False Start: A Football Romance (2 page)

Chapter Three

Amelia

My body tenses when he walks into the room. I can feel him right there, but I refuse to look that way. If I look, everything will be ruined and I would have put up with Tom’s clammy hands all over me for the last thirty minutes for absolutely nothing.

I can see his silhouette by the door out of my peripheral vision. He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he is watching my every move trying to figure it out. I can almost hear his mind trying to process what his eyes are seeing. It’s go time.

Time to break my heart . . . and his.

I turn my body toward Tom just enough so that I can see his face. He still doesn’t know Cal is here.

Idiot.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull his head close to mine. He thinks I want to kiss him.

I’d rather die.

Leaning down, I place my lips on his neck and trail a few kisses up to his jaw. His hands slide around to grab my ass, just like I knew they would. He makes this way too easy.

I hate using Tom to push Cal away. I was honest with him upfront and told him in no way possible did this mean he was getting laid or anything else. He said he was cool with that, but I know guys, and right now, I can feel his little friend waking up beneath me.

Tom tugs on my hair, trying to pull my head back so he can have access to my mouth. I can’t let him do that. There is no way I can fake my way through an actual kiss. Not with Cal standing there, watching this entire scene play out in front of him. Not while my heart shatters in my chest.

I try to picture Cal in my mind and pretend I’m sitting on his lap with his hands on me. Tom is squeezing way too hard, and I can feel a bruise forming already. Cal would never bruise me. He worshipped every inch of my body. Picturing Cal isn’t working. I try to completely remove my mind from this charade, taking myself somewhere else, letting the pain consume me so that I can’t think about what I am doing or with whom I am doing it.

It works.

One minute, I’m on Tom’s lap pretending to make out with him, and the next, I am flying through the air. Strong hands grip me under the arms, lifting me from his lap and swinging me around to place me on my feet directly across from Tom. Cal turns his back to me, and then all I hear is screaming.

Tom’s chair is tossed to the side of the room, forgotten while Cal holds Tom with one hand by the throat, shaking him violently. Blood pours from Tom’s nose and one eye is already swelling. His face is turning blue now from lack of oxygen as I watch in horror.

“Callum Lee Johnson! Stop right this second.” I scream at him, hitting him as hard as I can across his back, arms and neck. It doesn’t even faze him. I might as well be a fly swarming around his head. All he sees right now is red.

Blood red.

Vengeance.

“You’re gonna kill him,” I cry, screaming over and over at him. Not out of fear for Tom. No, that would make me a decent person. I’m afraid if he kills him, then I would have just spent thirty minutes in hell for no reason. Cal would be carted off to prison, and I would be stuck here in nowhere Missouri, all alone.

“I should. He deserves it.” The rage in his tone terrifies me, makes me want to run and hide from him even though I know he would never hurt me. He drops Tom to the ground, where he then lays choking in mouthfuls of air.

“Outside. Now.” Cal demands, turning toward me as he waits for me to exit the room in front of him. He doesn’t want to leave me in there with Tom. He doesn’t want me to be the one to care for him right now, even though it’s my fault he’s in this predicament.

We step outside to the cool, muggy air and I wait, shaking with fear. This is what I wanted. I wanted him to get angry. I wanted him to leave me. He deserves so much more than my fucked up life and this sad, pathetic town. He’s going places, big places, but only if I can convince him to leave me.

It takes everything in me not to turn to him and rush into his arms and beg forgiveness.

“Why, Amelia?” he asks, his voice broken and ragged. My body bows in on itself when I hear the pain reflected in his voice. I can’t believe that I caused it. That I chose to hurt him so much.

“Why what?” I pretend to be cool and composed as I die on the inside.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice breaking halfway through.

“God, Callum, can’t you see that I don't want you? It was great. Honestly, it was, but our time is over now.” I hate myself in this moment. I hate the person I am, and I hope he hates me too.

“Is this because of the offer? I already told you I wasn't taking it. I don't want it. Football means nothing to me . . . nothing means anything to me but you.” Even after seeing me in the arms of another man, he still wants me. He still loves me. He still believes in me. I don’t deserve this man. I have never deserved him. He is beautiful inside and out and he should be happy and away from all the craziness that is me and my screwed up life.

“Stop. Just stop. Listen to me. I. Do. Not. Want. You.” I pronounce each word carefully, stabbing my finger into his chest like a knife with each word spoken. “It was fun, but I’ve moved on. It’s time you do the same.” 

Chapter Four

Callum

I can’t believe what I am seeing. Each time I open and close my eyes, the scene is the same. She is still in his arms. They are still wrapped tightly around each other. How can she do this? Did the last five years mean nothing to her? Nothing at all?

I can’t stand to be here a moment longer. Everyone is hiding behind half-empty bottles of beer whispering to their neighbors about
poor Cal.

Fuck that.

I’ve got places to be.

People to see.

When I walk in the front door at home I bypass the kitchen and go straight up the stairs to my room. I’m not wanting to see my mom just yet. I’ll tell her goodbye on the way out the door. Pulling the cell phone from my pocket, I dial the number on the front of the stark white business card I chucked in the trash yesterday afternoon.

The scout answers on the first ring.

“I’ve changed my mind. Can you get me a flight tonight?”

“Yes, sir. I will call you back with the details.”

“Great. Thanks.”

After hanging up I throw what I can into a suitcase and grab the cash I had hidden away under my mattress for Amelia’s engagement ring. I don’t guess I’ll be needing it now. Well not for that anyway.

My chest is aching as what is left of my heart threatens to crumble. I can’t let go yet. I still have goodbyes to say and miles to put between us before I let the pain consume me.

When I walk in the kitchen, my mother is standing at the sink washing up what’s left of the supper dishes. I have walked in and seen this exact scene a thousand times before. This time, it burns in my mind. Maybe because I know it’s the last time I will see it. Or, maybe it’s because of how many times I daydreamed about coming home and finding Amelia standing there doing the same thing.

It’s hard to say.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, baby?” She turns to me noticing the suitcase.  Tears spring to her eyes. She knows what this means. She knows where I’m going and that I won’t be coming back.

“When are you leaving?”

“Now.” She nods her head and wraps me in a tight embrace. For a second, I worry that she won’t let me go and I will miss the flight altogether.  She pulls away and kisses my forehead.

“Be careful and check in, please. I’ll miss you.”

“I will, Momma. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The screen door slams shut behind me as I walk down the steps of my childhood home. I never imagined leaving it like this. In my mind when I left, it would be because I had just married Amelia. We would be moving into our first home together. She would be swollen round with my baby in her womb and I would be the happiest man on Earth. Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way we plan.  We are left picking up the pieces of our past. Trying to build a new future with the ashy remains of what could have been.

I have one more stop to make before I head to the airport. I hope it’s not too late.

Normally I would call first. On the off-chance they had already gone to bed, I didn’t want to wake them. When I round the street corner and see the den light on through the drapes I breathe a sigh of relief.

Walking up to the door, I tap gently and wait.

“Callum. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi, Mrs. Nancy. Is Carson still awake?”

“As a matter of fact he is. We were just having some hot cocoa.”

“Great. Can I speak to him for a minute?”

“Sure. I’ll send him right out.”

I take a step back and wait for the most important little man in the world to come outside. Walking away from him is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done and will ever do. I just hope he understands.

“Cal!”

“Hey, buddy. Come here. I wanted to talk to you.”

He can tell immediately that something is different. He’s not sure if it’s something good or bad, but he knows something is wrong.

“I’ve got to go away for football. I got drafted.”

“For real! That’s so cool. What team?”

“For the Bucks.”

“Oh, the Bucks are my favorite team now.”

“Are they?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, buddy but listen. I’m not going to be around anymore and things will be different. I wanted to come by and tell you bye and ask you to do me a favor.”

“Okay. I’m good at doing favors. What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to be the man of the house now buddy, and behave for your sister. Keep an eye on her and take care of her too just like she takes care of you. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I can do that. I already have to take care of her. She loses her keys all the time and her phone too, and I have to find them.”

“Good. You keep that up. I’m going to miss you.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know buddy, but if you get to missing me too much you can always watch one of the games on TV.”

“Okay. I love you, Cal.”

“Love you too, buddy. Now get back inside and finish your cocoa.”

“Yes sir.”

I sit on the front steps and wait until I feel composed enough to be seen in public.  After a while, I climb in my pickup and drive west toward St. Louis.

Screw flying.

I’m gonna need the miles between here and there to help clear my head and come to terms with the new direction my life has taken.

It’s funny. I wanted tonight to be unforgettable. I wanted to make it the best night in the world for Amelia and give her peace of mind about me staying.  In the end, it was Amelia who gave me something. She taught me one hell of a valuable lesson.  One I won’t be quick to forget.

If you’re not invited to the party, don’t show up ready to dance.

Chapter Five

Amelia

Six months later . . .

I stand frozen in place, unable to move the slightest muscle. My heels sink into the grassy terrain at the edge of the pavilion; just south of the terrace overseeing the courtyard of Fontaine’s Design and my office. I am due to arrive in fewer than ten minutes. Luck had been on my side when it came to finding the position at Fontaine’s. When I saw the ad in the paper for an apprentice my heart leapt. Being one of the largest design firms in the Midwest meant that they only hired the best. Considering I dropped out of college before getting my degree in Arts and Liberal Studies, I knew the likelihood of being selected was slim to none.  I had to try.

The application was pure torture.

All ten pages of it.

I held out hope that maybe, just maybe most people would be deterred by that alone.  If I was lucky maybe there wouldn't be many applicants.

I worked on the ten pages that were required to submit for a week straight, putting everything I had into them.

Fontaine’s Design was my one chance—the only opportunity I would ever have to escape Fair Grove Missouri, home of thirteen hundred people . . . one thousand of which were blacksmiths.

I had to get accepted.

Approval had come the week after Callum left for my full guardianship of Carson. I was now able to move anywhere with him as long as I let the case worker know our new address and kept in contact. Not that it would be an issue. I couldn’t wait to get us both out of this place and hopefully give him the opportunities I never had growing up.

Week by week, I waited. I would pray every night when I laid Carson down to bed that my acceptance phone call would come. I just needed a chance. Just one to prove myself, and then I would be fine.

When the call came, I couldn't believe it. Not only did they want me, but they wanted to hire me full-time as a custom designer in their St. Louis office. My custom shabby chic pieces impressed the director so much that she wanted to hire me straight in.

No apprenticeship.

No waiting and wondering if I was going to be hired afterward.

No struggling to pay bills while I worked day in and day out to prove myself.

Best of all, no more Fair Grove, with its limitless supply of pressed steel, and no more reminders of the
could have beens
staring me in the face at every corner.

Or so I thought.

I mentally beg my legs to move, to carry me away . . . to hide me in the throng of bodies flowing around me before he sees me, but they don’t obey.

His body tenses. I watch as his hands clench into a fist and then release as he scans the courtyard without even knowing why. His body senses mine. It always has. No matter where we were or how long we had been apart, the moment we were in the same vicinity, my body would let me know. My breast tightens, causing my nipples to pucker underneath the snug-fitting black sleeveless dress.

The slow tick in his jaw releases as he squeezes his teeth closed while his gaze roams over each and every person around us, and then in the next moment, his shocking hazel eyes lock onto mine.

My breath catches in my throat at the raw heat I see burning deep in his bright, shining eyes.

Everything around us disappears.

Time falls away.

It’s just him and me, together once again. My skin prickles despite the ninety-degree heat of the bright September sun beating down on me. I raise my hands, running them down my arms, wishing, if only for a moment, that they were his rough, calloused palms instead of my own soft, gentle ones.

But that's not possible, and it hasn't been since the last time I was with him. The night everything changed.

For a moment, my mind wanders there . . . remembering.

Wishing.

It was last spring, and I’m lying bare naked in the bed of his Ford pick-up truck underneath the blanket of stars. He’s whispering in my ear, telling me he loves me and that he will never leave me and then, in the blink of an eye, he’s gone.

Every day, I regret the way I handled things. I wish and pray to go back in time and make a different decision, or at the very least, have the chance to explain and apologize.

For pushing him away.

But time travel isn't possible, and judging by the look on his face, the last thing he wants to hear is
I’m sorry
.

I can't say that I blame him. He’s following his dreams, and from what I can tell, he's doing a damn good job of it. I’m proud of him.

Not that he cares for how I feel. I don't think he has since the day he was rushed away in the bright flash of camera lights and a binding multimillion-dollar contract with the St Louis Bucks.

Or maybe it was the night he caught me in the lap of his so-called best friend, Tom. The same friend who had been trying to hook up with me behind Cal’s back for years. He jumped at the opportunity to have me, even if it was all for pretend. In his mind, I think getting Cal out of the picture meant that he got me.

Not a chance.

My stomach twists when I remember the look on Cal’s face that night. The way he stood at the door watching in disbelief, shaking his head back and forth, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

It killed me.

It still kills me.

But at the time, it seemed like the only option. In my mind, it was him or me. We couldn't both have what we wanted.

I thought I loved him enough to let him go.

Now, I’m not so sure.

Of course, he offered to stay with me, to honor his word and never leave me, but there was no way I could hold him back from his dream to play professional football, so I did the only thing I could do. I pretended to have an affair with his not so great best friend, and then I told him over and over that I didn’t want him anymore. I crushed him. I could see it as I was saying the words.

It still eats me alive. Every day, I feel my soul rotting away from the inside out.

I lied to him, over and over, but what's worse is that I hurt him enough that he actually believed me.

It was a good performance.

Too good.

It killed me to say those words to him, knowing I was lying through my teeth, but it worked. He left hating me the day he drove away as much he had ever loved me.

I wish I could shut off my feelings as easily.

My heart aches for him every day.

I lay in a bed of my own making, crying myself to sleep only to wake and eat, cry until I made myself sick, and pass out again emotionally exhausted. I don't even recall how Carson made it to school during that time. I just know that for several hours a day, I was all alone. It was during those times alone that my thoughts turned to suicide.

I wanted a way to make the pain stop.

It was a sick, vicious cycle, but I did it.

For him.

Three months later, everything changed. My world was once again flipped on its axis, and I was left with my head spinning in circles.

Lying in the bathtub, I was contemplating the easiest way to make the pain stop while debating whether or not I wanted to bother shaving my legs. There really wasn't any point.

It’s not like anyone else was going to be seeing them anytime soon, except for Carson, and let’s face it, he could care less if I ever shaved again. I don't know many seven year olds who would.

Fuck it. Might as well.

Leaning forward, I stretched across the tub, reaching for my razor and the shaving cream, but found it just out of my reach. I hadn’t eaten a full meal in over three months, and yet my stomach was bulging out. It was small, but I could see the bump. I sat back up, shaving temporarily forgotten.

My mind raced, trying to calculate the last time I’d had my period. My heart raced with excitement and fear as I counted the weeks back. Lifting the drain, I let the lukewarm water flow down the drain between my legs. Climbing from the tub, I took in my surroundings for the first time in months, noticing everything all at once.

The mud caked in the rug by the toilet.

The toothpaste on the mirror above the sink.

The dark circles under my eyes.

The tiny spark that hid lit within my own gaze.

Staring back at myself in the steam covered glass, I made a decision. I would not give up on life. I was stronger than that, and I would prove it to Carson and my unborn child.

I honestly never expected to see him again, and judging from the look on his face, he didn’t either.

I want to run away, but I still can’t move, and in fewer than two of his long-legged steps, he is standing right in front of me, sucking all the oxygen out of the air.

All six feet, two inches of pure bronzed glory, inches away from me, begging for my touch. My hand reaches out on its own accord and gently grazes the side of his cheek, instinct taking over. The moment my skin grazes his, I suck in a breath of fresh air.

It’s the sweetest, most satisfying breath of air I’ve ever taken. I never want this moment to end, but like all good things, it must.

“Cal.” I whisper, taking in every single movement, every tiny detail and storing them in a secret box in my heart to take out and inspect later. I see the moment he comes back to the here and now. His eyes harden to a dark steel gray and his eyebrows crunch, causing three small lines to crease the space between his eyes. Raising his arm, he pulls my hand away from his face and takes a step backward, glancing up and down my body as he does so.

“You're pregnant.” It isn’t a question. No, it’s a statement, and the venom in his tone leaves no room to wonder what he thinks about that fact.

“Yes.” Snatching my hand from his grasp, I place it against my stomach, caressing the baby within. Obviously, I’m pregnant. Anyone with eyes can see the giant, bulging belly sticking out from underneath my dress.

“Is it mine?” He asks, and for a second, my mind goes blank.

“Duh,” I reply, wondering why the hell he would feel the need to ask me that, and then I remember once again the way we ended things. I guess he does have reason to question whether it could be his.

“Did you plan to tell me?” He asks, and I can see him getting angry. His stormy gray eyes flash brightly with that temper he's never been able to completely control. His fists clench against his side while he waits for my answer. I try to keep my temper in check and remind myself that he has every reason to be angry with me, but it's getting harder and harder by the second.

“I tried. You changed your number, and every message I left with your manager went unanswered,” I reply through clenched teeth. I watch as the anger leaves his body on an exhale. He knows I called. He chose not to return them. I knew that, but seeing his reaction now makes me wish I hadn’t even bothered calling.

“What do you plan on doing with it?” He asks, running his hand through his hair.

“It?” I ask, hoping and praying he doesn’t mean what I think he means.

“The baby. What do you plan on doing with the baby? Do you need some money?”

“For what?” I ask, trying to keep a level head. My Cal would have known what that question meant. My Cal would have heard the warning in my tone, but this isn't my Cal.

Not anymore.

His next statement drives that fact home for me.

“I don't know. An abortion? Or do you plan on keeping it? I mean, how would you afford it?”

My hand snakes out so fast, I don't think I even made the decision to actually hit him. One minute, I’m processing what the hell he is suggesting to me, and the next, I’m cradling my hand against my chest, trying my damnedest to pretend it doesn't hurt like hell.

“Fuck you, Cal.”

Thankfully, my legs decide to obey me now. I turn on my heel and storm in the opposite direction of Callum Johnson.

The love of my life.

The father of my unborn child.

I can’t believe he actually suggested I get an abortion. Never in a million years did I think something like that would come out of the mouth of the one and only man I have ever loved. Tears catch in the back of my throat, choking me. I blink my eyes, trying to clear my vision enough to see in front of me. Unfortunately, I don’t manage to do it soon enough.

“Watch out!” I hear just as a cyclist swerves to the right to avoid hitting me. He would have missed me too, if my heel hadn’t caught in the groove of two bricks, making it impossible for me to move out of the way. We collide in a messy heap on the side of Parkway Avenue.

Honestly, can today get any worse?

Yes. Yes, it can.