Under the Bleachers: A Novel

by K. K. Allen

  He nods, his expression changing from a cocky to something a bit sweeter. I don’t know for sure, but I think I can trust him. “I won’t say anything, Monica. Your secret is safe with me.”

  It seems like he might say more, but the bell to the front door rings, and his eyes are pulled in that direction. “You’ll have fun here. I promise.” He winks and then excuses himself to greet the new students.

  I believe him. I can feel it already. The excitement of something new. The rush of adrenaline facing the unknown. To some, it’s just a cooking class. To me, it’s the beginning of many changes to come.

  My smile is huge as I run home from school to change my clothes. After receiving a message from my dad asking to meet at our favorite coffee shop, I’m flying high.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to see him again. What is that now, five times?”

  Maggie is lying on her stomach on my couch with a magazine in front of her, legs up in the air, wearing nothing but a pair of boy shorts and a sports bra. Not a single ounce of fat on her. Not that I can be too jealous after seeing what she does to stay thin. It’s disgusting. Salad with no dressing should be a felony. Not even salt and pepper to give the damn leaves some flavor. She’s like a frickin’ rabbit. But she also doesn’t exercise, something I actually enjoy.

  “Maggie,” I warn.

  She sighs. We went over this the last time I left to meet up with him too. I never keep it from her, and I always give her a chance to come, but she’s not ready. She may never be ready, and I’m fine with that. I’m doing this for me, not for anyone else.

  “Don’t lecture me about mooching again,” she warns, because that’s always where the conversation leads. She tells me she doesn’t understand how I can give our father a chance after what he did, and I tell her she can’t come here, mooch off me, and then tell me how to feel.

  “Then don’t lecture me about Dad.”

  She sits up so that she can fully face me, her expression carrying the same worry it always does. “It’s just weird, M. After what he did—”

  I shake my head. “It’s not like that, Mags. We’re just meeting for coffee. It’s not a big deal. It’s kind of nice being in the same room with him again. I can’t explain it. But he’s trying. You can’t be mad at him forever, especially if you can so easily forgive Mom for her part in it all.”

  Maggie frowns, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why the steel wall of resistance. She should be mad at mom.

  “She was hurt and trying to protect us like mothers do, M. Stop blaming Mom. She isn’t the one who left us for another family.”

  “No she wasn’t, but I wouldn’t call ‘cutting off ties with me because I want to see my father again’ protecting me.”

  “She doesn’t understand why you need this,” Maggie pleads. “After everything she did to make sure he wouldn’t hurt us again, you just threw it in her face by moving here.”

  This is the part of the conversation where I always get upset. “She shouldn’t have kept him from us, no matter what.”

  Anger heats her skin. “He cheated on her and started a new—”

  “Maybe she didn’t appreciate him. Did you ever think about that? The point is, he didn’t willfully leave us.”

  “He’s brainwashed you, sis. He was a grown man. He chose to leave.”

  “She kicked him out! And then had his rights taken away.” I place my hands on my hips. “She made us change our names, Mags. I can’t keep doing this with you. If you don’t want to see him, I won’t make you. But if you’re going to live here, then don’t you dare tell me what to do or how to feel.”

  She pouts and then rolls her eyes. No one would ever know she was the older sister by her behavior. Once a brat, always a brat. “Fine. Have a nice afternoon with Daddy Dearest.”

  With a grunt and a slam of the door behind me, I’m out. This would have been so much easier if she had just stayed in California. I’m tempted to say her timing is awful, but I know why she’s really here. She came after hearing about my run-in with Dad, and she wanted to protect me.

  I love my sister, but we don’t need to live together. She’s been here for three months, and her job search has turned up null so far. She just hangs around my apartment, watches television, and goes to one failed audition after the other. She’s taken over every room in my house, and somehow she’s managed to slip into my bed every night. Girl is clingy too, always trying to spoon me.

  And how the hell does she manage to fit into all my clothes? Sure, everything a little too short and baggier on her, but she makes it work as if it was made for her.

  The last thing I need on top of all that is her opinion on how I handle this relationship with my father. The truth is, I’m happy. Nothing can ever undo the past, but the forgiving part is easier than I ever imaged—especially after reading all the letters he wrote Maggie and me. I don’t think Maggie has even opened one, but I’m confident she’ll give in eventually. I know her too well.

  I find Dad in the back of the café, his head hidden under his Seattle hat. As I approach, he glances up and smiles. “Hey, M.” Then he looks down and immediately starts laughing when he sees my shirt. “One of your new creations?”

  I look down too, almost forgetting I had a presentation in my concept development class today. A giggle bursts from my throat when I think of the positive reaction I got from my peers. My burnt out tank is simple enough, but it’s the logo I designed that stands out. We were supposed to create a brand identity that spoke to our personalities. Mine was written in script: Some people eat their feelings. I just eat cake.

  As I notice the hot cup sitting in front of my empty seat, my eyes widen. “What is this?”

  He chuckles. “Hot chocolate. Isn’t that what you always get?”

  I smile and put the steaming cup to my mouth. “You can never go wrong with hot chocolate. Thank you.”

  His smile reveals the age lines around his eyes, but other than that, he still looks the same as I remember him. Short, stocky, and baby faced, no matter how much he ages.

  “I know it’s only been a few months,” he says, “but you should know these meetings mean the world to me, M. You’ve always had the biggest, most forgiving heart. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to find you first.”

  “Dad, it’s okay. I don’t want to dwell on all of that. I just want to move forward.”

  He swallows and nods. “Becky thought—and I—well, we’d love to have you over some time. I’ve already started talking to the girls about you and Maggie. They don’t know all the details, but they know they have sisters.” He swallows again. “And they want to meet you. Both of you.” His eyes search mine. “I don’t suppose Maggie would—”

  I shake my head, wanting to roll my eyes at the conversation I just had with my sister. “She’s not ready. But I would like to meet them.”

  His entire face lights up. “Okay, then we’ll make plans.”

  I smile back and nod.

  “Now that we got that out of the way,” he says, and we both laugh “I wanted to give you this.” He pulls out an envelope from his back pocket and slides it against the table until it reaches me. “For you and your sister, if she’ll accept. There’s an extra pair too in case you want to bring some friends. I hear it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a game. You should come.”

  My jaw drops when I open the envelope to reveal a packet of Seattle home game tickets. “Dad,” I say through my tightening throat. “Why?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Zach, and it’s none of my business. But I know that boy almost as well as I know my own kids, and he hasn’t been the same lately. I saw you two together. I heard the way he talked about you, M. I’m not telling you what to do, but I do hope you’ll use these tickets to figure out what needs to be done for you both to be happy.”

  “Thank you.” Gratitude in exchange for thoughtfulness. That’s one thing I’ve learned over the past
few months. Zach would be so proud.

  My dad gives me a soft smile. “It’s my gift to you because you’ve given me something I never expected to get. You’ve given me you.”

  Tears cloud my eyes, and I set the envelope down to hug him.

  We stay embraced for the longest time while I let the rush of happiness flow through me.

  I know exactly what I’m going to do with these tickets.

  He kisses the side of my head. “I just want you to be happy, baby girl. I just want you to be happy.”

  At Seattle Stadium on game day, the excitement is palpable. When the house shakes, you can feel it coursing through your body like everything surrounding you is interconnected. Your heart is the drums; your veins, the strings; and your soul, the center of everything. Because that’s what it feels like to be here, among this crowd, watching this team. It’s everything.

  Our seats are incredible, but who needs seats when you can stand practically on the field in the southwest corner of the stadium, watching your team score a touchdown only thirty yards away? Maggie will be pissed she missed this. We’ve already been approached by three players offering to snap photos with the eager fans beside us. Even Chloe, Miss I-Don’t-Understand-Football, is getting her fangirl on and going selfie crazy.

  “Have you seen him?” she asks, eyes wide and scouring the field.

  I shake my head and wring my hands together nervously. “Not yet.” Even if I do see him, it doesn’t mean he’ll see me.

  “Hey, M! You made it.” My father approaches the short rail with a grin and I respond with a bigger one, my chest filling with pride. It’s hard not to get choked up being here. This is my first NFL game since my dad played with Dallas so many years ago. It’s surreal.

  “Dad, this is my best friend Chloe.”

  They shake hands, and Chloe’s smile is endearing as ever. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sir. The seats are incredible.”

  “Is it just you two?”

  I shake my head, frowning, because I know he was hoping I’d bring Maggie. I turn to find Gavin and Justin, who are walking down the steps toward us. Chloe introduces them while I slyly scan the field in hopes of spotting Zach. There’s still enough time before the game to see the team run some warm-ups.

  As if on cue, Zach walks out to the field, stopping every so often to toss a smile and wave at the crowd. When I take in his uniform, my heart fills my ears with its erratic pounding. His already large build looks massive due to the padding under his purple and gold jersey. No one has ever been sexier.

  My dad jogs off just as a familiar figure comes toward us with a wicked grin on his face. “No shit. The daddy’s girl is here.”

  I roll my eyes. “Hi Balko.” I quickly introduce him to my friends before focusing in on Zach. I expect him to say something that will set fire to my blood, but his expression is different from the one I remember at camp. It’s kinder.

  “Well, you sure shocked the hell out of all of us, didn’t you?”

  I blush. “Yeah, well, I didn’t mean for all that to happen.”

  He waves it away. “It was entertaining; that’s for sure. You and Nut-Zach still together after all that?”

  I hesitate before shaking my head. “No. We’re doing our own thing now.” His face changes again, back to cocky Balko, but I stop him in his tracks. “Don’t even think about it, Balko. Zach would still kill you.”

  He laughs. “You think I care?”

  When he jogs away, I’m still smiling. Chloe hugs me from the side, as if she can sense my emotions. I’m not trying to hide them. Not anymore.

  He’s chocolate and I’m cake. Okay apart, but so much sweeter together.

  “Nut-Zach, you’ve got a crazy fan waiting for you in the southeast corner. She’ll stop at nothing to get a photo.”

  I eye Balko and ball my fists. “Oh, yeah? She turn you down?”

  He smirks. “I think you’ll like this one. Go on; don’t disappoint her. She might claim you’re her baby daddy and then you’ll have another media scandal on your hands.”

  I walk away. I don’t need this shit today. I woke up with a stiff neck after falling asleep scrolling through Monica’s new Instagram account. I know she had one before, but she must have gotten rid of it after the PR disaster. This feed is filled with new photos. Photos of her new clothing designs, her new friends. There’s even one of her at home in an apron. To be honest, that one kind of pissed me off.

  Although we’ve kept in contact, the boundary lines are thicker than ever. She’s happy building her new life, and I’m happy that she’s happy. But I’m resentful of the fact that she can’t seem to fit me in beyond the occasional cute selfie when I ask for it.

  I’m also tired, and I need to figure out how to turn my attitude around to win us this game.

  I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything that evolved after camp. My biggest regret is ever doubting Monica. She wasn’t using me. There’s not a scandalous bone in her body. It was always me pushing for more until she finally admitted she wanted more too.

  A strong hand lands on my shoulder, dismantling my thoughts. “Where’s your head, Zachary?” Coach asks, his tone terse but gentle. When I don’t answer, he reaches up to place his arm around my neck and drags me away with him, my body still stiff with anger. “Walk with me for a second.”

  I let him drag me across the field, not questioning a thing. We’re about to kick off pre-season, but everything feels wrong. Like I’m missing my heart.

  Finally, I sigh and turn to him. “I’ll be fine, Coach. Just dealing with some things, but I’ll get it out of my head before the game. Promise.”

  His nod is slow and measured. “Would it help or hurt if I told you my daughter came to the game today?”

  Shit. There’s a storm in my chest at just the thought of seeing her again. “Depends why she’s here, Sir.”

  “Southeast corner. You have ten minutes to find out, and then I want your head in the game, ready to throw some rockets.”

  Coach winks and walks away, leaving me on the sidelines with lightning and thunder sounding off inside me. I’m not sure if I’m walking into the storm or away from one.

  Either way, I take off, jogging to the southeast VIP seating. I spot her immediately. Heavy breaths don’t slow my adrenaline, and neither does seeing the way she laughs with Chloe as they snap a photo together.

  My Cakes. That smile.

  God, I’ve missed her.

  As she sees me approach, her smile fades but her eyes brighten. “Hey you,” she says like she’s been expecting me. Is she here for me? “Guess there are benefits to being the coach’s daughter after all.”

  I smile. A giant smile that grows from the inside and blooms just for her. My fingers land on the rail beside her hand, but I make no move to touch her. My name is being called from all directions, but my focus is on the girl in the number four Seattle jersey. Is it awful to love my own jersey so much?

  “Guess so. Glad you could make it to a game.”

  When a soft finger lands on mine, I intake air sharply in surprise. My eyes flicker down to where she’s touching me, and then back up to her face. It takes everything in me not to yank her down from the rail and kiss those soft lips. It’s all I want, but I still don’t know if she wants the same thing.

  “I have something for you,” she says nervously as she pulls a light blue envelope from her back pocket. She starts to hand it to me then pulls it to her chest. “I can hold onto it if you want to grab it after the game.”

  Well, this is promising. “Okay, then. I’ll come by as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.”

  I turn to go, on an instant high from just a few seconds with her.

  “Wait, Zach. One more thing,” she calls.

  I jog back, pressing myself against the rail. “What is it, Cakes?”

  Her smile is beautiful as she responds to the nickname. She leans in, taking my breath away when she tou
ches her cheek to mine and speaks into my ear. “I came to see you win, so … good luck.” I feel her lips curl up into a smile as they press firmly into my cheek. “No pressure.”

  When I pull away, the air is sizzling with a chemistry that never went away. Of course it didn’t. It’s just been patiently brewing this whole time, waiting for that last ingredient to activate.

  I’ve never been one of those girls who dreamed of her own fairytale, of a guy sweeping her off her feet. I still don’t believe in fairytales, but for the first time in a long time I believe in love. And I believe that Zach has owned my heart from that very first night we spent together, when he wanted to peel away something other than my clothes. No one has ever cared to look that close.

  This afternoon when the game ended, he came straight for me and didn’t stop until his lips were on mine. When he stepped onto the rail and pulled me in for the kiss that would be the envy of millions of women everywhere, I knew that was it.

  This is what it feels like to get swept away.

  My footwork is quick as I prepare the last of the four-course meal. Green apple salad, house-smoked salmon, and grilled mahi-mahi. And of course … dessert.

  Desmond gave me a list of Zach’s favorite dishes and let me have full use of the kitchen for the night. As freaked out as I am to be using a kitchen sans supervision, I only needed to call Desmond for help three times. So I’m kinda killin’ it.

  After Zach took my breath away with that very public kiss, I handed him the envelope, slapped him on the butt, and sent him on his way to talk to reporters. Not five minutes later, I had a text message accepting the invite to dinner.

  When I see Zach’s shadow reach the door right before seven, happiness and nervous flutters wreak havoc in my stomach. The food is warming, the table is set, the salad is tossed, our wine is on the island, and dessert is ready.

  I’m ready.