Britches Get Stitches

by Elicia Hyder

  “I’m really sorry about last night. I don’t know what came over me.”

  He reached for my hand. “I do. You saw Clay. That’s a big deal.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting for it to rip out my soul again. I was a mess last night when you dropped me off.”

  “I figured as much. To be honest, I’d be pretty worried about your soul if it didn’t affect you at all.”

  My whole body slumped. “You know, it wasn’t even so much about Clay. The baby thing is just impossible for my heart to digest. It’s so horrifically unfair.”

  I could have easily peeled off the fresh scab on all those feelings that had been ripped open again the night before, but I miraculously held it together.

  He leaned his head against mine. “I wish I could fix it for you.”

  “Why are you so patient and understanding?” I smiled. “Nobody’s this nice.”

  “It’s easy to be patient and understanding when you care about someone.”

  I curled both of my hands around his. “I care about you too. And now, I’m a little worried I’ve broken my promise and made you the rebound guy.”

  “I guess I should’ve made you pinky swear on it. That’s my fault.” He winked at me, and I smiled. Then he lowered his voice. “But, if it makes you feel better, the sex was totally worth the possibility of having my heart broken.”

  I laughed. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  He squeezed my fingers. “I’m joking. I mean, the sex was phenomenal, but my heart is fine. It’s totally up to you what you want to do with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we both rushed into this. I knew better, but I didn’t listen to myself.” He stroked the side of my hand with his thumb. “If you think we should cool it for a while, you can take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  “I don’t want to stop seeing each other. If you can be patient when my heart hits a speed bump, I’d really like to see where this goes.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Let’s take it slow and see what happens.” Smiling, he pulled me close and put his arms around me. “I can be patient. However long it takes.”

  I kissed the side of his neck, then his cheek. Then he pulled back enough to kiss my lips. He tasted like sweet spearmint and everything good in the world. When the kiss deepened and his fingers raked through my hair, I realized we were on his bed and he was already mostly undressed.

  I broke the kiss but lingered close, our noses still touching. We were both breathless and smiling.

  “So does ‘taking it slow’ mean sex is on or off the table?” His voice was deep, gravelly, and oh-so-sexy.

  My toes were curled inside my shoes. “On the table, on the bed, on the hardwood floor…you name it.”

  He leaned in and kissed me again, and before either of our better judgments could kick in, he pulled me down and rolled on top of me.

  Sometime later, my phone chirping somewhere in the room roused me from a shallow dream. He stirred beneath me. My head was on his bare chest, and his arm was curled around me. “Is that my phone or yours?” he asked groggily.

  “Mine, I think, but don’t worry about it. It’s probably just my mom checking to see if I’m OK.”

  “I wonder what time it is. I fell asleep,” he said, tightening his arm.

  “I dozed off too, and I have to get up. I’m supposed to skate with Monica today.”

  My phone chirped again.

  When it went off a third time, I felt along the comforter but didn’t find it. He checked his side of the bed. “Bingo.” He raised it over his head, and the screen lit up. “It’s ten-seventeen.” He paused. “And you have a text novel from Clay.” He handed it to me with a frown.

  I groaned as I read it out loud.

  “Of all the people in the world, I can’t believe you’d go out with my best friend.”

  I stopped reading. “It amazes me how he’s so victimized by this.”

  “He called me last night and said basically the same thing.”

  I rolled my eyes and kept reading. “What I did to you was unforgivable, but at least it wasn’t on purpose.”

  Jason laughed. “Is he kidding?”

  “You’re only with Jason to hurt me. Congratulations. Mission accomplished. I hope the two of you are very happy together, however long (or short) it may last.” I turned off the screen and laid the phone on the bed between us. “Well, now I don’t want to break up with you just out of spite.”

  Laughing softly, he rolled onto his side. “That’s exactly what every man wants to hear.”

  “For the record, I’m not dating you to hurt him. Just in case you ever wonder.”

  He smiled. “That’s good, I guess. Because if you were, what we just did might kill him wherever he’s at.”

  I curled my leg over his. “Mmm, then maybe we should do it again.”

  “Spoken like a woman who’s truly not on the rebound.”

  I laughed.

  “That reminds me,” he said.

  My brow lifted in question.

  He raised his pinky finger. “I want you to pinky swear it.”

  With a smile, I locked my pinky finger with his.

  Later that day, I skated the park with Monica while Jason slept. After telling her all about the events of the weekend, she instructed me to make an appointment with my therapist first thing on Monday.

  I took her advice, and Monday morning, I called and made an appointment with Dr. Cecelia Napier, a divorce-recovery psychologist. Thanks to a cancellation, she was able to work me in over lunch. I hadn’t seen her since before the divorce was final, and on my drive to her office, I figured out why I was probably subconsciously trying to avoid her.

  Dr. Napier’s office was in my old neighborhood, about six blocks past Clay’s.

  And who was bringing the trash in from the curb when I passed by in my whistling chariot? Douchewaffle, himself.

  I pressed the gas, which only made the car whir louder.

  Clay looked up. I kept going, but not so fast that I missed the bright red “For Sale” sign in the front yard.

  My phone buzzed with a new message as I turned into Dr. Napier’s driveway. I killed the engine and pulled my phone from my purse.

  Clay: Did you just drive by the house??

  Two question marks like, how dare I have the audacity to drive down the city streets in Nashville? My jaw clenched.

  Me: Yes, on my way to a meeting. Not stalking you.

  Clay: Where’s Jason?

  God, I needed to have my windows tinted.

  Me: Not here.

  I restrained from adding that if he were really Jason’s best friend, he would know Jason works nights and sleeps during the day.

  Clay: Did you see I’m selling the house?

  Me: Didn’t even notice.

  Sure, that was a total lie.

  Clay: Yeah. I think something died in the walls. There’s a terrible stench I can’t seem to get rid of.

  I laughed—really loudly—in my car.

  Me: Hate to hear that. Good luck.

  Clay: Thanks. The movers are coming on the 31st. If I find anything of yours, where should I drop it off?

  I raised an eyebrow. Clay was fishing for information. He wanted to know if I was still living at home or if I’d moved in with Jason.

  Me: At my apartment.

  Again I stopped myself from adding a snarky comment about not all of us stomping on the gas pedals of our relationships.

  Clay: Good to know.

  “Let it go, Grace,” I whispered to myself. I silenced my phone before dropping it into my purse.

  Dr. Napier’s office was located inside a renovated historic house at the end of the block. An alarm bell sounded when I walked through the front door. A moment later, she met me in her small lobby.

  She extended her hand. That was when she registered my black eye with alarm.

  I gripped her hand. “I’m OK.” I gestured to
my face. “This was a roller derby play gone wrong. I am not being abused by anyone, and this is not why I’m here, I promise.”

  She relaxed a little. “OK. After all you’ve been through, you can see why I’d be concerned, correct?”

  “Yes. This is nothing like that.”

  She blew out a sigh. “OK. Then, let’s start over. Hello, Grace. It’s nice to see you again.”

  I chuckled. “It’s nice to see you again too. I’m sorry. I need to start warning people. Problem is, I don’t remember it’s there until the horror flashes across someone’s face.”

  “It looks like it hurts. I’m surprised you don’t think about it all the time.”

  “It happened on Wednesday, so it feels a lot better.”

  “That’s good. Come on back to my office.”

  I followed her down a narrow hallway to the room I’d become all-too familiar with over the past year. She closed the door behind me as I sat in an armchair near the window. After a few minutes of polite chitchat filled with my weak excuses of how busy I’d been since I’d last seen her, she folded her hands over her crossed knee. “So how have you been since the divorce was finalized?”

  “Better. I think I’ve grieved the loss of my dog more than anything, so that must say a lot about my marriage.”

  I told her the whole story of how Clay had gotten Bodhi in the divorce, how I had dognapped him the night I moved out, and how I’d been sneaking dog visitations behind Clay’s back.

  “What prompted you to call me today?” she asked eventually.

  My face fell. “I really thought I was over him. Then I saw him this weekend with the woman he had the affair with. She’s very pregnant now, and they just got engaged.” I took a deep breath to steel my nerves. “I sort of fell apart after that.”

  “Understandably,” she said.

  “I really thought I was getting past the baby stuff, you know?”

  “I’m not sure that’s something you completely ever get past. You’re coming to terms with it, but the grief process of infertility is long. And so cruel a reminder of what might have been, would be unbearable for anyone.”

  “To make it worse, it happened while I was on a date with his best friend.” Even to me, that sounded terrible. “I guess I should say his ex-best friend.”

  “How did that go?” she asked.

  “Clay was pissed.” I couldn’t contain a smile.

  She pointed her pen at me. “I see that grin on your face.”

  I ran my hand down my face to draw my lips back into a frown. “I know, but that’s not the reason I’m dating Jason.”

  “What is the reason you’re dating him?”

  It was a good question. I thought for a moment so I could give it a good answer. “Because he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world.”

  “That’s always a good quality to have in a man. Why do you think it’s the first thing that comes to mind for you?”

  My shoulders sank. “Probably because of what Clay did to me.”

  She pressed her lips together and stared at me for a long while, probably to let my own admission sink in. “Give yourself some grace, Grace,” she said with a gentle smile. “You’ve been through a lot this year. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to your heart. And be careful with this new guy. The last thing your divorce needs is any more victims.”

  I thought you were supposed to feel better after leaving your shrink’s office. I plopped into the driver seat of my car and started the engine. Before putting it in reverse to pull out, I checked my phone.

  There were no new messages from Clay, but there was a missed call from Sylvia’s home number and a text message from my brother.

  Garrett: Call me when you get a chance.

  I dialed his cell phone.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed you. What’s up?”

  “So I finally made a decision,” he said.

  My brain was scrambling. “Decision about what?”

  “A decision about letting the girls join the roller derby team.” He sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “I think I’ll let them do it. Can you help me get their gear? I want it to be a surprise for Christmas.”

  “Absolutely! This is so exciting!”

  “Remember, it’s a secret. So don’t say anything and spoil Christmas.”

  “I won’t. I have practice tonight, so I’ll find a way to get in touch with their coach and figure out exactly what they need.”

  “Thanks, Grace. Hey, what’s your plan for Christmas?”

  “I was thinking about spending the night at Mom and Dad’s on Christmas Eve. Why? What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “I’d like for you to be there when they open their gifts. Maybe we’ll sleep over there too.”

  “Mom would love it.”

  “If we do, we are ordering takeout.”

  I laughed. “No argument here.”

  “I’ve got to run. Let me know what the coach has to say.”

  “I will. Love you, brother.”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  When I ended the call, I immediately redialed Sylvia’s number. A woman answered on the second ring. “Sinclair residence.”

  “Hi, this is Grace Evans. I believe I missed a call from Sylvia.”

  “Yes. Hello, Miss Evans. Mrs. Sinclair would like to invite you to lunch tomorrow. Here, at her house, at noon.”

  I blinked. Lunch at Sylvia’s? “Sure, I’d love to.”

  “Excellent. I’ll let her know. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” I stared at the phone in my hand for a second, then finally dropped it into my purse and pulled out of the driveway. On my way back to the interstate, I passed my old house again.

  This time, Clay was nowhere in sight.

  I walked into the Sweatshop a little later than usual for practice that night. Half the team seemed to be on skates, while the other half were still wearing their tennis shoes. Monica and Lucy were already skating the track, so I rushed to put on my gear and then skated out to join them.

  Monica looked at the clock as I skated over. “Cutting it close tonight, aren’t we?”

  “I was desperately trying to finish an order before I left the store. Have I missed anything?”

  “We’re skating with Medusa tonight. The All-Star team is working out off-skates.”

  I looked around for Lucy. She was talking with eL’s Bells from the marketing team.

  “How did things go today with your therapist?” Monica asked.

  I wobbled my head from side to side. “Not as well as I’d hoped, but I did get some good news afterward.”

  Her brow lifted in question.

  “My brother is going to let my nieces play junior derby. Do you know how I can get in touch with Full Metal Jackie?”

  “Actually, I had planned on taking Maisie to watch them scrimmage tomorrow night. Want to join?”

  I thought about my schedule and how many more dresses I had to make. “What time is it?”

  “Their practice starts at six, but the scrimmage doesn’t start until seven.”

  “OK. I can do that.”

  A whistle blasted around the concrete room. We looked around and saw Medusa walking toward the track. “The Rising Rollers will be with me tonight!” she announced. “Let’s get warmed up!”

  After a decent warm-up on the track, Medusa divided the members of the B-team into four groups and positioned us at the four different corners of the track. Each group was assigned a position. Two groups were blockers. The other two were pivots and jammers respectively. The jammers and the pivots had to work together as teammates to get the jammers through the two opposing blockers.

  It was a really great way to break down gameplay and hone our skills as each group rotated through each position.

  When we were done, Medusa checked the clock. “27 in 5s!”

  Monica’s whole body slumped beside me. “Dammit.”

  With a grin, I slapped her on the
back. “I’ll count for you if you’ll count for me.”

  “OK. But you’re going first.”

  Neither of us had done 27 in 5s since we passed our skills test in October. The object was to skate at least twenty-seven laps in five minutes or less. The exercise was brutal, but crucial to building endurance for gameplay.

  I skated just short of twenty-eight laps, which was less than usual, but my ass bruise started throbbing somewhere around lap fifteen. When I finished, I dropped to my knees beside Monica and plopped over onto my left hip.

  She smacked my helmet. “Good job, Grace.”

  I was panting. “Your turn. You’ve got this.”

  She groaned as she got up, and she skated out to the track.

  Lucy came over and sat beside me with her water. She was even more breathless than me. “I don’t think…I’ll ever enjoy…that shit.”

  I smiled. “I know I won’t.”

  When she finished what was left in her water bottle, she was finally able to speak evenly. “Hey, Olivia wanted me to tell everyone she’s having a New Year’s Eve party at Lettuce Eat. All you can eat and drink off a limited menu for fifty dollars from nine till midnight. I told Monica before practice, and I think she’s coming. West and I will be there too, of course.”

  “Sounds like fun. I’ll talk to Jason and let you know.”

  Medusa blew the starting whistle, and the girls on the track started to sprint. Monica started out strong but stumbled on lap thirteen just as Medusa yelled out the midpoint warning.

  I sat up on my kneepads. “Push harder, Monica! That’s fourteen!”

  “Fifteen!”

  “Sixteen!”

  “Seventeen!”

  Monica was back in derby stance with her head down and her eyes forward. Her stride was getting longer, a good sign.

  “Eighteen!”

  “Nineteen!”

  “Twenty!”

  “Twenty-One!”

  “Twenty-Two!

  “Twenty-Three!”

  “Final minute!” Medusa shouted.

  “Twenty-Four!”

  “Twenty-Five!”

  “Twenty-Six!”

  “Twenty-Seven!”

  “Twenty-Eight!”

  The whistle blew.

  I clapped my wrist guards together as Monica rolled toward me. “Personal…best,” she said, lifting her arms in the air.