Sway (Keeping Score Book 6)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Hello, Sarah.” She sat behind her desk as usual, leaning back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap. “Please close the door behind you so that we’re not disturbed.”

  Shit. My stomach turned over as the door clicked shut.

  “Have a seat.”

  I took my usual chair across from her, waiting for the blow.

  But instead of beginning to speak, Kara rose to stand. She came around to my side of the desk and leaned down to wrap her arms around me.

  “Before anything else, dear one, I want you to remember that you are loved, and that’s not going to change.”

  Frowning, I stared up at Kara, my bewilderment growing. Was this how the Crockers went about firing someone? It was unorthodox, but then, so were they.

  Kara reached for the large monitor on her desk and swiveled it so that we could both see the screen. To my surprise, there were two familiar faces looking back at me.

  “Hey, Sarah.” Quinn smiled.

  “Hello, Sarah!” Ellie Iverson sang out. “Good to see you again. Even under these circumstances.”

  “What’s wrong?” My mind immediately went to a bad place. “Is it Gideon? Is something wrong? Is he . . .” The words caught in my throat. God in heaven, if something had happened to him, I didn’t know what I would do.

  “Oh, Gideon’s fine,” Ellie answered cheerfully. “He’s been doing well. He’s still coming to pizza Fridays, and he’s even had some of the guys out to the farm to play some pick-up touch football.”

  I digested that information slowly. It was good news—Gideon hadn’t crawled back into his shell in the wake of my departure. But maybe I’d hoped that me leaving might have at least some effect on the man who’d proclaimed that he was in love with me.

  “Well, that’s . . . great.” I forced a smile. “So what’s all this about?” I glanced up at Kara.

  “Sarah Jenkins, this is an intervention,” Quinn announced. Her tone was firm, and her mouth was set in such a way that I knew from past experience brooked no nonsense. “It was Kara’s idea, but she needed some back-up, and since it didn’t work out for Ellie and me to fly to California, we decided to do it this way.” Quinn chuckled. “Zelda wanted to get in on it, too, but this is the baby’s nap time, so she instructed me to send you her love and to tell you, um, ‘to grow a pair and go get that man of yours.’ ”

  I laughed, even as both relief and sorrow warred within me. “That sounds like Zelda. But really, while I appreciate what you all are doing, I’m okay.”

  “That is so much bullshit.” Kara snorted. “You are not okay. You are not remotely okay. You are miserable and heartbroken and an absolute mess. I’ve heard you crying in the restroom. Everyone here has asked me what happened to our happy, spunky Sarah. And what makes all of it worse, Sarah, is that you’re choosing to be this way.”

  The other women nodded in solidarity.

  “Hey.” I straightened up in my chair. “I did the right thing. I did Gideon a favor, and he must have realized it, because he hasn’t tried to change my mind.”

  “Did you run away back to San Francisco to test Gideon? To see if he’d go after you?” Quinn inquired. “Because that’s what it sounds like. You left in a cloud of drama, and now you’re boo-hooing because the man whose heart you broke didn’t chase after you and beg you to reconsider.”

  “I did not do that,” I contested hotly. “I would never . . .” My voice trailed off. Holy fucking shit, had I done that? I thought about my mother, moving from place to place and always so gratified when Rick finally came after he had ‘found’ her again. Had I done the same? Horror dawned on me.

  “I don’t think you did this on purpose, sweetie.” Kara patted my arm. “I think—and you’ll tell me if I’m wrong—that you were scared when you realized how much you care for Gideon.”

  I nodded. “He told me. . .” I swallowed back the tears. “Gideon said he was in love with me.”

  “Of course, he is.” Ellie beamed. “Anyone could see that. And in case you’re doubting it, Sarah, you’re ga-ga in love with that boy. Anyone could see that, too.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But that’s what frightened me so much. I’ve never been in love like this. And all I know of love is . . .” I hesitated. Quinn didn’t know my family history, and Ellie certainly didn’t. But maybe it was time to open up a little.

  “All I know of love is the example my parents set.” I spoke to Quinn, aware that Ellie was listening. Kara laid a hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to go on. “My father is a perpetual cheater. He took my mother’s love for him and used it as a weapon against her. He twisted it, ignored it, mocked it . . . and what was the very worst thing, she kept coming back for more. She dragged my sisters and me along into that life. I swore I’d never do that—I’d never be a woman who let love for a man consume her life like that.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Sarah.” Quinn’s voice held empathy only, no pity. “I didn’t know about your parents. You never said anything. But I’m sorry that you grew up like that.” She paused. “You know that Gideon isn’t your father, right? He’d never act like that. He loves you too much. He’s a good man.”

  “One of the best,” Ellie agreed.

  “I wasn’t worried that Gideon would cheat on me.” I drew in a shaky breath. “But I’m terrified that I might be like my father. What if I got that gene? What if I destroyed Gideon the way my father did my mother?”

  “Oh, Sarah.” Kara knelt next to my chair. “Trust me. You’re not like your father. The very fact that you’d worry about it tells us that. You have a wonderful, huge, loving heart. You’re a loyal friend. And you love Gideon down to your soul.”

  “Sarah, we don’t get too many chances to find happiness and love.” Ellie spoke up. “I’m not blaming you for running away—I understand that you were overwhelmed and scared. But if you don’t come back and claim that man—if you don’t get your ass back to Virginia and love him like he deserves—well, then you and I are going to have a problem.”

  “But what if he doesn’t want me back?” I glanced from one to the other. “What if he believed what I said that day, and he thinks he’s better off without me?”

  “Trust me, that’s not the case.” Ellie and Quinn exchanged a glance as Quinn answered me. “Both of our husbands would cry foul at this, because we’re totally violating both the bro code, where a guy doesn’t disclose what happens over beers, and the married code, where a wife doesn’t tell what her husband shared in confidence. But Corey and Leo went out with Gideon the other night, and let’s just say . . . he still wants you. He’s dying for you. He’s been thinking of flying out to California, but he doesn’t want to force you into anything.”

  “That means it’s up to me, then,” I said slowly.

  “It is.” Kara nodded. “And before you ask, of course you can take off whatever time you need.”

  “All right.” I blew out a long breath as hope began to stir inside my heart. “Should I just . . . fly out there and show up at the front door?”

  Ellie’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as she grinned. “I might have an idea . . .”

  18

  Gideon

  It was standing room only for the crowd gathered in the lobby of the brand-new building on Broad Street, and the people who made up the audience were a mixed bag, for sure. I saw women in silk wearing huge diamonds and men in flannel shirts and work boots, standing alongside each other companionably. What they all had in common was the expression of interest and anticipation on their faces.

  Next to me, sitting in a hard, molded plastic chair just like mine, Morgan Baxter shifted and glanced down at her phone. She lifted her eyes to the back of the room, checking to see if how many more people were making their way inside. The stream was still steady, but it was clear we weren’t going to squeeze many more into this space.

  “I think we’ll get started in a minute.” Morgan offered me an encouraging smile. “Are you ready?”

  I shrugged. “About as
much as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

  “You’re going to be amazing.” She patted my knee. “I’ll say a little something to get everyone’s attention, and then I’ll introduce you.” Morgan hesitated a beat before standing up. “You’ve got this, Gideon. What you’re doing here—it’s good stuff, and people are so excited. You don’t have to say much. Your enthusiasm and . . . well, your heart will show through. Trust me.”

  A lump rose in my throat. “Yeah, okay. If you say so.”

  “I do.” With that reassurance, Morgan stood up, striding across the temporary stage to the wooden podium, where she adjusted the microphone down to her height.

  “Good morning, everyone!” She was using what the guys and I called her PR voice, that tone that carried over any other noise and seemed to contain a ridiculous level of optimism. “Wow, I’m so excited to see so many of you here to help us celebrate this day. Look around you at all of your neighbors and friends—fellow Richmonders—and give yourselves a big round of applause!”

  The thunder of clapping was nearly deafening, and I hoped I wasn’t wincing at the noise—or if I was, that no one could see it from where they stood.

  Morgan was talking again. “Usually, when a member of our Richmond Rebels team—excuse me, I do mean the team that this coming season will be your NFC East Division Champion Richmond Rebels—” This time, the cheering was spontaneous, but just as loud. Several people hooted, and I was pretty sure the walls shook.

  “As I was saying, when one of the team comes to me and says, ‘Hey, I’ve got a great idea,’ my first reaction is not usually, uh, enthusiasm.” She gave the audience wide eyes. “I mean, the guys are great, and they are totally invested in this community—in making the greater Richmond area even better than it already is. I love them all for that. But sometimes, that enthusiasm runs away from their common sense, and they forget that these terrific ideas come with big price tags of both money and time.”

  A murmur of understanding ran through the crowd, and one side of my mouth curled into a half-smile.

  “But that wasn’t the case when Gideon Maynard approached me last winter. First of all, as you probably know, Gideon isn’t the type of person who’s given to flights of fancy, to put it mildly. He’s one of the most serious, single-minded men I’ve ever known—when it comes to leadership, I can’t imagine anyone better suited to be the leader of this team.”

  Another smattering of applause broke out, and I noticed some of the people in the front craning their necks to get a better look at me.

  “Secondly, Gideon has never asked me or any of the Rebels front office for anything. We know as well as he does what he brings to the table, and it’s no secret that players with less to offer have demanded more. But not Gideon Maynard. He never demands.

  “That’s why, when he showed up in my office and told me what he wanted to do, I didn’t even blink. I listened to his plans, and then I picked up the phone and began making calls. I did whatever I could to help—but make no mistake: we’re standing here today completely and irrefutably because of the hard work and determination of Gideon Maynard.”

  Stepping back, Morgan swept one hand in my direction, and my stomach bottomed out. The next wave of clapping let me cover my nerves and gave me the moment I needed to stand up and make it over to the podium.

  Morgan thumped me on the back and grinned. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” she murmured.

  I rolled my eyes and glanced down to make sure the notes I’d placed there earlier were still waiting for me. The carefully printed words swam in front of my eyes for a second before they settled down so I could read them.

  I felt the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, waiting, expectant. My heart was pounding, and my mouth was so dry, I was sure my tongue would stick to the roof.

  Taking a deep breath, I let my eyes wander over the audience. Although I knew it was impossible—I knew she wasn’t here—still, I looked for a set of warm brown eyes and a head of silky black hair.

  Sarah wasn’t in this room; there was no reason she should be. We hadn’t had any contact over the past month, and even before that, I hadn’t mentioned anything to her about the Center’s opening. It wasn’t exactly the sort of event that would make the news beyond Richmond.

  But even though she wasn’t with me, just thinking of her . . . remembering how she felt when I held her close, the sweet and seductive scent of her skin, the sound of her laughter . . . it calmed me. The very idea of Sarah centered me, and I found that I could speak after all.

  “Good morning, and thank you for being here.” My voice sounded a little shaky to my own ears, and I cleared my throat before I went on. “I have a theory that at least half of you came today because you had doubts that I know how to talk—because you probably haven’t heard much from me beyond a no comment here and there on the sports reports, or a few quick sound bites at the post-game press conferences, when Morgan here twists my arm into making a statement.”

  A rumble of appreciative laughter from the crowd, relaxing me a little more.

  “The truth is, talking—communicating—is not something that has ever come easily to me. It’s not something I share very often, but when I was young, I struggled with some speech issues that, as I found out later, are actually pretty common in kids. But at the time, my family and I were both frustrated by my inability to express myself. If it hadn’t been for some gifted and compassionate therapists, and a mother who set me up with them, I don’t know what would’ve become of me.”

  I paused, letting that idea sink in before I continued. “That’s why I was especially interested when I was approached by a group of administrators about the needs of this particular family center. Someone mentioned the possibility of a speech and language clinic based here, to offer services to those families who might not otherwise be able to access or afford therapy. And that struck a personal note for me—a note unlike anything else I’ve ever considered supporting.”

  Now there were broad smiles from the people standing in the first few rows. “Mrs. Carroll—” I inclined my head toward the white-haired woman sitting behind Morgan. “—whom, as you all know, is responsible for making this center a reality—told me from our first meeting that if all I wanted to do was donate money, that was fine. But she hoped I’d get more personally involved, and to be honest, she didn’t have to ask me twice.” A wry grin twisted my lips. “As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure there were times along the way when she was wishing I’d be a little less opinionated.”

  More laughter erupted, and I saw Mrs. Carroll shaking head and chuckling.

  “Helping to make sure this clinic was not only built, but organized brilliantly and staffed by the brightest and most promising therapists around has been a passion project.” I let my gaze rove over the upturned faces, every eye riveted on me. “I don’t use that phrase lightly. I’m aware that sometimes, I come across as someone who doesn’t let his feelings show. I always thought being cool under pressure was a good thing—and in the job I have, the role I play on the field, I still believe that it is a positive. But someone close to me . . .” My voice cracked a little, and I drew in a deep breath to steady it. “Someone close to me recently reminded me that it’s okay to let people in now and then. It’s fine to show your feelings sometimes. So don’t be surprised if you see me stopping around this clinic to visit, to get to know some of the clients. I might even figure out how to laugh a little in public.”

  A guy standing in the middle of the crowd—he looked like he was in his late teens—cupped his hands around his mouth. “You keep playing like you do, you can laugh, cry or dance!”

  A murmur of agreement rolled over the crowd, and I lifted my hand in acknowledgement. “Hey, I hear you. Don’t worry—I don’t plan to lose any of the intensity on the field, even if I manage to lighten up a little once the game’s over.”

  The audience cheered again, and I glanced back at Morgan, indicating I was ready for the next part. She and Mrs. Carroll both came over to st
and next to me.

  “I’m pleased and happy today to announce that the Broad Street Clinic for Language and Speech is now officially open.”

  Mrs. Carroll and I lifted a pair of ridiculously large scissors, and together, we cut the symbolic ribbon as the audience applauded.

  Mrs. Carroll hugged me. “Thank you so much for your work here,” she murmured. “So many people will benefit. You should be proud.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for letting me be part of it. I really appreciate your help.”

  Morgan steered us both over to a table on the side of the room, where the first group of people was waiting to meet us. I’d agreed as part of the opening that I’d sign Richmond Rebels promotional items, and I had a feeling that I might be here awhile.

  But that was fine. It was for a good cause, and more than that, it was an excellent distraction. What did I have waiting for me back at the farm but more emptiness and alone time? I hated that my farm, my place of peace, had become a mocking reminder of just how lonely I was now that Sarah’s absence filled it so completely.

  Still, I hadn’t given up. Once before, I’d assumed my life was over, that I’d lost everything beautiful and important and special. But then Sarah had come into my world, and she’d shown me how wrong that was—how amazing life could be.

  I refused to believe that I wasn’t going to get another chance with her. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the waiting part was excruciating. I was damn close to saying the hell with all of the advice from my family and friends, and jumping on the first west-bound plane I could book. And maybe I would. Maybe today was the day I decided that enough was enough and flew to California to claim my woman, once and for all.

  But before then, I had work to do. There was still a very long line of people waiting patiently for me to sign their foam footballs, felt pennants and the occasional Gideon Maynard jersey.