Wild Cards (31 page)

Mrs. Worthington lowers her umbrella and clears her throat the second she sees me. “Hello, Ashtyn.”

Just being in the same room with the old lady, even when she’s threatening someone, is supremely comforting. “Mrs. Worthington, what are you doing here?”

“This heathen doorman has vexed me to no end,” she says. She sighs in annoyance while she reaches into the purse hanging from her forearm and pulls out a monogrammed handkerchief. She dabs invisible sweat off her forehead.

It doesn’t escape my attention that she hasn’t answered my question. It’s a habit she obviously picked up from her grandson. Or maybe it’s hereditary, and they were both born with the trait.

But I’m not about to let her off the hook. “I thought you went back to Texas. What are you doing here?”

Mrs. Worthington places her handkerchief back in her purse and pulls out a clean one. “That, my dear, is a very good question.” She clears her throat again and says, “Quite honestly, Ashtyn, I heard you were here and I came back to be here for you. I’ve got a car outside waiting to take you home.”

Me?

She came here for
me
?

Nobody comes back for me. They leave me, just like my sister, my mom, and Landon . . . even Derek, the one person who mattered most. But this old, cranky lady with a bad attitude came back for me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she orders.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

The old lady pulls me aside and shoos the doorman away. She unfolds the clean monogrammed handkerchief and starts wiping tears from my face. “You’re just a complete mess, and, well, you’re pretty much hopeless and need guidance. I figure I’m the only one capable of turning you into a lady of any substance.”

I still her shaky hand as she wipes fresh tears falling from my eyes. “I love you, too.”

Her eyes are welling up as more tears stream down my face, but she blinks them back and composes herself. “Stop blubbering, because now you’re turning me into a mess and I won’t have it.”

“I’m sorry I called you a snob.”

“You didn’t call me a snob.”

“I thought it.”

She purses her lips and taps her umbrella on the ground like a cane. “Well . . . truth is, I probably am a snob. Now let’s get in my car and head back home, but first we need to eat lunch. I’m hungry.”

A limo is waiting outside for her . . . for us. I sit across from her and notice her smirking, that same smirk that Derek has when he’s being mischievous.

Later that evening, Brandi and Mrs. Worthington go out for dinner while I babysit Julian. After I put Julian to bed and am in my room talking to Victor about my interview at Northwestern, Julian comes in the room wearing his little pajamas with cartoon characters on them.

“I can’t sleep,” he says shyly as he stands next to my bed.

I hang up with Victor and look at my nephew. “Want to come sleep in my bed?”

He nods.

I lift my comforter and he climbs inside. He’s sucking his thumb while his other hand wraps around me.

“I love you, Julian,” I say as I kiss the top of his head.

He takes his thumb out of his mouth and looks up at me with adoring eyes. “I love you, too, Auntie Ashtyn.”

Chapter 55
Derek

I’ve never been nervous before a game. A calmness would come over me and I was able to block out all insecurities and self-doubt. I was able to focus entirely on the game. I had an overabundance of confidence that I’d win. And I did.

I never thought there was a chance that I would lose.

But now, as I walk up to the house and see the shed in the backyard, I think about the odds against me. The thrill of anticipation makes me sweat. What if I end up losing her? And as much as I keep telling myself I need to have confidence, I’m filled with self-doubt.

Everything I set up is in place, except for one thing.

I ring the doorbell, but nobody answers, so I walk into the house. Gus is sitting in his big leather chair, watching television. I sit on the couch, pick up the remote, and turn off the television.

Gus turns to me. “What do you think you’re doing? I thought you moved to Texas with that bossy grandmother of yours.”

“I need to talk to you, Gus. It’s important.” I put the remote back on the table.

The man sits up straighter in his chair and rests his hands on his stomach. “What do you want, Derek?” He glances at his watch. “You’ve got exactly three minutes.”

For a long time I didn’t care what people thought. Suddenly everything matters. Even if Ashtyn doesn’t think her father’s approval is important, it is. Probably more than she wants to admit.

I wipe my forehead and take a deep breath. I rehearsed what I was going to say, but all those words are forgotten. I look at Ashtyn’s father, always looking glum, and clear my throat. “I’ve developed feelings for Ashtyn, sir.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“For a while now.”

He gives me a hard, cold stare. “You asking for my approval?”

“Yes, sir. Not that I need it, but I sure would appreciate it.”

He looks me up and down, then sits back in his chair and sighs. “I haven’t done right by her. If her mother was here, Brandi wouldn’t have left and Ashtyn wouldn’t have played football. I thought if I didn’t make a big deal about it, she’d decide to quit. I failed.”

“You still have a chance to make it up to her, Gus. She needs you. She’s a strong, independent girl who’ll fight for what she wants, but you’d make it a helluva lot easier for her if you were
there to cheer her on. If you’d watch her, you’d see that she’s a great football player. I cherish her, sir. More than anythin’. And I’m gonna be by her side whether you’re there or not.”

Gus nods. I think I just got his approval, but I’m not sure. It’ll have to be enough.

I go back to Victor’s house and change clothes. It’s time. It’s the fourth quarter and it’s the last play of the game . . . in the Super Bowl of my life.

Chapter 56
Ashtyn

Mrs. Worthington is the slowest eater I’ve ever met. She insisted we go to a grill across the street from Millennium Park for lunch. The woman takes a bite of her burger and chews until her food is completely decimated before taking another bite. She keeps glancing at her watch every two seconds, like she’s timing her bites. I just want to go home so I can close my eyes and pretend Derek is coming back. I know it’s useless.

“So I’ve decided to rent a house in that Godforsaken town of yours,” Mrs. Worthington says, then takes another bite.

Wait, I’m confused. “You’re moving to Fremont?”

“I told you that you’d be hopeless without me.” She gestures to my ears. “You should listen better, or get those ears of yours tested. You’re family to me now. Contrary to popular belief, I look after my family. No offense, but your sister’s a flake and your father could use a little pep in his step. Y’all need a little Texas influence, if you ask me.”

This old lady is moving here to be with us, to keep an eye on us, and to make sure we’re taken care of. Just the thought of it brings a tear to my eye. “What about Derek?”

She rolls her keen blue eyes that remind me of Derek’s. “My grandson is a wild card. I can’t keep up with him. One day he’s moving to Texas, the next he’s going back to California. For all I know he’ll end up here in Chicago.”

I don’t tell her that’s not about to happen. It hurts like crazy to admit it, but Derek made his decision to leave and he isn’t coming back. I give her a small smile.

She checks her watch again. “I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.” She takes her purple sun umbrella off the back of the chair.

“Do you need help?” I ask, wondering why she’d need her umbrella to go to the restroom.

She waves the tip of it in my direction. “I might be an old lady, but I can surely get to the restroom without an escort.”

I’ve already learned that arguing with Mrs. Worthington is useless. She heads to the restroom and I stare down at my burger. I ordered the one made with meat from grass-fed cows. Derek would be proud of me for my healthy choice. He has no clue how my life has been altered because of him. Everything I say or do brings up a memory of the time we spent together. Will the gnawing pain in my heart ever go away, or will I have a gaping wound in it the rest of my life?

In time I’ll be okay, but I’ve resolved myself to the fact that I’ll always have an ache in my heart that only Derek can heal.

A random woman with long brown hair sits in the chair opposite me, right in front of Mrs. Worthington’s burger. I’m completely caught off guard. I’m about to tell her the seat is obviously taken, when recognition sinks in.

No. Way! It can’t be . . .

“Katie Calhoun?” I blurt out.

She takes a French fry off Mrs. Worthington’s plate. “So I hear Northwestern didn’t offer you a football scholarship. That’s too bad.”

My mouth is wide open in shock. I couldn’t talk even if I tried.

“Listen, Ashtyn,” Katie says. “Can I be real honest with you?”

I nod slowly, still in shock.

“Don’t give up.” She takes another fry and wags it at me as she says, “I can’t tell you how many people thought I would quit, but I never did. And even when I didn’t get the full support of my teammates, I never gave up.” She leans in and whispers, “I think you’re stronger than you think. So does Derek.”

Derek? Slowly the realization that he had something to do with Katie Calhoun being here settles in my brain. “He set this up, didn’t he?”

She nods, then turns her chair around. “Watch the monitor,” she says, pointing to the TV in the bar showing ESPN highlights.

Katie nods to the bartender, which is some sort of cue, but I have no clue what’s going on. Suddenly, the TV screens go blank. Then, all of a sudden, “ASHTYN PARKER HIGHLIGHT REEL” comes on the screen, then fades out.

Highlight reel? But I don’t have a highlight . . .

My eyes start to water and my heart does a little flip when footage of me playing my freshman year appears. Then footage of my sophomore year . . . and junior year. I watch each clip of me successfully kicking field goal after field goal, many times being rushed by my teammates afterward as they congratulate me.

Derek did this. He spent time going through every game and took snippets of my most memorable games. He even set the reel to music.

When the screen fades to black, I think it’s over. Until the word “DEDICATED” comes on the screen and footage of me practicing during our road trip to Texas comes up. My hand flies to my mouth in shock. Derek wasn’t playing games or texting when I was practicing. He was filming me with his cell phone while I yelled at him practically the entire time.

At the end, the screen is filled with the words “ASHTYN PARKER, KICKER.”

Everyone claps for me. This was all set up by Derek. How did he find Katie Calhoun? How did he get her to come here? Why?

“You’re talented, Ashtyn. I’m impressed,” Katie says. After giving me a pep talk and answering a bunch of questions, she stands up.

“Do you know where Mrs. Worthington went?” I ask.

“She’s at the bar.” Katie waves to the old lady. Mrs. Worthington waves back with her umbrella.

While I’m still reeling in shock, Katie sets an envelope on the table and slides it in front of me.

“Good luck, Ashtyn,” she says. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

Katie walks out. Nobody else in the restaurant knows who she is, even though she’s one of the few females who’ve played football at the college level. She’s a pioneer, a legend.

My fingers glide over the envelope. In Derek’s handwriting it says,
After you read this, go across the street to
The Bean.

The Bean
is this big silver metal sculpture in Millennium Park. I look over at Mrs. Worthington, who holds up our check and gestures for me to leave.

I shove the letter in my pocket and rush out of the restaurant. All I want to do is run up to Derek and wrap my arms around him. Surely he’s here, by
The Bean
. It takes every ounce of energy for me not to run into the crowded city streets. I wait for the light with everyone else by the sidewalk, craning my neck.

I don’t see him.

I rush across the street with the rest of the pedestrians when the light changes, while frantically searching for signs of the boy who suddenly has a goal . . . and I hope that goal is to be with me.

I told Derek to go for what he wanted, full force, and he did. The truth envelops me. I thought he left me, when all along he did what he thought he needed to do to prove how much he cares about me.

When I get to
The Bean
, my sister, Julian, Falkor, and my dad are standing in front of it. Julian has a box of Skittles in his hand, which he holds out to me.

“Derek told me to give you this,” he says. “Open it.”

I open the box and peek inside. There are no purple ones.

Brandi points to a tree in the distance. “We’re supposed to tell you to wait by that tree over there.”

“For what?” I ask.

My dad shrugs.

“Where’s Derek?” I ask. I just need to see him, to talk to him, to say I’m ready to fight for him, for us. Together we can make this work. If I wait any longer, I swear I’m going to explode.

But neither my sister, my nephew, nor my dad is giving me any hints, so I follow their directions. When I get to the tree, there’s a bunch of purple Skittles arranged in a big purple heart.

“Yo, Ashtyn!” Derek’s voice echoes from across the park. “Heads up!”

Derek appears all the way across the park, wearing a Fremont High football uniform, complete with helmet and pads. In his hands is a football.

With expert precision, he tosses the football to me. It flies right into my waiting hands, but I’m too nervous and drop it.

He takes off the helmet. “You fumbled,” he says with a grin. He jogs the distance between us so he’s standing in front of me now, taking my breath away as I look into his mischievous, sparkling eyes and his gorgeous, chiseled features.

“I know.”

“That was a perfect throw,” he tells me. He threw that ball from way across the park, practically across the street and between a ton of people. And it was completely on target. “Why didn’t you catch it, Sugar Pie?”