With a Hitch

by RC Boldt

  It takes me a second to catch on. When it dawns on me, my shoulders slump.

  “So,” Ivy continues, “we concluded you’re protecting him from something, and that’s why you ended things.”

  “And Dax mentioned that he saw the new GM near you.” His eyes probe mine. “He said everything changed after that.”

  I draw in a deep breath before I forge on. “I had to break things off because he’s at risk of losing everything because of me.”

  Patiently, they wait for me to continue while Ella quietly plays with her various toys.

  “If I hadn’t, the new GM told me he’d bench Dax and the endorsement deals would fall through.” I stand from my desk and begin to pace the length of my office.

  “He gives back to so many people. His family—he’s always looking out for them and adding to the trust funds for each of them, especially Violet’s college. And look at what he did for the people of Gainesville. He’s that city’s savior, and he did it without a second thought. Because he knew he could help.”

  I shake my head emphatically and stop at the front of my desk. I brace my shaky hands against the wood and lean back. “I can’t let anything happen to him. He’s the man who always thinks of others—who puts everyone else first. It’s long overdue that someone”—my voice cracks—“thinks of him first. That I protect him.”

  Becket looks troubled, like he wants to say something but is holding back. I center my gaze on him. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your best friend. I don’t mean to make things awkward. I just—” I mash my lips together. Don’t cry now, don’t cry now. “I can’t stand by and let him lose everything because of me. I refuse to let him be forced into a situation—a controversial one, at that—that he didn’t ask for. It’s something that I have to do for myself.”

  “I’m confused, though,” Ivy offers hesitantly. “How is the GM connected in all of this?”

  “He told me he’d reveal my past, and it would cost Dax everything.”

  Becket cocks his head to the side, perplexed. “And he knows your past how?”

  “Wait a minute…” My sister’s eyes grow wide with dawning recognition. “He’s the—”

  “Foster brother,” I finish, my voice tight.

  After I’d been placed with the Nadalsens with Ivy, we’d done what most foster kids did: traded stories about our previous foster homes. The semi-decent, the bad, and the ugly. I’d never divulged major details, but I’d mentioned something about a disastrous interaction with a foster brother who made untrue claims. I’d glossed over the details—not only because I’d been instructed to keep quiet about everything, but because an infinitesimal part of me had been worried Ivy would take his side.

  I explain to Becket, “Before I was placed with the Nadalsens along with Ivy, I was with a wealthy family who had an only child. A son who was barely two years older than me.”

  Becket watches me warily, as if dreading where this story is leading.

  “He sexually assaulted me on numerous occasions, and things quickly escalated when he attempted to rape me. The maids and staff who were in the house turned a blind eye because their livelihood was at stake. So, once I finally fought back against him…”

  “Shit hit the fan,” he finishes softly.

  I nod. “I was escorted from their home and painted as a slut who was trying to seduce the local golden boy. The mayor’s kid. That I’d wanted to get my hands on their money, so I’d resorted to using my body.”

  “Jesus,” he breathes out.

  “Luckily, I had one person on my side. We went to court, and there was plenty of evidence.” I offer a derisive smile. “But money talks.”

  “And let me guess.” Ivy’s voice is hard, filled with ice. “They paid everyone off.”

  “Basically.” I shrug. “But it worked in my favor because I was moved to the Pigeon Forge area, away from them, and that was an enormous relief for me.”

  “When did you find out he was here?” my sister asks with a hint of hurt in her voice.

  “I honestly didn’t know until the night of the awards. When he cornered me.”

  “So, because he didn’t get to—wait.” Ivy’s eyes widen. “Did he touch you that night?”

  I shake my head. “Aside from grabbing my arm, no.”

  Her shoulders deflate marginally before stiffening again. “So he’s pissed and still holding a grudge after all this time?” She looks at her husband and shakes her head. “This is bullshit.”

  He takes her hand in his. “It is.” His attention turns to me. “Do you plan to do anything?”

  “I’ve talked to Leif.”

  Ivy’s eyes flash with hurt, and I hold up my hand. “I wanted to have my ducks in a row before I came to you. If I go public with this, this will affect more than just my business. It will affect yours, too.” I pin her with a somber stare. “And I will never do anything that could cast these companies in a bad light without discussing everything with you first.”

  She’s silent for a long moment. Then she exhales slowly and nods.

  I tell them what Leif has been able to uncover so far and my upcoming video interview with Forbes magazine. Within a few minutes, we form a plan.

  “Are you sure?” I ask her once again.

  She answers without an ounce of hesitation. “Absolutely.”

  Determination paints her husband’s features. “It’s time to nail this asshole to the wall.”

  We fall silent for a moment. A fraction of relief settles through me now that I have their support.

  “I have one more question,” Ivy asks softly. “What do you plan to do about Dax?”

  I link my fingers together on my lap and fight against the pain that radiates through me to my very soul at the mere mention of his name.

  “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to protect the people you care about the most. And Dax just happened to be in my life—or me in his, however you want to look at it—at the wrong time.

  “I’ve proven that I’m not good enough for him”—I hesitate, swallowing hard past the lump of emotion in my throat—“by hurting him the way I did. And once the truth comes out, he’ll need to distance himself from me.”

  I turn my head to gaze out the window, the scene blurry from unshed tears filling my eyes. “There’s no way I can let the rubble of my past bury a good man.”

  It’s late by the time I finally make it home. I’d worked longer than normal but was finally successful in clearing my schedule for the month of January. All my clients are matched and doing well. New clients aren’t scheduled until March, at which time I’m hoping they’ll still be comfortable with securing my services.

  The box outside my door makes me stop in my tracks. It’s not a typical brown box from Amazon, nor have I ordered anything. Instead, it’s a thin white box about a foot wide, and it’s addressed to me. With hesitance, I scoop it up and shake it cautiously. Something shifts inside but doesn’t give me any clue as to the contents.

  With an internal shrug, I unlock my door, weary from the day, and enter my place. After kicking off my heels and depositing my briefcase and keys on the counter, I paw through my junk drawer for the pair of scissors I keep there. As soon as I slice through the taped areas on the box and lift the lid, my confusion multiplies.

  There’s only one item in the box, and it appears to be a laminated map of some sort.

  As I unfold the map, it becomes clear that someone handmade this. It’s of the city of Jacksonville with numbers identifying certain landmarks.

  I unfold another section of the map, and something slips out.

  A map key and instructions.

  You must complete all eight tasks of this Christmas challenge on Saturday morning at the designated times to prove yourself to Santa and earn your most-prized gift.

  What in the world?

  The first stop is at a natural foods store not far from me. The task? I have to try the garlic-roasted kale they offer samples of on Saturday morning. Once I try it (without spitti
ng it out immediately, per the instructions) I will get my map key verified.

  The second stop is at a neighborhood gym that offers Zumba Fitness classes. Participation is optional, but I have to spectate in order to get my map key verified and move on to the next challenge.

  I read through the rest of the list, and when I see number eight, a small laugh rushes past my lips. The last stop is at The Lemon. The challenge there is not really much of one. I simply have to go there and tell Sam, the bartender, I’ve been a good girl this year, and I’ll receive my “most-prized gift.”

  My heart cracks a little while simultaneously beating faster. Because while this gesture might be Dax giving me another chance, I still need to keep my distance to protect him. I’m worried about the backlash.

  Not only that, but that inner voice continues to whisper a warning. Things always fall to shit, Darcy. A happy ending isn’t possible for you.

  Saturday—Christmas Eve

  The moment I step outside my apartment building, intent on grabbing a latte at the cute little coffee shop in Midtown Jacksonville as an excuse to have something to do to get my mind off of everything—especially yesterday’s delivery—I stop dead in my tracks. Shock ricochets through me at the sight of the men leaning against a dark blue Escalade parked alongside the curb.

  Tank and Kyler.

  Tank looks up from his phone, then quickly pockets it, flashing me a wide grin. “Hey, baby girl.”

  “Uh…” I glance back and forth between the men in confusion. “What’re you guys doing here?”

  Kyler steps forward. “We’ve got a Christmas challenge to help you with.”

  I shake my head slowly. “That’s not a good idea.” I hitch my purse strap over my shoulder and worry my bottom lip, my voice small. “I really don’t want to lead him on.”

  Tank holds out his large palm. “Let me see the list.”

  When I simply stare back at him, he smirks. “Bet it’s in your purse…”

  Dammit. Okay, so I stuffed it inside. But not because I was planning to do anything with it. I just… wanted to feel close to Dax somehow.

  Tank wiggles his fingers, gesturing for me to hand it over. With a disgruntled sigh, I dig it out. He snags it from me and skims the sheet before mumbling something under his breath that sounds like, “This boy and his damn kale.”

  “Ready?” Kyler prompts.

  Even though I know these two aren’t going to let me out of this, I hesitate. My eyes dart back and forth between them. “Why are you guys doing this? Instead of…” Checking on Dax is what I mean to finish with but can’t, so the unspoken words hang between us.

  Tank’s gaze is watchful. No traces of his typical humor are present. “Oh, we’re keeping tabs on him. But we kinda felt like you could use us, too.”

  “Tank,” I start, but my voice wavers.

  He tips his head toward the vehicle. “Let’s head out. We can talk on the way.” He holds the passenger side door open for me, and I slide inside. Kyler takes a seat in the back behind me.

  Once Tank’s behind the wheel, he navigates out of the lot and in the direction of the first stop.

  “Why aren’t you guys with your families right now?” I have to ask. Because it’s Christmas freaking Eve.

  “If you think about it, we kinda are.” Tank glances over at me before turning his attention back to the road.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Everyone’s due to fly in in a few hours,” Kyler answers. “Plus, we wanted to check and make sure you were okay.”

  I mash my lips together against a rush of emotion at the undeniable sincerity in their words. At their unexpected show of support for me—someone they’ve only known a relatively short time. Even if they are basically strong-arming me into doing this Christmas challenge.

  They must sense my struggle at keeping myself under control because we spend the remainder of the drive in silence. The radio plays low in the background while I gaze sightlessly out the window.

  The first challenge is the scariest. As it turns out, garlic-roasted kale is actually not too bad. Kyler marks my map key, and we continue to the next stop. Each one is unique yet agonizing, too, because it all reminds me of Dax. It reminds me how much I miss him. Somehow, though, these two men make it more bearable, and surprisingly, they’ve managed to lift my spirits more than I imagined possible.

  Yet I can’t help but wish Dax were here with me.

  Once we make it to The Lemon, my emotions are frayed. I heave myself onto a barstool with an inward sigh.

  The guys take a seat on each side of me. Luckily, it’s not crowded, and only a small handful of patrons are inside. It’s funny, but it’s like Kyler and Tank both sense I need a moment. They immediately begin talking among themselves.

  “What did you ask for this Christmas?”

  Tank looks across me to Kyler with a look of reproach. “Son, don’t you know it’s not about the presents? It’s about who’s celebratin’ the holiday with you and rememberin’ our Lord and Savior.”

  Kyler chuckles. “Thank you for that reminder.” He shakes his head. “You’re like a chocolate Joel Osteen.”

  Tank’s lips twist in consideration. “I wouldn’t say chocolate exactly. Too broad. Needs to be more specific.” His eyes turn bright with excitement. “Like a dark chocolate Joel Osteen.” With a sigh full of longing, he says, “I could go for some dark chocolate right about now.”

  “Uh, you talking about the actual food or…?”

  Tank throws his head back on a hearty laugh that causes a few glances to be thrown our way. Once he sobers, he appears to ponder his answer before saying, “Mmm… maybe both.”

  I can’t help but laugh at these two men.

  They fall quiet, and Kyler nudges my arm with his. “You ready for the grand finale?”

  I draw in a deep breath before exhaling slowly and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He raises his hand and signals to Sam, the bartender, who’s been busying himself with inventory between checking on the other bargoers. He reaches below the bar to retrieve a rectangular box a bit larger than the one that delivered the map. He approaches, and I draw in a deep breath before I offer the words I was instructed to say.

  “I’ve been a good girl this year.” Wordlessly, he slides the box across the lacquered surface of the bar and in front of me.

  My focus lifts from the box to meet his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

  He smiles. “Merry Christmas.” Then he’s off to continue his inventory.

  I carefully lift the lid of the box and instantly regret it.

  If I thought my heart was already shattered and irreparable, I was wrong. This package just annihilated it.

  Nestled inside the tissue paper are a pair of pink Chucks.

  With white stars on them.

  I cover my mouth with my hand as a sob threatens to break free, but I can’t tear my eyes off the shoes. Attempting to regain some semblance of composure, I reach in to withdraw one as though it were made of glass. I cradle it in my hands and just stare.

  They’re larger now, made for my current shoe size, but are nearly an exact replica of the pair I’d asked Santa for when I was a young girl.

  The Santa who never came.

  A teardrop lands with a tiny splat on the pink fabric of the shoe, and I quickly smooth it away. Something else catches my eyes within the box, settled beneath where the shoe had been lying.

  A small square envelope.

  I stare at it before I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly. Then I reach for it, open the unsealed flap, and slide out a simple square piece of card stock.

  I know you’ll rock these Chucks now just like you would’ve back then.

  Merry Christmas, Duchess.

  47

  Dax

  Christmas Day

  “…Mercedes Benz Stadium, huh?”

  I jerk, realizing my dad’s been talking to me about the upcoming Super Bowl. Dammit. I need to get my shit together a
nd tune in to the conversation. I’d zoned out, watching my sister and Violet try to follow a new YouTube tutorial so they could use some of the new colored Rainbow Loom bands my niece got for Christmas.

  I turn to my dad. “It’ll be the first Super Bowl played there since it opened.”

  He looks impressed. “Huh.”

  “Sweetie, can you come in here a minute?” Mom calls from the kitchen.

  “Which sweetie?” Dad and I ask in unison.

  “My handsome son.”

  Dad laughs. “She probably needs you to reach something high up in the cabinet.”

  “Probably.” I rise from the couch and head to the kitchen.

  Once Mom sees me, she smiles, but I notice the worry in her eyes. No one’s said much of anything since I told them Darcy and I weren’t talking, and I’m grateful they left it at that.

  We’ve got one more away game, and we need to secure a win in order to head to the playoffs. We’ll need to dominate those to head to the Bowl game. My guys and I are amped up and aiming for another big win.

  One thing that makes me breathe easier is that I convinced Jackie to take a personal leave of absence from the Jags. I admit, I pressured her into doing it, as well as accepting some financial help from me.

  “Could you reach that for me, sweetie?” Mom points at the very top shelf in a cabinet. “I just need that blue cookbook there.”

  I reach up and easily slide it from beneath the other thick cookbooks lying on top of it and hand it to her. She thanks me, and I drop a kiss to her cheek.

  Surprise edges into her features. “What was that for?”

  I shrug. “Because I love you.”

  If an expression could melt, that would be hers right now. “Dax.” She sighs affectionately.

  I wink and lean forward, lowering my voice. “I know. I’m your favorite.”