MVP

by Rachel Van Dyken

  No way.

  I was hallucinating.

  The doctor said that I’d feel confused as my brain tried to unpack a lifetime of memories, and with that, pain. Suffering twice over something you’ve already atoned for sounded like the worst sort of punishment.

  I only hoped that whatever I’d endured these last two years was stupid.

  Because in my frail state I wasn’t sure I would survive more than a broken fingernail let alone complete devastation over what I was afraid to remember.

  4

  Jax

  If yoga wasn’t required by the coaching staff, I wouldn’t have stayed. I would have stomped back to my SUV, ripped the door off with my bare hands and… and then what? I wasn’t sure.

  Anger churned inside my head as my gut swirled with nausea.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  It wasn’t.

  “I’ll always love you,” I’d whispered into thin air that night at the hospital, when she came out of the coma, when she recognized nobody. When the last year was nothing but black dead space. I’d told everyone I wasn’t going, and like a coward I’d stood in the shadows with tears in my eyes.

  A gift.

  It was a fucking gift.

  Especially now that the day was getting closer.

  I’d need to go to the gravestone. I’d bring flowers for both of us, and I’d continue to mourn what she didn’t even miss.

  Because she couldn’t remember.

  I threw my bag against one of the benches then followed the throw with a hard kick, nearly breaking my toe.

  “Gotta admit,” came Sanchez’s annoying voice. “I liked you better before the chip on your shoulder.”

  “Funny I don’t remember giving a fuck.” I didn’t turn around, just grabbed my water bottle and silenced my phone.

  “Maybe you need yoga and anger management,” he said in a helpful voice that made me want to throw my water bottle at his face then land a punch to his perfect jaw.

  Scowling, I finally turned around. “I don’t need anger management. I’m not… angry.”

  “Nah, you’re just heartbroken. When sadness has nowhere to go, it festers and turns into anger. Trust me, you’re like one tear away from rotting into a corpse.” He grinned. “But never fear, because today, we have yoga!”

  “I’m not a corpse.” I glared. “And yoga isn’t going to help.”

  “Bullshit, you love yoga or used to. Or maybe it had more to do with a fine piece of ass bending over in front of you?”

  I clenched my teeth.

  “Joke,” he said softly. “Come on, Miller’s already out there, they want captains for the first session, then defense, offense, and special teams. The practice squad has a session later tonight.”

  “That’s a long day,” I whispered under my breath.

  Sanchez flashed me a grin. “Are you worried about her?”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “Because if you are—“

  “Do you ever shut up?”

  “Maybe she would like a sandwich? Some Gatorade? She does yoga so maybe bring her a vegan ice cream.” He grinned as we walked into the practice field. “Chocolate.”

  And he was still talking.

  Miller was already with the rest of the captains and co-captains on the far side of the field. And then there was Harley.

  In black spandex and a tight purple sports bra with a black crop top falling off the side of her shoulder.

  And as I stared.

  The anger.

  The sadness.

  It almost became too much.

  I’d gotten her that top.

  It was the same day we’d gotten in a fight over money. I wanted her to use my credit cards for everything; she wanted to earn her own way.

  But we were going to be married, what was mine was hers.

  She said she felt guilty.

  So I went to Lululemon and bought one of everything in her size, came home, and told her problem solved. She didn’t have to feel guilty because I was the one who did it.

  She thanked me with her mouth.

  I thanked her back with my tongue.

  It was a good night.

  It was always good until…

  “Just keep your mouth shut,” Miller said to me once we got close. “And try not to yell at her for no reason. It’s not like she knows.”

  I grunted.

  “You could tell her,” Miller offered, his eyes searching mine before shaking his head and looking away. “Right. Let's do this.”

  With Miller on my left and Sanchez on my right, I didn’t really have the opportunity to lash out at Harley.

  I did, however, have the opportunity to check out her ass.

  And it was just as sexy as I remembered.

  As long as she didn't touch me, I’d be fine.

  I wouldn’t snap.

  I wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown.

  I’d be fine.

  “Good,” she said a half hour later. “You guys are really flexible, I’m impressed.”

  “Not as flexible as Jax here,” Sanchez piped up. I was killing him later. “He used to date a yoga instructor, so he knows all the moves.” And I just moved up that appointment. Killing him now. Right — the hell — now.

  “Oh?” Was it me or did Harley look disappointed? Hah, jokes on you because you’re the one who taught me everything I know.

  “Show me something difficult.”

  Sanchez cleared his throat while Miller cursed under his breath.

  “No, that's okay,” I said gruffly. “You’re the instructor, I’m just a student. Plus, everyone knows Sanchez is full of shit.”

  “That's true.” Miller laughed along as the rest of the guys started teasing Sanchez.

  But the damage was done.

  Harley was too damn curious for her own good. “No, now I want to see. Please?” She pressed her palms together. “Tell you what, if you show me a difficult pose and can hold it, then I’ll let you guys off the hook early.”

  “Do it!” The guys started yelling in my direction.

  “Fine.” I clenched my jaw. Just don’t touch me, just don’t touch me. I moved into a handstand and transferred all of my weight to my right hand spreading my legs. All the guys started cheering at my one-handed tree pose.

  I slowly lowered my legs back to the ground and winked at her shocked expression.

  “Impressive.”

  “Thanks.” I rubbed my hands on the leggings beneath my shorts and waited for her to say something else.

  Instead, she shook her head a bit and then pressed her hands to her temples. I was at her side in seconds. “Are you okay?”

  She frowned down at her shaking hands. “No, yes, I think so… I mean you guys are done for the day th-thank you.” She pressed her hands together and whispered, “Namaste.”

  I didn’t realize I was still touching her back until she looked up at me with a question in her eyes.

  I jerked my hand away. “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “No, really, since you’re being nice, I must have hit my head or something,” she joked, “Not funny yet?”

  “No,” I said in a strangled voice. It would never be funny. I took a deep breath. “Thanks, Har.”

  “What did you call me?” she whispered.

  I hung my head. Shit. This was why I wasn’t supposed to have contact. I mean, among other reasons. Because I knew her, inside and out. We had inside jokes, nicknames, we had habits, and fights. Makeups and breakups. We had a life between us that she didn't know.

  And I did.

  It was like loving someone who didn’t exist anymore.

  Like loving a complete stranger who, if they knew the truth, would hate just as much as you love.

  “See ya.” I didn’t answer her, just walked off.

  Hoping she wouldn’t chase after me.

  And then, stupidly, hoping she would.

  5

  Harley

  “So…” I twirled the straw
in my cranberry vodka. “Why did you want to do happy hour here?” I frowned and looked around the hole in the wall bar and grill.

  “Oh, you know…” Kinsey’s smile was secretive just as Sanchez and Emerson walked up with Jax close behind.

  I sighed. “I swear I see him everywhere now.”

  “Who?” she chirped.

  “Your brother,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m assuming he’s here because you’re here?”

  “He was hungry, he’s always hungry. I’m sure Miller told him he could come. Besides we used to—” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Used to… what? You just stopped talking.”

  “Harley, if something bad happened but you didn’t know it happened, and everyone else did, would you want to know?”

  “How bad?” My stomach clenched.

  “Bad.” She shot me a watery smile. “Bad.”

  “Would I be missing out on any good?” I asked as everyone approached our table.

  Her eyes fell to her brother as she whispered, “Yes.”

  I followed the direction of her stare and drank in the sight of Jax Romonov like a woman after a juicy hamburger with extra bacon. He had no right to be both pretty and masculine at the same time. And that yoga pose? I was irrationally angry over whatever woman taught him how to do it in the first place. I even had this sudden vision of teaching him myself and laughing as he fell on his face.

  Talk about fantasies coming to life!

  I needed to chill the hell out before I turned into some psycho stalker who was convinced she’s dated one of the league’s highest paid quarterbacks.

  I frowned. See? Why did I know such useless information? Like he uses Black AmEx cards and flies private?

  Why would I have a sudden vision of a jet taking off from the runway, waving goodbye standing outside a town car?

  “Helloooooo.” Sanchez waved in front of my face. “You feeling better?”

  “Yes,” I snapped. “Now that you’ve waved in front of my face, all better!”

  He choked on a laugh. “Miss your sass.” He grinned and then, “Ouch! Son of a bitch! Who kicked me?”

  Emerson shrugged, which meant it had probably been her.

  “So…” I looked away from Jax, not that it mattered since I could still feel his body heat from a few feet away. The guy had a presence about him, a magnetism that made me want to lean in even though I knew he was a jerk. “You picked up a stray?”

  “Well…” Miller grinned. “I was headed here to join you girls, and Sanchez got his thong in a twist because I didn’t invite him, Emerson was waiting outside the stadium, and Jax, well he just looked like a cute lost little puppy. I told him if he shut his mouth he could come, and here we are, all caught up.”

  Jax snorted.

  “See?” Miller laughed. “He’s on his best behavior.”

  “But just in case,” Sanchez interjected, “I have a muzzle and leash in my car for situations like this.”

  “When have you ever had a situation like this?” Emerson wondered out loud, earning an intense stare from her husband.

  She turned bright red.

  I looked away with wide eyes and heated cheeks.

  “So, my appetite’s gone,” Kinsey joked. “Bring on the drinks!”

  I lifted mine into the air. “To being single and ready to mingle.”

  The table fell deathly silent.

  Jax shoved his chair back so hard it hit the table behind us. “I need some air.”

  With a shaking hand, I put my drink back down. “Did I say something wrong?”

  They all looked guilty.

  Why did they look guilty?

  “I feel like no topic is safe around him,” I admitted. “I talk about yoga, he gets pissed. I talk about life, he gets pissed. I breathe air next to him, and he gets pissed.”

  “Yeah, well…” Miller scratched the back of his head. “It’s been a hard year for him too.”

  “Harder than being hospitalized and not remembering anything?”

  “Sometimes…” Miller looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “…it’s easier when you forget. Harder when you’re faced with it every day like a battle you eventually lose because you need sleep and you can’t fight demons for a living. Just… give him time.”

  “Time,” I repeated. “Right.” I hopped off my bar stool and made my way outside to where Jax was leaning against the brick building.

  “Did you get enough?”

  He jerked his head in my direction. “Huh?”

  “Air.” I crossed my arms and leaned a few feet away from him, mimicking his pose. “You said you needed air after I made a harmless statement about mingling.”

  “Harmless, yeah,” he croaked.

  “So, I have an idea.” It was a horrible idea, but maybe it would make things better?

  “Do you now?” He seemed both amused and irritated.

  “Yup.” I moved closer. “We should kiss.”

  His eyes bulged. “Are you seriously hitting on me?”

  “No, of course not, I have way better game than that. Give me a little bit of credit,” I teased.

  He smiled, a real smile.

  I liked it so much that I momentarily forgot what I was going to say.

  “So,” he leaned in closer, “a kiss is going to solve everything, is it?”

  “Yeah, I have a theory.”

  “Well let's have it.” His megawatt grin could make a girl forget her own birthday.

  “Um…” I lost a bit of nerve as I licked my lips and tried flashing him a confident smile. “It’s really easy… we’re the only single ones of the group. There’s an expectation, but we don't like each other, so we kiss, prove to them and ourselves that it’s not going to work out and then we swipe right on someone we really like.”

  “You wouldn’t swipe right for me?”

  “Well, now that I know you…” I laughed.

  He didn’t.

  "Kissing me will make things harder, believe me,” he whispered cryptically. “I’ve been told it ruins girls…”

  I frowned. “Who would tell you that?”

  “A girl.” His eyes lit up. “A very beautiful, cunning, sarcastic girl.”

  “What happened to her?” I whispered, suddenly so jealous of this girl that I was clenching my jaw.

  His eyes searched mine. “She hasn’t come back to me yet.”

  “Will she ever?”

  “For her sake, I hope not,” he said in a sad voice. And then he leaned down and brushed a kiss across my lips, so light, perfect. His tongue moved across the seam of my mouth and then he slid it past the barrier of my lower lip and tasted me, I wrapped my arms around him on instinct.

  And I knew what would happen next.

  I wasn’t sure how I knew, just that I did.

  He braced me against the wall, he gripped my hips like he was afraid to let go, and my heart beat in a steady rhythm that pumped heat into every part of my body.

  Jax pulled away, his palm cradled my face. “Did it help?”

  I shook my head no.

  He kissed my forehead and whispered, “Told you so, Har.”

  And then he was walking away.

  And I was staring at him in confusion.

  Because that was the second time he’d used a nickname like we were long-lost friends.

  Because when I closed my eyes and touched his lips.

  I felt strangely like I was home.

  6

  Jax

  Five miles.

  A fifth of Jack.

  And I was still staring at the TV trying to remember when I’d turned it on and when my life got so pathetic that I was drinking alone, sitting in my own sweat, wondering why the universe was punishing me.

  They just had to invite her.

  And I just had to kiss her.

  I licked my lips — couldn’t help myself — she was there.

  Damn it, she was everywhere.

 
In everything.

  From the candy she’d hid in the pantry, to the toothbrush I couldn’t bring myself to throw away in the master bathroom.

  To all of the baby stuff I’d surprised her with still locked away in one of the spare bedrooms.

  I knew what I would see when I walked in there… Walls with yellow paint because she loved yellow.

  And memories.

  So many horrible memories of her in the hospital sobbing, and me feeling like the most hopeless dick on the planet.

  I would have died for her, for them.

  Willingly.

  Survivor's remorse was real — even when you never truly knew the one who died or got to see them grow up — it still exists, still happens.

  And I felt guilty that an innocent life was gone.

  And I was still sitting there, breathing air.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  I ignored it.

  The knock got louder.

  With a curse, I stood on shaky legs, stumbled a bit, and jerked it open.

  “Hey.” Harley gave me a weak smile and then held out a brown paper bag. “You took off so fast, your food came, and I drew the short straw so… here you go.”

  “Nice. I’m the short straw?” I leaned against the doorframe and drank her in, from the full lips I’d just tasted to the slight dimple in her right cheek as she crossed her arms in a protective stance.

  “Well you’re not exactly a joy to be around.” She scrunched up her nose. “I could make you soup or something.” She frowned harder. “I have a feeling soup will be the only thing that makes you less grumpy. Hamburgers are gross anyway.”

  I did a double take. “Did you just say hamburgers are gross?”

  “Duh!” She rolled her eyes and shoved past me like she owned the place, which, surprise, surprise — she did. I would never take her name off of what I’d already given to her.

  Never.

  At least if I died she’d know that she was taken care of. For life.

  I wondered if she’d forgive that.

  Knowing that she would never get the last word in.

  The final goodbye.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shut the door and faced her while she started rummaging through my kitchen. Did she realize the ease at which she did it, like she wasn’t a stranger?