Old Fashioned

by Steiner, Kandi

  I’d driven separately from the team for the two-hour road trip so that I could take Paige home with me after the game, and I was thankful for that fact as I packed up my athletic bag and slung it over one shoulder, listening to Paige go on excitedly about what she’d talked to Jordan about. She was still going as we made our way across the parking lot reserved for the players and coaches and their families, and when we climbed into the car, she buckled up with a giant smile.

  “I’m so happy for you, Mama. You’re an amazing trainer. You know that?”

  I smiled as best I could, heart still racing. “Well, coming from you, that’s a high honor. Thank you, sweetie.”

  “One day, I’m going to be a player on that field,” she whispered, looking out the window. “Just wait and see.”

  I was still trying to hold it together as she smiled, finally quiet as I started up the car. But as soon as I backed out of the parking space, she was on again.

  “We should have Jordan over tomorrow to celebrate. Oh! Mama!” Her mouth popped open, eyes wide as she looked at me in the rearview mirror from where she sat in the back seat. “We could make him a cake!”

  I covered my mouth as another wave of emotion surfaced, threatening to take me under. But I inhaled a hot breath, holding it together as best I could and smiling back at Paige before I took my eyes to the front. “Maybe, sweetheart. I’m sure he wants to celebrate with his own family tomorrow.”

  “Well, we could invite them, too,” she offered. “They had us over for Thanksgiving, after all. Or, if not tomorrow, then Sunday. Whenever works for him. But we have to celebrate. We won the State Championship!”

  I reached back and squeezed her knee in lieu of an answer, then I plugged in my phone and turned on her favorite country song, blasting it so loudly she couldn’t hear the first sob that choked through my façade.

  Jordan

  It was late as hell, but the two-hour bus drive back to Stratford was anything but sleepy or quiet.

  The energy wafting between the players was palpable as they relived every moment of the game, sang our fight song loud and proud, and passed the trophy around to take pictures and rub it for good luck going into the next season. They were already posting all over social media, making phone calls to their girlfriends or their families they had to leave behind at the stadium, and to the ones who hadn’t been at the game at all. And of course, I heard talkbragging about what the sports articles were already saying about the game in the online blogs.

  I half-listened to their merriment, half-zoned out in the front seat, with my eyes losing focus on the yellow dots peppering the two-lane highway that led into our town.

  Thankfully, none of the other coaches pestered me — likely because they knew after talking to reporters that I was absolutely spent — so I had silence amidst the chaos for the entire ride home.

  I spent most of it thinking about Sydney.

  Again, I wished for the focus I’d had before I met her. I imagined a completely different scenario for this night had I never known she existed, where I would be celebrating with the guys and taking silly pictures with the trophy and handing out accolades to those who deserved it.

  As it stood, I was saving all that for Monday, when — hopefully — I’d be feeling more myself.

  I wondered if it was partly everything going on with my father, knowing that the day after tomorrow, I’d be meeting up with my brothers to discuss where we’d go from here.

  We’d all been sitting on what we’d found all week long, powerless to move forward without knowing what our options were, and now that I’d spoken with a lawyer in Nashville, I knew the odds weren’t in our favor.

  We had something, that was sure, but if it would hold up in court was another question entirely — one the lawyer couldn’t answer without doing more research.

  She said she’d get back to me, and to not do anything drastic in the meantime.

  But she didn’t know my brothers.

  Still, even as my heart squeezed with the thoughts of my father, I knew my misery tonight was wrapped up in Sydney. It was in the way I wanted to run to her when we won, how I wanted to pick her up and spin her around and celebrate with her more than anyone else in the world. It was in the way we found each other on that field, in the long moment that passed between us, in the tears that flooded her eyes before we both turned away.

  And it was in the way I’d seen Randy holding her wrist, the way she’d panicked and fled the field, the way she couldn’t even look at me.

  I hated the power Randy had over her, and the way he could make her feel like shit on what should have been one of the best nights of her career so far. He’d had enough sense to leave before I made my way over to where they’d been standing, but he also knew that I’d seen it.

  If I had it my way, I’d take him down right along with Patrick Scooter.

  With my mind racing the entire drive home, I had a feeling it would be another sleepless night as we pulled into the high school parking lot. There was a small crowd waiting for the bus — friends and family and students who had beat us back to the school and were now holding giant signs that welcomed us home as three-time champions — and I stood in the aisle when we parked, addressing the team.

  “Before you leave, all the equipment needs to be off this bus and put away correctly in the locker room, understood?”

  There were murmurs of acknowledgement, but most of the focus was on the crowd outside, and boys were already hanging out the windows and shouting down, starting the fight chant.

  I smiled, standing aside and waving them off the bus. “Alright. Go have fun.”

  They were a boisterous wave of noise and body odor as they flew out the bus doors and down to where the crowd waited for them, and the coaches and I stood back and waited, chuckling to each other when we finally made our way off, too.

  I kept to myself while everyone celebrated, having already hugged Mama and Logan at that stadium after the game. They were staying in a hotel overnight, not wanting to make the late drive back, and Mama had already insisted that we celebrate tomorrow.

  She didn’t realize there was so much more to do than celebrate.

  I took my time in the locker room, taking the equipment from the guys as they dragged it in and sending them on their way. I didn’t mind staying back to organize it all and make sure it was in the right place.

  They needed to be out living it up.

  I smiled as the last of them filtered out, remembering a time when high school football felt like everything to me. I couldn’t dream of a day past graduation, of a season more important than the one I played my senior year.

  Those boys would remember this night for the rest of their lives.

  When I was finally ready to leave, it was nearly three in the morning, and I was the only one left on school property. At least, that’s what I thought as I locked up the locker room behind me and made my way across the field to the staff parking lot.

  But parked next to my Bronco was a Stratford Police squad car.

  The lights weren’t on, but it was idling quietly, and when I was just a few feet away, the engine cut off and Randy stepped out of the driver side.

  He looked manic — his hair out of place, eyes red, a bottle of something concealed in a paper bag wrapped in one fist. He took another swig of it as I approached, and a shit-eating grin spread on his face.

  “Congratulations, Coach,” he slurred as I threw my athletic bag in the back of my truck. I leaned against it when I was empty-handed, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Thank you,” I managed, doing my best to keep a level of calmness in my voice. “Something I can help you with tonight, Randy?”

  “Oh, fuck off with your niceties, Becker,” he spat, shaking his head. He pointed one of the fingers wrapped around the paper-bagged bottle straight at me, closing one eye as if he was aiming a gun. “You’re fucking my wife, aren’t you?”

  It was an instant reaction, every nerve standing on end as my chest f
luttered with the fight or flight adrenaline kicking into gear. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, but I remained where I was leaning against my truck, simply blinking when what I really wanted to do was ram my fist into his jaw.

  “I didn’t realize you were married.”

  He growled at that, running at me but stopping with a few feet between us, his finger now pointing in my face. “Don’t try to be fucking smart with me. I’ll arrest you right now and take your ass all the way down, you understand me?”

  “What exactly would you arrest me for, Randy?”

  “Anything I goddamn please,” he spat with a smile. “Don’t you see? I make the rules here, and if I say you were driving drunk, or resisting arrest, or carrying a gun that you tried to pull on me?” His smirk climbed. “Then you were. No one questions me. I’m the Chief of Police, you worthless motherfucker.”

  The urge to connect my fist with his face strengthened, but I crossed my arms over my chest tighter, willing myself to calm down. Hitting him would only give him fuel for all the fire he just threatened me with, and as fucked up as it was, I knew he wasn’t bullshitting.

  He could get away with any of the things he’d just listed.

  It was my word against his, and as one of the few men of color in this town, I knew the odds weren’t in my favor.

  Suddenly — and all at once — everything Sydney had said to me at Noah’s wedding clicked.

  She wasn’t a coward for being afraid of Randy and the power he possessed.

  She was smart. She was aware.

  And she was a mother doing what she could to protect Paige from the man standing in front of me.

  My heart sank at the realization, and I reminded myself to stay calm, to not agitate him, to play by his rules until I was out of this situation.

  So, I waited, knowing he had something he wanted to say — and I just hoped once he’d said it, he’d leave me alone.

  “Now,” Randy said, straightening. “Are you, or are you not fucking Sydney?”

  My jaw clenched, because the way he spoke about her was as if fucking her was all she was good for. He had no idea what he’d lost when she left him, and he never deserved her in the first place.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, Sydney and I were dating,” I confessed — mostly to see the look of incredulousness on his face. But I didn’t have a smug smile to meet him with, because my heart was already breaking before the next words made their way out. “But, we’re not anymore.”

  Randy narrowed his eyes, as if he didn’t believe me. When he found no sign of a lie, he must have been satisfied, because he smiled again, taking a long swig from the bottle wrapped in that bag before he took a few steps back. “That’s what I thought.”

  I cocked a brow.

  “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope you realized that you will never have her.” He stopped walking backward, tilting his head to the side a little, his red eyes narrowed in on mine. “Sydney is mine, do you understand? She always has been, she always will be.”

  My fists clenched where they were tucked into my sides, but I held back, biding my time until he would be gone.

  “Stay the fuck away from her, Becker, or I swear to God, I’ll take you and your entire family down.” His wicked grin split his face then. “And believe me when I say I can.”

  With another slug from the bottle, he opened his door, pointed at me one last time, and slipped inside the squad car, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Then, he revved the engine to life, flicked on the blue and red lights and an ear-splitting siren, and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving me in his dust.

  Sydney

  Paige and I slept in the next morning, which was usually impossible with Paige, but all the excitement from the game had kept her up late and led to her passing out hard when I finally got her tucked in.

  We woke around eleven, and then she insisted on making me chocolate chip pancakes — which always ended up being more work for me than for her. But, she was adamant that we celebrate, and I was in need of a distraction from the way my chest was slowly ripping open, so I obliged.

  The kitchen was covered in flour and smudged chocolate and bits of batter when we finished. We ate in the living room, still in our PJs, leaving the mess in the kitchen while we watched College Game Day.

  When we were done eating, Paige asked if she could drag all her art supplies into the living room to make a card for Jordan. And of course, I told her yes, because what else could I say? I didn’t have the heart to tell her he likely wouldn’t be by as much as he had been.

  Would he?

  I wondered if maybe there could be a friendship between us, one that was comfortable and safe and where no lines would be crossed. Would he want to still come over and work with Paige? To stay for dinner? To be with us?

  The answer, I knew, was that he would love those things — but that now that we’d crossed the line into being more than friends, we could never just tiptoe back over it as if nothing had ever happened.

  My chest was tight, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as I watched Paige sprawled out on her belly in the middle of the living room floor making a card for Jordan. Her little legs swung in the air, and she’d stop every now and then to look up at the TV before she’d get back to her task.

  It was too much for me to bear, and so I slipped outside, dialing my sister’s number as soon as the sliding glass door was shut.

  “Well, if it isn’t the State Champ!” she greeted enthusiastically. “Please tell me you’re extremely hungover from all the celebrating you did last night.”

  She chuckled, but my eyes flooded with the tears I’d been trying to hold back, and a soft sob broke through my lips and the silence I’d met her with.

  “Oh, Syd,” she said sadly. “What happened?”

  For the longest time, all I could do was cry while my older sister listened helplessly on the other end. But finally, I found my breath, and I told her everything — from our agreement and the amazing two months we’d spent together to Thanksgiving and the wedding and the last week. When I’d said all I could think to say, I quieted, sniffling, waiting for her response.

  It was her turn to be silent.

  “Please say something,” I finally pleaded, wiping my nose on the back of my sleeve and tucking my legs under me. It was cold outside, and I’d wished I’d grabbed a blanket or a jacket.

  “Do you want me to bullshit you, or be honest?”

  I cringed. “Honest.”

  She sighed. “Sydney, you deserve to be happy. Do you realize that?”

  Another wave of tears assaulted me, and I closed my eyes, resting my forehead on my knees and holding the phone tightly to my ear.

  “First of all, Randy does not own you. I know it can feel like that, but he doesn’t. Jordan would protect you if he tried anything, and I think the bigger part of you knows that.” She was quiet for a long pause. “Did you… did you really hear him say something about homicide that night?”

  I sniffed. “I think so. I mean, I was pregnant, there were a lot of hormones going on and I was tired and we fought and…” All the muscles in my body tightened. “And that was the first time he hit me…”

  I knew without her saying a word that my sister had her fists tightened at that, because no one in my family knew of the abuse until I left Randy.

  As it so often goes.

  “So, I don’t…” I continued, sobs still breaking up my sentences. I forced a calming breath as best I could. “I don’t know, my memory is foggy. But… I really think I did.”

  “Then you have to testify.”

  My jaw dropped. “Gab… I can’t. He’ll make me look crazy. He’ll turn it around on me. And even if somehow they did believe me over him, and let’s say he goes to jail, then what? What do I tell Paige?”

  “The truth,” she said. “Being her mother doesn’t always mean hiding the bad things from her, Sis. Sometimes, it means showing her the bad things �
� leading her to them and teaching her how to handle them. This world is a fucked-up place, and you know that more than I do.” She paused. “I don’t know what would happen if you did testify, if the Beckers took Randy and Patrick and whoever else to court to get to the bottom of all of this but… I do know that if you stood with them, you’d be doing the right thing. And I know that’s what you want to do.”

  My stomach rolled so violently I nearly lost my breakfast, and I shook my head against the urge to throw up. “But…”

  “I know,” she said, and I knew I didn’t need to finish my sentence. “It’s terrifying. You’ve been in survival mode for so long that this goes against everything you stand for. But, Sydney, do you really think you’d be okay to just sit back, lose the first guy to ever truly care for you, and watch him fight for justice for his entire family without you there on his side, helping?”

  My face warped with emotion, and I shook my head, laying my tear-stained cheek on my knee. “No,” I whispered. “But, Paige…”

  “Mama?”

  My head shot up, and Paige stood in the doorway, her little face so sad it nearly broke my heart as she took in the sight of me crying.

  “Hey, baby,” I said, wiping my face. “I have to go, Sis. I’ll call you later,” I told Gabby, and I ended the call, forcing a smile and patting my lap — signaling for Paige to come join me.

  She padded over slowly, crawling into my lap as I wrapped her up in a fierce hug.

  “Everything’s okay, sweetheart,” I told her as I rocked her. “Mama’s just having a bad week, that’s all.”

  “Is it because you and Jordan broke up?”

  Shock zipped through me, and I couldn’t hide the expression on my face as I pulled back to look at my daughter.

  “Come on, Mom,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Did you really think I didn’t know?”

  I covered my smile with my hand, amused. “Know what, exactly?”

  “That you and Jordan are boyfriend and girlfriend, but that you thought you were hiding it from me and everyone else. But, I’m smart, Mom. I see the way he looks at you.”