking it underneath her arm, she said, “A couple of my old regulars contacted me. I’ll be working with them and offering a few pop-up classes here and there, but I don’t want to take on too much.”
“Because of your ankle?” he asked. “Is it healing properly?”
“My ankle is fine,” Taylor said. She straightened her shoulders, any vestiges of modesty floating away on the wave of pride that swelled in
her chest. “I don’t want to take on any new clients because if I do as well as I think I will do on the college entrance exam in a few weeks, I’ll be starting classes full-time when the winter semester begins.”
A small smile lifted one corner of Jamar’s mouth. “You registered to take the exam.”
“And I requested testing accommodations: extra time to complete the test and a proctor to read the questions out loud.”
“Good.” He nodded, his throat undulating as he swallowed.
Intolerably tense moments ticked by as they stood there facing each other. Disquiet filled the space between them, a cloud of unspoken words weighing heavy in the air.
“Did you see the press conference yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes. I think the foundation is a wonderful way to honor Silas’s memory.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” He glanced at the ground, then brought his eyes back to her. “I’m sorry, Taylor,” Jamar said, the words exiting his mouth on an achingly soft whisper. “I know sorry isn’t enough. There’s no excuse for the way I spoke to you the day you left, especially because you were right.”
Her brow arched. “Was I?”
“I was never going to accept a contract from any team. I’d made that decision while I was still on that call with Micah. But it was irresponsible for me to even consider going through with the workout after feeling that pain in my knee.”
“Were you the one who called it off?” she asked.
He nodded. “I had Micah contact the teams yesterday morning, about an hour before the livestream was supposed to start.”
“What made you cancel it?”
“It’s like you said, it wasn’t worth the risk. Knowing I wouldn’t play ball, no matter the outcome of the workout, it just didn’t make sense to put my body through that.” His gaze caught hers and held it. “I realized performing for those teams wouldn’t give me the one thing I’ve truly been seeking: Silas’s forgiveness.”
Taylor pulled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth, her throat tightening with empathy over the anguish she heard in his voice.
“Everything else I said I wanted, it was all bullshit,” Jamar said. “This was about Silas. It’s always been about Silas, about me trying to make up for what I stole from him. I’ve always known that in here,” he said, tapping the center of his chest. “But when you pointed it out that day in my office, it just…it hit me in a way I wasn’t ready for.”
The Dating Playbook Page 29
