The Soccer Player and the Single Mom (Quail Hollow)

by Kyra Jacobs

  Pain had turned into anger, which gradually turned into shouting and John getting physical, demanding more medication. What had seemed like the perfect little Shaw trifecta began to crumble. She started to pull away, to put more distance between John and the baby, for fear that he’d go after her and accidentally hurt Tyler.

  “The night of his overdose, we’d argued for the hundredth time over whether or not it was time for his next round of pain medication. He’d yelled so loud it was nearly a scream, but I tried to stick to my guns. When I insisted he had two hours to go, John grabbed the closest thing to him and chucked it at me. It was a half-filled glass coin jar; I was holding Tyler in my arms.”

  She opened her eyes and found Scott’s hands balled into fists. But she didn’t want him to be mad at John. It was the addiction talking, not the man.

  “Thankfully, he was weak and his aim off, so I dodged it easily enough. He realized what he’d done when the jar shattered into the wall behind us and begged me to forgive him…then went right back to demanding his next dose. Scared out of my mind, I left a few pills out on the kitchen counter, grabbed Tyler and his diaper bag, and headed to Lauren’s.”

  Felicity shook her head. No amount of self-talk or preparation for their next encounter could have prepared her for what she found: John, facedown and cold on the floor beside their bed, a half-empty bottle of pills on a nearby nightstand.

  “I came back the next morning to try and talk him into counseling, to get help, but it was too late. He’d found some forgotten painkillers I had left over from when Tyler was born.”

  She should have seen the warning signs, should have hidden every pill in the house. Had she not been a sleep-deprived, frazzled new mother, she surely would have. But between the fatigue and the fighting, she simply hadn’t anticipated an overdose…

  Scott’s hand found hers. “I’m so sorry.”

  Felicity nodded, wishing the story had ended differently but knowing it never could. “I know I get a little overprotective with Tyler sometimes. Most of the time, really. But I can’t bear the thought of losing him, too. I overreacted earlier, and I’m sorry about that. I was scared.”

  “Honestly?” he said. “I was scared, too. And sick to my stomach. I never meant for him to get hurt.”

  “It was an accident, though. Not your fault. So please, let me apologize, and maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”

  “Come here.”

  Scott opened his arms, and she went willingly, crawling beside him for some much-needed reassurance. He pulled her close, his spicy, clean scent washing over her. It’d been so long since she’d been held like this, made to feel safe and protected.

  “I’m so sorry Tyler got hurt,” he whispered, resting his cheek atop her head.

  “Me, too.” She swallowed hard. Not only had he been quick to apologize and quick to forgive, but he also truly cared about her son. In the beginning, she’d tried to keep a safe emotional distance from Scott, but with each passing day, she felt her control slipping. It was like driving her car across a sheet of ice and then applying the brakes—she’d lost her traction. “We ran out of time to get his glasses fixed. We’ll have to run into town tomorrow after school.”

  “Maybe I could go with you, help pick out a more durable pair? Even bubble-wrapped, he might need something a little stronger.”

  She grinned. “He’s insisting I let him be a kid and play. I’m just…it’s going to take some getting used to, you know?”

  “Yeah. But he’ll be better for it in the long run. Happier, more confident.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered.

  “He will.” Scott tipped her chin upward. “Trust me.”

  She nodded, her breath catching at how close his lips were to hers. He closed the gap between them, and she melted beneath his tender kiss. If their spats always led to them kissing and making up, she’d be tempted to yell at him more often. But as his kisses quickly grew stronger, she was reminded that their time together was growing short. Scott pulled her closer and kissed his way to her ear.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.

  Felicity knew it would be best to bid him good night, safer to start working more distance between them so the pain would be less when he did head back to Columbus. And yet, while her brain was saying no, her lonely heart whispered yes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Felicity stood in her room, trying to get ready to leave. It was Friday, Bingo night, and Edna wouldn’t be happy if they were late. While she was there, Felicity and Tyler were going over to Lauren’s again so the kids could play while the women scoured more job sites together. And Scott? Well, he was going out with the guys. Something told her she shouldn’t admit that to his agent, who was on the phone with her now wanting an update on his condition.

  “So give it to me straight—is he ready to come back?” J.B. asked.

  “I don’t think so. Dr. Bedi hasn’t lifted his restrictions on running yet.”

  “Yes, yes, I know that. But is he better?”

  Felicity frowned. For someone who seemed intent on giving Scott room to heal, J.B. was being awfully pushy today.

  “He’s getting better, yes. But the added movements haven’t been easy on him. His knee swells up like a bowling ball when he’s been on his feet for too long. We’re icing it as much as we can, of course, and doing ibuprofen as needed.”

  “So, how much longer before he starts running?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe next week?” A soft curse rang out on the other end. “J.B., what’s going on?”

  “Look, I called you because I didn’t want to worry Scott, but his manager is expecting him back here on Monday, ready to rejoin the team.”

  “What?”

  “Well, the team trainer told him to hold off another two weeks. Scott decided on his own to get a second opinion, but Dr. Bedi’s recommendation was additional time off. I’d hoped bringing you on would help speed up the healing, but it doesn’t sound like that’s happened.”

  Speed up his healing? She was a PA, not a miracle-worker!

  Felicity paced the floor, wishing there was something more she could do. Because Scott couldn’t go back on Monday—he wasn’t ready. While he had made progress this week, and was limping and grimacing less and less with each passing day, the time spent on both feet was limited. No way could he run back and forth across the field for ninety minutes. Heck, she wasn’t even sure if he could run to the mailbox and back yet.

  “You’re his agent. Isn’t there anything you can do? Push for an extension or something?”

  “Trust me, I’m trying. The last thing I want to do is bring him back too early and watch that knee get reinjured. But we’ve got to go by his contract. If the team trainer clears him, then he’s expected on the field.”

  “But if the team trainer doesn’t see him…”

  “…he can’t be cleared.” J.B. chuckled. “Love your wit, kid. I’ll see if I can’t hold off his reassessment a few more days. In the meantime, get that boy of ours running.”

  Felicity disconnected, unease washing over her. She didn’t like the idea of Scott’s agent rushing his recovery, not until Dr. Bedi gave him the all clear. But she didn’t want to sabotage Scott’s career, either. She’d talk it over with him, help weigh the pros and cons, but it’d have to wait until tomorrow.

  Tonight, they both had plans.

  She gathered her laptop and headed downstairs to find Tyler and Edna sitting together on the couch, laughing over something Bruno was doing at their feet. The sight brought a smile to her face. With John’s parents gone, and hers not in the picture, Tyler had grown up not knowing the joy that grandparents could bring. Felicity hoped Edna would let them come and visit after Scott was gone; she’d quickly become a staple in their family.

  “You guys about ready to go?”

  “Ready?” Edna said.

  Tyler grinned at her. “Why, we were born ready.”

  The duo shared a fist bump, each patted B
runo on the head, then started for the front door. Oh yes, they were definitely going to stay close with Edna. She’d hate to see the bond formed between them fall by the wayside.

  “You heading out?”

  Felicity turned to find Scott stepping out of the kitchen as the others made their way outside, powdered sugar on the right corner of his mouth.

  “Yeah, don’t want to be late to Bingo, you know. And what have you been eating?”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  She laughed and stepped forward to brush it away. His scent wrapped around her, and her hand paused at his chin. Scott caught her by the waist and pulled her close.

  “Is it gone?”

  “What?” she said.

  “Whatever you were reaching for.”

  Her gaze slid to his lips. “Not sure. Maybe I should kiss you, to make sure I really got it all.”

  Scott grinned, lowering his face to hers. “Fine by me.”

  She stretched on her tiptoes to kiss him, then ran her tongue along the corner of his mouth. His hands curled into the fabric at her shorts on a groan.

  “You do things like that, and I might not let you leave.”

  “What, you mean like this?” She slid her lips across his and licked the other corner.

  Scott wove his fingers into her hair with a growl and kissed her breathless.

  “Silly me, forgot my… Oh.”

  They froze at the sound of Edna’s voice. Felicity tried to step back, but Scott held her in place. Shuffled footsteps crossed the floor.

  “Got what you need, Grandma?” he asked.

  “Indeed I do.”

  “Good,” he said, grinning down at Felicity. “Then go wait in the car so I can finish kissing Felicity goodbye.”

  Edna chuckled softly, her footsteps retreating. “About damn time.”

  “We’re in trouble now,” Felicity whispered. “How long before she calls the minister?”

  Scott kissed her forehead. “No idea, but if we see a strange car pull into the driveway tomorrow, we’re making a run for it. Deal?”

  She laughed, loving his sense of humor. Loving…him. Waking in his arms at dawn this morning, she realized the fall she’d been trying to avoid had already happened. What came next, she didn’t know. Only that she was tired of denying her feelings for him. Secretly, she hoped he felt the same way about her. Because if he did, overcoming the obstacles to a future together would require compromise on both their parts. If he didn’t, well, she’d healed on her own once. She could do it again.

  “Deal.”

  …

  Scott sat along the bar’s rail at La Casa Queso that night, attention divided between his old buddies and the big screen mounted above the bar’s far end. Columbus was playing Seattle, the game tied two-two with fifteen minutes left in regulation. His team had struck early, one goal off a corner kick and the other from a deep, midfielder strike, but their offense had stalled out after halftime. Columbus needed a win to continue in the playoffs, but secretly he was only cheering for two of the three forwards on the field. The third was his backup and the last person he wanted to see score a winning goal.

  A play like that might earn him a starting spot in the playoff games and leave Scott’s own chances at returning with any amount of playing time in the lurch.

  “The kid’s looking pretty good, amigo.”

  Scott threw Sawyer a dark look. “He’s young and cocky.”

  “So is half the team.”

  “Young, yes. Cocky, not so much.” Sure, every team had a few over-inflated egos, but the team captains did a solid job of keeping arrogance in check and heads in the game. No doubt they’d soon tame Mason Herrera, too.

  “You sure you want to go back?” Sawyer said.

  “What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure.”

  Scott reached for his Corona and took a long drag. Yes, he was sure. Absolutely, positively, 100 percent sure. He licked his lips, and the memory of Felicity’s kiss goodbye hit him out of nowhere. Temporary, he told himself. That’s all we can be.

  “You really want to risk it?”

  “Sawyer, we all take risks, every single day. You still play, you know how it is.”

  “Sí, but I also don’t have all my eggs in one basket. If a shot takes me out, I’ve got things to fall back on.”

  Scott knew a sales pitch when he heard one, and if it’d been anyone else, he’d change seats. But because it was Sawyer, he decided to play along. He watched Columbus give up the ball yet again and looked at his friend. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  “Like being operating manager for the Sports Academy up in Auburn.”

  “No kidding? Congratulations, man. Definitely a step up from vacuum cleaners.”

  “Smart-ass,” Sawyer said into his beer. “And thanks. Been there several months now, really helping turn the place around. We’ve got an indoor field, a gymnastics room, rock climbing walls…tons of stuff for kids and parents both to do.”

  Scott nodded, keeping one eye on the television. Columbus had the ball back, eight minutes to go. “Nice. So what do you do?”

  “Recruit, man. Always looking to bring in new clubs. Gotta keep the schedule full if we wanna stay in the black. There’s some other administrative crap I have to do, and in a pinch, I’ll coach a class here and there, but mostly I’m out trying to bring in new business. And when I’m not doing any of that, I’m playing.”

  He wished he were playing now, too. Seattle kept leaving the door open on the far right—he would have drilled at least one in from near the corner by now. “For the Fever, right? You like it okay out there?”

  “Yeah, it’s fun, keeps me active. But Scottie, Fort Wayne’s making a push for a second NASL team to come to Indiana. Indy’s got a team, and we want one up here, too. Rumor has it they’ve secured two big-name contributors. If this goes through, Fort Wayne will get a team and a mammoth new indoor facility like what they have down in Westfield at Grand Park.”

  “No kidding?” Scott had gone there last year to cheer on his alma mater at the Big Ten Soccer Championship. The place was amazing, with three immaculate, full-length indoor fields and dozens more outdoors. Was there really enough support in northern Indiana for something like that? “Wow, good luck, man.”

  “Thanks. You know, if the petition goes through, they’ll be looking for solid players to join the team.”

  And there it was—Sawyer’s reason for inviting him out. But Scott already had a team he loved playing for, not to mention one that probably paid three times more than an NASL team could offer him. Money wasn’t everything, but a step down would wound his pride. He gave his friend a clap on the shoulder. “And I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you, bro.”

  “Thanks, hermano. But—”

  “You should reach out to some of our IU guys, too,” added Scott. “Dylan, he’d be a solid sweeper. And you can’t beat Rodriguez in midfield.”

  “Already reached out to them. Really, we’ve got most of the team tentatively lined up. Just have a few holes to fill up front. Specifically, right wing.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re looking at the wrong guy for that position. The only way I’m leaving Columbus is if they force me out.” Though, the way my backup is playing, it might happen sooner than I’d like.

  The volume on the TV rose, claiming Scott’s full attention. Columbus had just stolen the ball and was on a fast break. Tomás passed to an open Herrera, but the sweeper was coming in hot.

  “Man on,” Scott whispered. “Watch your back, rookie.”

  Herrera dished off a quick give-and-go to their midfielder, Smith, who passed it right back. But the play didn’t fool Seattle’s sweeper, who slid for the ball…and took out Herrera along the way. A round of pained ooos rang out along the bar. Play stopped, and time slowed to a standstill as the injured rookie remained on the ground, writhing in pain.

  Get up, Scott silently pleaded. Get up.

  “Oh, this doesn�
��t look good for the young striker,” said the announcer. “As the trainer comes out onto the field, we can only wonder who will fill his spot as Columbus may have lost their second right wing in as many months.”

  Scott drained his drink, knowing full well who would be expected to fill that spot if Herrera was out for any length of time. It’d be him, called back early. This late in the season, with a team already thinned by injuries, there was no one else. Then again, if they didn’t pull off a win, their season might end tonight.

  A midfielder was sent in from the bench to take the penalty kick…which went in as time ran out. Columbus won, three to two. They were headed to the playoffs and in need of a right wing for next Thursday’s game. In an instant, his worries about getting replaced transformed into ones about getting reinjured.

  It was too soon, he wasn’t ready.

  “You really want to go back to that, amigo?” Sawyer said. “The major leagues, they’re out for blood.”

  “And you’re saying the NASL would be any different?”

  Sawyer shrugged, unwilling to give up his push to get Scott to step down from the majors. Which he didn’t want to do. Heck, even if he did, he had a contract to fulfill. As if tapped into his thoughts, his cell phone buzzed on the bar top. J.B.’s name lit the screen.

  “Sorry, Sawyer, I need to take this one.”

  He eased from the barstool in search of someplace quiet, his emotions conflicted. This was the moment he’d waited for since getting sidelined—getting the call to come back, given the opportunity to resume his rightful place on the field and keep striving for his goals. So why wasn’t he jumping for joy or doing cartwheels down the back hall?

  Felicity.

  He hadn’t meant to fall for her, hadn’t meant for their relationship grow into anything more than a fling, but it had. She was the last person he thought about at night and the first face he hoped to see each morning. Could he really go back to living his old life, allowing soccer to be his one and only master?