Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance (15 page)

BOOK: Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance
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“I have you to thank for that,” I say, holding the game ball in my hand. It's my second of the year, but this one I'm prouder of. Thirty-two out of thirty-six, four hundred yards passing, and five touchdowns is the sort of performance that gets attention, regardless of what level it was on. “Here, this one's for you.”

I hand her the ball, and I can see that April's touched. She holds it for a moment, then gives me a hug. “I love you.”

I hug her back, and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Come on. Coach said that as the game MVP, I get to sit where I want on the plane ride home, and I told him that I wanted to sit next to you. We've got a lot to talk about.”

“About what?” April asks, and I put an arm around her shoulders, feeling the comfortable presence of her against my side.

“Next week's a bye week, remember? Coach gave the team the weekend off, so I was thinking that Saturday and Sunday, you and I can drive to London. It'd be nice to actually meet your parents. And I did like that sausage.”

April nods and gives me a squeeze. “Then we've got a lot to talk about before we get to London. Including a story I need to tell you.”

Chapter 16
April

I
'm actually
nervous as I get behind the wheel of Tyler's Mustang. It's not the car, I've driven it plenty of times over the past month, we've shared everything but toothbrushes and underpants, but this time, I'm nervous as we get on the expressway toward London.

“April, if you don't want to tell me, or if it's too difficult, you don't have to,” Tyler says as he sees my white knuckles on the steering wheel. He knows I've been struggling with this for the entire week, and to his credit, hasn't pressured me about it at all since Calgary. “In fact, would you prefer if I drive?”

“No . . . the driving helps,” I say, taking a deep breath and putting the car in cruise control. “Tyler, I've known a lot about you, and you’ve been open with me about everything. So I've been nervous this whole time, because there's been some secrets that I've kept from you.”

“I figured as much,” Tyler says easily. I'm shocked, I mean, keeping secrets is one of those things that is supposed to break relationships, but Tyler's taking it totally in stride, and he explains why before I can even ask. “I mean, we didn't exactly start seeing each other after exchanging complete autobiographies. I don't care about your past, I care about you and who you are.”

“But the past helps shape who we are today,” I counter, thinking about my own feelings about my secrets, “including why I am so shy, or have been for so long. I wasn't always this way, you know.”

“I didn't think you were. Something inside me tells me that you used to be a playful girl.”

“I was, and that's something else we need to talk about,” I add, kicking myself for letting that go unsaid for so long. “But first . . . his name was Thomas. Never Tom, always Thomas. Thomas Benedict.”

“What happened? What’d he do?” Tyler asks, and I shake my head, holding up a finger.

“Please, Tyler . . . I need to tell this at my pace. I met Thomas when he moved to London from Hamilton, his second year of high school. We met at a basketball game, his team was playing my school, and at the time I was a member of the girl's team, as well as the swim team. Bet you didn't know I used to be an athlete myself.”

“I'm not surprised, you understand my mindset so well, but go on.”

I take a deep breath and let my mind drift back to the memories. “He was dark, handsome, had a bad boy vibe to him, and a hell of a drive to the basket. He approached me after the game, and I accepted his offer of a date. For a while, things went well, he was sweet for the most part, and knew all the right things to say.

“I thought we were in love, like a lot of kids that age, but before long, things changed. He started becoming possessive, demanding . . . at first I deluded myself to say it was just that he was being protective, I mean other guys used to try to talk to me, but then he turned his venom on me too. He used to call me names, say that what I was wearing made me look dumb or ugly, things like that.”

Tyler's hand clenches, and I can see his forearm muscles, the same forearm muscles that I know can put a drill like spin on a football over a long distance, flex in anger. “He abused you.”

I nod, and I can't take it any more, I pull off the expressway and into a gas station, not comfortable to drive until we’re done. The emotions are too intense. “I know I should have walked away, but Dad was just coming off a round of cancer treatments, and Mom . . . well, we didn't know it at the time, but she was showing the first signs of her Alzheimer's. By the way, before you ask, the doctors already screened me for the genetic markers for early onset, and I'm clear.”

He nods, taking my hand. “Tell me more about Thomas. How far did it go?”

“He spent months making me feel like shit. I quit basketball, my grades went down the toilet, I became a recluse . . . and I thought it was because I was in love. I thought he loved me too, until I caught him sexting on his phone. We were in a Tim Horton's at the time I confronted him, so he didn't try to get physical, but it nearly went there. Then he got busted by the cops for drugs, he was caught trying to smuggle pot down into Michigan, got rapped on the knuckles for it, but it was enough of a break for me to step away. I went to a private school my last year in high school, and then came here to Toronto for uni . . . but the damage was done. Every time I looked in the mirror, every time a guy tried to talk to me, I kept seeing Thomas in my mind, his face going from kind and funny to angry and abusive. If . . . if it hadn't been you, I wouldn't have been able to let myself fall in love with you either.”

My hands shake, and Tyler looks at me, as if peering into my soul. “You're worried that our honeymoon period is going to fade too, aren't you?”

I sniff and look back at him, shaking my head. “No. Like I said, I know you Tyler. I thought I loved Thomas . . . but that's nothing compared to what I feel for you. Yeah, at first I worried. Right up until the time that I moved in, I worried. But for a month now you've been just as kind, just as amazing as you were before you got me into bed the first time, and the one time you've been violent, it was to protect me . . . or at least my reputation.”

Tyler thinks, then nods. “I'm not always a peaceful guy, April. You've seen that, but I can swear here and now . . . I’ll never abuse you, mentally or physically.”

I smile and kiss his hand before resting it on my left breast, over top of my heart. “In my heart, I believe you. I know you, and if I ever show doubt, it's the fears that are still haunting me that are showing up, not my love.”

“And I love you,” Tyler says quietly. He doesn't move his hand, but still it feels nice with his warm hand on my breast, and my nipple hardens in response to his touch. Tyler notices and chuckles. “Really?”

“Really. Not here though . . . first there's some other things we need to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“Chocolate and batteries.”

* * *

T
yler's eyes
open wide as he sees the old photo that is in Mom's room. The yellow t-shirt, the khaki shorts, the twin braided ponytails that I wore that first day which led to my nickname . . .

“Pocahontas?” Tyler says wonderingly. He studies the picture carefully, like he's making sure it's not a fake, but as I stand there in the doorway watching him, I can't help but feel a lump of worry well up in my throat. My final secret, the big one, laid bare in front of him. “Is it really you? So that's why I kept thinking of the ocean and pine trees when I saw you at first, the walking path between the cabins and the beach. It's really you.”

“Yeah,” I say, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It's me.”

Tyler sets the photo down and turns to me, his face etched with concern. “Why are you crying?”

“Because all this time, I've known who you were. As soon as the GM told me your name I knew it was you . . . and I didn't tell you. All the things you thought I researched about you, like your favorite color, I already knew. I've known, and I never forgot.”

“And you thought I forgot you,” Tyler replies. “I wish it were that easy, or that cruelly simple. The fact is . . . I never forgot you at all.”

“Then what happened?” I ask, the question that's haunted my heart for months now coming out. “Why didn't you ever write me like you promised?”

“Because I was a boy who didn't do a good job of unpacking his bag when he got home,” Tyler admits. “The paper with your address on it must have gotten tossed in the washer, because when I went through my things later to try and find it, I couldn't find anything. And then when I took my stuff out of the washer, I found a wadded up, beaten up and nearly pulpish ball of what had been notebook paper. I didn't even know your family name. You were always Pocahontas to me. But it does explain so much to me, too.”

“Like what?” I ask, and Tyler smirks.

“From the first moment I saw you at the airport, there was always that little voice in my head that said I knew you. That somehow, we knew each other. After a while I just said that it was coincidence that you were so much like Pocahontas from camp, and that I was so attracted to you. You . . . you've always been special to me.”

I laugh and nod. “Me too. You were my first kiss.”

“You were mine,” Tyler says shockingly, confirming it with a nod, “and if my memory is right, the first time I ever touched a girl's boob too.”

I can't help it, I laugh and come forward, hugging him. Tyler kisses me, his tongue soft and probing, and I moan into his mouth. I want him, but now isn't the time, as much as I want it. He wants it too, and it is with regret that we part. “We came to meet my parents, and they should be getting back from their appointments very soon.”

In fact, Mom came back first, being guided by a nurse who makes sure she doesn't get lost. Mom, who thinks that the nurse is her old high school classmate Hillary, thanks her and comes in. She’s looking good today though, and is mostly in her right mind. “Oh, April! How nice you could come. Is it Sunday already?”

“No Mom, it's Saturday, the team has a bye this week. I know, it seems like I was just here the other day.”

“Well honey, it's got to be tough with your university studies,” Mom answers, ignoring my part about the team, but at least giving me a clue to her state of mind. She thinks it's a few years ago, just after her diagnosis. “Are you sure you're not going to fail a test?”

“I’m sure, there's nothing coming up for a long time,” I say, giving Tyler a wink and a hopeful glance. “Mom, I'd like to introduce you to someone.”

“Oh, I know Tyler!” Mom says, brightening. “Why, I just watched you the other day on TV! You play football, right?”

“Yes ma'am, that's me. Are you a Fighters fan?”

“Oh no, but my husband loves the Fighters. At least this season. He's watched all the games. It helps him feel stronger. You know, until the treatments are finished, he needs all the moral support he can get.”

Tyler comes over and takes her hand and helps her over to a chair. Mom's still got most of her motor skills, but she gets tired quickly nowadays, and Tyler's giving her all his charm and his best smile, and I swear she’s even blushing a little bit as he holds her fingertips and helps her down. “I'm glad I can help your husband. I can see where April gets her beauty from.”

Mom's blush deepens, and Tyler comes back to my side. “You're going to have to keep a hold on him. Handsome, charming, and a good athlete. You certainly found a diamond this time. Tell me he's a gentleman as well.”

“He's a perfect gentleman,” I say, taking his hand. “He's been a perfect gentleman. But Mom, how was your visit with the doctors?”

“Oh, they say what they say, but I never give them any mind,” Mom says with a wave of her hand. “They want me to take vitamins and stuff, but I feel just fine. I'm just humoring them until Adam finishes his treatments. You know, after they caught it so early I hoped that it would be over, but I guess they missed something. It's okay though, I'm sure he'll be fine in time to see April graduate next year.”

I swallow hard, and I can see Tyler's look of concern on his face. “I'm sure he will,” Tyler reassures her. “I'm sure April's father will always remember that day.”

Mom smiles and drifts away into a daze, randomly picking up pieces of long ago conversations and dropping them into the middle of the silence, sometimes looking at Tyler and I like we're totally different people.

“You know Jeremy, it wouldn't be so bad if you just got that Flock of Seagulls cut of yours trimmed down some. Mr. Pemberton would get off your case about it, and work would go so much easier.”

“Flock of Seagulls?” Tyler asks, looking over at me.

“Eighties band, famous hair,” I whisper. “Later.”

Tyler nods and turns his attention back to Mom. “Well, that's true, but I happen to like it. It's like . . . totally rad.”

Mom laughs and smiles. “You sound like one of those California surfer dudes. Hardly befitting a McGill man, don't you think?”

Mom drifts off again before Tyler can reply, and he leans over. “Jeremy?”

“I think he's a family friend, back when she just got out of college. I've never met him though. You're doing great with her though, by the way.”

“Not too hard to just go with the flow,” Tyler explains. “So what are her strongest memories?”

“Music and cooking,” I answer with a smirk. “And don't try with your cooking.”

The door to the cottage opens, and Dad is wheeled in by his attendant, looking even more wasted away than when I was here two weeks ago. His normally naturally lightly bronzed skin is pale and waxy, and his eyes are sunken in. Still, he gives me a smile as the attendant helps him into bed. “Well sweetie, it's good to see you.”

“Daddy . . .” I whisper, coming over with Tyler, trying to control the urge to cry. I promised myself I wouldn't, not here. “I did what you asked. I'd like you to meet Tyler Paulson. Tyler, this is my father, Adam Graywolf.”

“Adam Gray,” Dad corrects me, holding out a hand. “I'm only Adam Graywolf on Nations lands.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Tyler says, carefully shaking hands. “I've had a chance to talk with your wife.”

“Adam, how're you feeling?”

“I'll be fine, Marie,” Dad says, giving Mom's hand a tiny squeeze. “Your checkup went well?”

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