by Vivi Holt
“That’s because I was in love with him,” she replied in exasperation.
He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I don’t get women.”
“Clearly.”
He sat beside her on the couch and studied his hands. “So what makes you think he doesn’t love you back? Did you tell him how you feel?”
She frowned. “Um … not exactly. But we did kiss.”
Brad stood and marched toward the door, fists clenched. “He kissed you? I’m going over there right now. He promised me …”
“Promised you what?”
He stopped and spun on his heel. “Um … nothing.”
“Promised. You. What?”
“Forget it. I’m still gonna hit him.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea – going to take on a professional athlete. Anyway, it’s not his fault I’m in love with him. Yes, he kissed me, but he didn’t do anything wrong. He just doesn’t love me, that’s all there is to it …” Saying it out loud set off her tears again, and she dropped her face into her hands.
Brad sighed and returned to his seat, laying his hand on her back. “I’m sorry, sis.”
17
Brad stretched and stared at the sleeping form on his couch. Stacey lay still, her hands clenched under her head and her legs tucked up alongside her. He pulled a blanket over her and shook his head. Why did his baby sister have to fall for his best friend, and how had he not noticed the signs?
He’d called the office when he realized there was no way he’d make it in time to open up. Thankfully, Susannah was already there and had everything under control. He thanked God every day he’d had the foresight to hire her before he could really afford to. She’d been a blessing ever since.
In the kitchen he filled the coffee pot, switched it on and searched the cabinets for something to eat that didn’t involve cooking. He should really go shopping – it was hard to stay motivated to eat balanced meals when you were the only person in the house. He’d enjoyed living with Jax and Stacey, however brief it had been, but still was glad to get back to his own space – even if it was devoid of anything nutritious.
There was a knock at the door, and he stared at it a moment with his brow furrowed. He went over, opened it. “Momma, how are you?”
She surveyed him through narrowed red eyes, then swayed a little before pushing past him into the apartment. “I called, but apparently you’re screening me out.”
He shook his head and sighed loudly. “No, Momma, I’ve just been busy.”
“Busy with what? I see you’re not working today. I guess slackness runs in the family – though not on my side, I can assure you.”
He rolled his eyes. How long would he have to pay for the sins of his father?
She tottered into the kitchen and spied the coffee dripping. “Good, I could really do with a cup.”
He leaned against the kitchen door frame, crossing his ankles. “Can I help you with something, Momma?”
She leaned against the countertop. “Can’t a mother come see her boy?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“I’m not welcome?”
“Yes, you’re welcome. I was just wondering if something’s wrong.”
She rubbed her eyes and blinked. It didn’t seem to help. “No, everything’s fine. I jus’ wanted to see you is all.”
“Okay.”
Stacey plodded into the kitchen and focused on their mother. “Momma, I didn’t know you were here. When did you arrive?”
“Just now. Are you staying here?”
“No, I came over earlier and fell asleep.”
“Well, ain’t that cozy – a little family reunion. Of course y’all forgot to invite me, but that’s okay. I invited myself, as usual.”
Stacey’s nostrils flared, and Brad braced himself. They’d get into it now. He hated when they fought, though he couldn’t blame Stacey. Momma had a way of working her words beneath your skin until it stung. “You’re always invited, Momma, you know that,” he insisted. “It isn’t fair to always treat us like we’re ungrateful and unloving. We’re doing the best we can.”
Momma frowned and crossed her arms. “Doin’ your best? Ha! How about tellin’ me when you get married? Is that so much to ask?”
Stacey’s face flushed red. “If you must know, we’re not really married.”
“What?” Momma swayed a little on her feet, then braced herself against the counter. “That’s not what I heard.”
“We lied. It’s all a lie. We’re not married, we’re not engaged, not even dating. We made it up so that Jax could get some peace and quiet while he’s in town — so he could grieve.” Stacey rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it’s just that you’re not always great at keeping things to yourself.”
Momma’s eyes glistened. “I see. That’s what you think of me… I don’t know what I did to deserve…”
Brad grimaced. “Come on, Stace, let’s just all sit down. I’ll pour some coffee …”
“What do you want from me?” cried Stacey, her focus still on Momma. Brad shook his head.
“I want you to care!” shouted Momma, her eyes glistening.
“You make it so hard. How can we care when all you do is jab at us? It’s like you’re pulling us close only to cut us down.”
Momma’s chest heaved. “How can you say something like that about your own mother? Haven’t I always done the best by you that I could?”
“Momma, Stacey, please … let’s sit down together and have some coffee. I think I even have snickerdoodles in the cupboard.”
This time, they heard him. Stacey sighed, spun on her heel and stalked to the couch. Momma followed, still scowling. Brad watched them leave, his heart hammering. Now to find those snickerdoodles – or had he eaten them all while watching Ice Road Truckers the other night?
He found the bag still one-third full, and put the cookies on a plate to disguise how few were left, then poured three mugs of coffee and set it all on a tray to carry into the lounge. He’d received the tray one Christmas from a then-girlfriend and often wondered when he’d ever use it. The time was now, it seemed.
He brought it into the living room, set it on the coffee table and surveyed the scene: Stacey on the love seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ceiling; Momma slouched on the sofa, legs crossed, fingers tapping the armrest impatiently.
“Here you go,” he said, handing them each a mug. “Now, let’s talk this through. Yelling at each other won’t achieve anything – can we agree on that?” He sat down beside Momma and winced – she smelled like a distillery.
Momma nodded and took a sip of coffee. “I guess that’s true.”
He glanced at Stacey, one eyebrow raised.
She shrugged. “Okay.”
“Do you have anythin’ stronger to put in this coffee?” asked Momma.
He shook his head. “No. Let’s not get off track.”
She huffed and looked away. “It’s fine, I’m cuttin’ back anyhow.”
“So, Momma, what is it you’re trying to say to us?”
Momma blinked. “I want you to come see me sometimes. Maybe call every now and then. I feel like you’ve abandoned me. I know I haven’t always done things the best I could, though I’ve tried. I want to make things right.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Brad bit his lip, then nodded at Stacey.
She sighed loudly. “I don’t come to see you because you always make me feel bad. You tell me all the things that are wrong with me, real or imagined. You nag me about how little you see me, and you usually have a guy there who at the very least makes me uncomfortable and more often than not hits on me.”
Momma rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re such a crybaby.”
Stacey’s eyes flashed at Brad. “See what I mean?”
He really didn’t want to be in the middle of things. What he really wanted to do was walk out and maybe go hunting or jogging or anything that didn’t involve the women in his life. Inste
ad he smiled. “Okay, maybe try not to name-call, Momma.”
She huffed again. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” replied Stacey. “And I’ll try to visit more often.”
“Good.”
“Me too,” added Brad. “I’ll try as well.”
“Thank you, son.” Momma smiled widely.
He cringed at the difference in her demeanor when she spoke to him, compared with how she treated Stacey. It had always been that way. He’d felt bad for Stacey when they were younger, but his sister could hold her own these days.
Momma’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “And one other thing … I was thinkin’ maybe I’d come to church with you two tomorrow … if you’re okay with that.”
Stacey’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise. Brad studied Momma’s face – she looked sincere enough. He’d never thought this day would come. “Sure, Momma. That sounds good.”
“The doctors say my liver ain’t so good these days.”
Stacey gasped. “I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ll be fine. I just have to stop drinkin’. You’re happy to hear that, I’m sure.” Momma arched an eyebrow. “I want to change. Be better. But I’ll need your help.”
Brad put his arm around Momma’s shoulders. “Of course we’ll help.”
Stacey nodded, she reached for Momma’s hands and held them in hers. “Whatever you need, we’ll be there for you.”
Jax leaned forward on his crutches to shake the outstretched hands. A line of well-wishers had formed at the church entrance to welcome him and his family back. It was their first visit since Dad’s funeral, and he, Mom and June had all been silently dreading it – he could tell by their drawn, pale faces they shared his feelings on the matter. The kind welcome by the congregation, all standing in a line by the door and down the center aisle, made it easier to manage.
He hobbled forward, accepting words of sorrow and encouragement until they reached their regular pew and sat. He took a seat on the aisle and tucked his crutches under the pew in front of him. He noticed Stacey seated across the aisle from him, with Brad and Heather Murphy between them. Jax arched an eyebrow and smiled. He’d never seen their mother inside the church before. How had they managed that? And Brad hadn’t been inclined to come lately either.
Brad met Jax’s gaze, scowled, then turned back to stare at the pulpit without so much as a wave hello. What was eating him? He shifted and tried to catch Stacey’s eye, but only got a polite nod and a half-smile. Her eyes looked puffy and she hadn’t returned to his place the night before. She was an adult and didn’t owe him anything, but he had stayed up late worrying about her until she finally texted that she wouldn’t be home that night. He’d gone to bed but couldn’t sleep, thinking about everything that’d gone wrong between them.
He’d apologized for the kiss. Wasn’t that what she wanted? He’d seen the look on her face – she hadn’t been happy about it – but the apology only seemed to make matters worse. The funny thing was, he wasn’t one bit sorry. In fact, he longed for a chance to do it again. But he knew better than to try after the way she’d reacted the first time.
The worship team began to play, and he let the music wash over him. He sang along with the rest of the congregation, but his thoughts were still distracting him. There were so many things he wanted to talk to God about, he couldn’t figure where to start. He’d tried praying lately, but the pain in his heart wouldn’t shift, and he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone else.
As the music continued, he began to pray once more: God, help me to let it go. Help me give everything to You – my hopes, my dreams. I submit it all to You. Whatever You want for my life, that’s what I want too …
Suddenly the tension inside him uncoiled, the turmoil in his mind faded, and peace flooded in. His eyes flew open and he smiled at the ceiling as the pain receded and tears filled his eyes. Thank you, God. Finally, he could sing with gusto, joy filling his soul.
When the service was over, Jax tried to make his way to Stacey and Brad, but too many people wanted to talk to him and his family. They crowded around their pew, gave condolences, asked questions, offered love and support – and wouldn’t let him escape. He watched in dismay as the Murphys left without a word.
Jax opened the door and hobbled around it before it could trap him. Getting in and out of a pneumatic door was more of a challenge than he’d bargained for with a pair of crutches and one leg not working. He let it swing shut behind him.
The orthopedic specialist the Falcons had set him up with in Raleigh said he was doing well and that his new physical therapist was well on target with her exercise program. They had high hopes that Jax would recover fully, but the doctor cautioned him to take things slowly to prevent doing permanent damage.
“Jax Green!” someone called.
He turned his head to see a reporter headed his way, microphone in hand and a cameraman trailing him, and frowned. Great – how had they found him? No doubt they recognized his truck – they made it their business to know these things. He didn’t envy them their jobs. “Hi,” he said, still aiming for his vehicle.
“Jax, tell us how the leg is doing.”
He smiled. “It’s doing well. On the mend.”
“And what about your wife – where’s Stacey? No one’s seen her for weeks.”
Jax’s stomach lurched. “Stacey’s just busy, getting things done.” He purposely remained noncommittal. He had no intention of letting the paparazzi at her. She hadn’t been back to the house since Saturday, and he was beginning to think she might never return. He climbed into the Ram and waved to the reporter as he drove off. No matter how long he was a football player, he’d never get used to having people trail him around, asking questions about his personal life.
Back home, he ordered Chinese food, sat in front of ESPN and ate it with a pair of wooden chopsticks right out of the box. He leaned his head back against the headrest of his chair and sighed. It was exhausting recovering from an injury – all day he’d done physical therapy, visited specialists, gotten tests and had scans done on his leg. Now he just wanted to sit and rest, with no one asking him questions, prodding or poking him, wanting something from him.
He flicked through the channels, looking for something else to watch – watching sports only increased his sense of frustration. He landed on a movie he’d seen a half-dozen times and set down the remote.
He was tired of demands, but he didn’t want to be alone. If he was being honest with himself, he wished Stacey were here. He’d thought she would be – she’d even told him she’d help take care of him – and he’d been naive enough to believe her. He could stand all of this if she were here with him. But she wasn’t. He guessed she was at Brad’s – her car was parked outside his apartment the last time he’d been by.
He popped another piece of chicken into his mouth. She was mad at him, that much he’d figured out, but why? Because he’d kissed her? Because he’d apologized? If only he could read her thoughts, figure out what he’d done wrong so he could make it right. Or barring that, if only she’d tell him.
The front gate hummed open and Jax frowned. His leg ached from all the work that day and now he had to go to the front door. He sighed and levered himself out of the chair, picked up the crutches and hobbled through the living room to the video intercom showing the gate to the community. The tail end of Brad’s car disappeared from view. He limped out to the front porch to wait for him.
Brad’s face was a blank as he got out of his car. Jax knew that look – his friend was angry. He leaned against the porch rail and crossed his arms. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Jax nodded and lowered himself into one of the rocking chairs on the porch. “Does this have anything to do with your sister?”
Brad scowled. “You know it does.”
“Look, Brad, everything’s fine between us. I don’t know what you think happened, but we’re friends.”
“Everything’s fine
… sure. Everything is not fine – not for Stacey and not for me. You might be the big-shot football star, but that doesn’t mean you can just go around town breaking hearts and ruining people’s lives!” Brad’s face was reddening, his voice rising in volume.
Jax’s eyes widened. What was he talking about? “I don’t know what Stacey told you, but I’m not breaking any hearts, I can promise that.”
“You made her fall in love with you, then you pushed her away. What do you think that does to a woman like Stacey?”
“I didn’t make h … wait. Fall in love with me? Is that what she says – she loves me?”
Brad’s jaw dropped, and flash of regret passed over his features. “I can’t say what … I don’t know for sure … um …”
“Does she know you’re here?” asked Jax suspiciously, leaning forward in his chair.
“No. And you can’t tell her – this is between you and me.”
“Oh no you don’t. You brought this up – now you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. You said Stacey loves me. What makes you think that?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“She loves me because I’m an idiot?” Jax scratched his head. Brad wasn’t making any sense. He wanted to shake him and make him spill everything.
“No, you’re an idiot if you don’t know how she feels.”
“She hasn’t said anything …”
“Of course she hasn’t. She’s waiting for you to read her mind – that’s what she does. She’s frustrating and infuriating, but she’s my sister and I love her and you’re gonna treat her right, dang it!”
Jax chuckled. “You’re a good brother.”
Brad combed fingers through his hair, his cheeks reddening further. “I don’t know about that. A good brother would’ve come over here and leveled you.”
“Well, I appreciate your restraint. After all, we’re friends too.” Jax leaned back in his chair. “So she does love me. Now what on Earth am I going to do about it?”
“Do you love her?”
Jax nodded, his heart soaring. “I do.”