Wide Open

by Tracey Ward

  “Tommy isn’t a saint, though. He lost everything for you and then he tried to hide it.” She holds up her hand to stop me as I open my mouth to argue. “And I know, he told you to your face that he did it, but not until he couldn’t avoid it. That’s like if he caught you and Kyla having sex and you admitted that it was happening. You’re not brave at that point. You’re boxed into a corner, and it sounds like that’s where Tommy was. Trapped.”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter who was to blame for what, does it? It’s over. It’s done.”

  “Do you ever think about calling him up and telling him the truth?”

  Every single day, I think bitterly.

  “Yes,” I answer simply.

  “I can’t believe he never got in touch with you. He woke up and you were gone and he just accepted that?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Harper waits, but I don’t elaborate. Finally she pushes gently, “What happened?”

  I rip a piece of my donut free, stalling. But once I touch it, it feels heavy in my hand. My stomach turns at the thought of it and I drop it down onto the counter. Its bright yellow insides escape onto the counter like spilt sunshine.

  “He sent me letters,” I tell her, wiping my hands against each other to dislodge the sticky sugar clinging to them. “I changed my number and he didn’t know where I was living, so he sent them to Hollis’ office. Kyla told him I didn’t want to talk to him or see him because of what he’d done to me. Every letter said he was sorry for ruining my life. He said he felt like shit. He told me not to forgive him. And every letter had a check in it.”

  “He sent you money trying to make up for what he’d done,” she guesses accurately.

  “Random amounts every time. He said it was everything he had to spare.”

  “Does he still send them?”

  I shrug, rubbing my hands together again. They still feel dirty. “I don’t know. Probably. My second year in Montana I told Hollis to send them back whenever they came. I never see them anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I sigh, sick of the topic. “What else do you want to know?”

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

  “It’s a rare offer. Take advantage of it while it lasts.”

  “How much debt is left?”

  “A million five. Give or take.”

  “That is staggering,” she balks.

  “It’s been rough,” I confirm, standing up straight. I feel taller when I do. Taller than I’ve felt in years. “I’ve started building a savings though, trying to get ready for the future. I can’t play ball forever. One good injury and I’m finished. ”

  “What will you do when that happens? Will you move back to New Jersey?”

  I laugh loudly. “No. God no. I’m never going back there. I might not stay in L.A. but I’ll stick around California. This is home for me. I missed it when I was in Montana. When I’m on the road and I’m homesick, it’s for California.”

  “What about flipping houses?” She glances at the nightstand crammed full of books. “You’ve obviously got an interest in it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’d have to try it on my own place first. Find out if I’m any good.”

  She smiles at me encouragingly. “I think you’ll be amazing.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I think you’re amazing at everything you do.”

  I grin thinly. “You’re biased.”

  “I massively am. Yes.”

  I hesitate, that heavy feeling in my stomach rising. Growing. “Can I ask you a question now?”

  “Always,” she agrees without hesitation.

  “Did it change how you see me?”

  Harper is slow to answer. She thinks the question over carefully, her eyes fading and falling out of focus. She finally looks at me solidly. “It did. It does change how I see you, but not in a bad way. I see more of you now. I understand some things I didn’t before and that feels good. I want to know you. All of you.”

  “Even the ugly?”

  “I told you, no story is ugly. You were honest and that’s beautiful to me. I’m not going to lie; it wasn’t easy to watch that video, especially hearing you talk about Kyla. But I’m sure it was even harder to film it and I’m glad you trusted me enough to do it. I’m not judging you for your past any more than you judged me for mine when I told you about Derrick.”

  I’m stunned by the comparison because I seriously never would have made it. She was the victim. I was the villain.

  “What happened to you wasn’t your fault,” I tell her earnestly. “This is your daily reminder. You aren’t to blame.”

  “And you aren’t the only one to blame for what happened to you. It took three of you to make the mess you got yourselves into. More if you include the faceless leaches in your entourage, and I do.”

  “I don’t see it that way.”

  “I know, but I do.” She smiles sweetly. “And I’m going to remind you of it every day until you do too. We’ll remind each other that we’re better than we think and hopefully someday with each other’s help, we’ll see ourselves in a better light than we do right now.”

  My body is showered in a rain of relief as she talks about the future. One where there’s an us. One where I’ve got a shot at redeeming myself. Where I’m allowed to protect her like she’s mine because she is. And I’m hers.

  But if that’s true, then why is she packed?

  I look to her bag by the bed. “It looks like you’re leaving.”

  Her smile falters but she doesn’t look away. “I am. Travis is coming to get me in an hour.”

  “Are you going to stay at his place?”

  “I’m going to Foxborough.”

  I scowl, my blood rising. “Where Derrick is living?”

  “Not anymore he’s not. Travis works fast. After I texted him last night he got in touch with our contact at the NFL network. They got the landlord of the apartment they’re renting for Derrick to open it up and let the guys on the crew there empty it into a container. It’s been taken to a storage facility somewhere. He has thirty days to clear it out before it all goes to auction.”

  “If that’s all taken care of, why are you going there?”

  “I’m taking over Derrick’s job. Travis will take over mine as director here in L.A. I’m going to live and work in Foxborough with the Patriots for the rest of the season.” She hesitates, biting the corner of her lip. “I leave this afternoon.”

  “So we do what?” I ask tightly, trying to be cool about it. “We wait until this season is over and you don’t have a conflict anymore? We’re pen pals? I’m not saying I won’t wait for you, Harper, but shit, the season isn’t over for another three months. Four if we make the Super bowl.”

  “With editing, we’re six months away from the end of my contract.”

  “Shit,” I repeat miserably.

  “The Kodiaks play the Patriots two weeks from now,” she reasons, almost pleading. “Give me those two weeks to get things sorted out over there. I’ll have to go through all of Derrick’s footage to get a grasp of where they’re at. I have to meet the team and the coaches and the staff. I have to get a sense of their dynamic, of where they are mentally and emotionally. It’s a lot to take on and I need this time to get myself immersed in it. Can you give me that long?”

  I blink down at her, lost. “Until what? I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

  “I’m asking you to give me two weeks before we go public about us.”

  I stare at her, searching her face. Her eyes that burn bright and beseeching. “I thought you couldn’t while this job was going on.”

  “I couldn’t while I was heading the Kodiaks coverage. I can if I’m in Foxborough.”

  “How?”

  “Travis will take over the Kodiaks entirely. I’ll have nothing to do with your involvement or representation in the documentary. My impartiality will be a nonissue. I just need this buffer between my leaving and us coming
clean. I don’t want people knowing we were dating before I left, and I know that’s like a half-truth and I’m so sorry because I love you so much and you deserve better—“

  I kiss her soundly, silencing her explanations.

  I don’t need them. All I need is her.

  She presses her palms against the backs of my hands, holding them to her face. She’s smiling as she kisses me. Her heart shaped mouth expanding and exhaling, letting me in. Molding my lips to match hers until I’m smiling, I’m laughing, and she’s wrapping her arms around me tightly.

  “I love you too,” I murmur against her mouth, unwilling to release her. “I’m going to say it every second of every day to make up for all the times I’ve wanted to tell you but couldn’t find the courage.”

  She giggles happily. “You’re promising to do a lot of talking lately.”

  “For you I’d do anything.”

  “God, Kurtis,” she moans deep and meaningful. “That sweet shit kills me every time. Say it again.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love—Whoa!”

  I catch her by surprise when I grab her hips and lift her up onto the counter. I pull her to the edge where her legs can wrap around my waist and her heat can burn me through my jeans. She moans into my mouth. It tastes light as sugar, thick as syrup. It sends me searching, pulling at her clothes, digging for her skin that’s so silky smooth it soothes me down into my soul.

  “I love you,” I promise, stripping her bare.

  “I love you,” I groan painfully, pressing my head against her.

  “I love you,” she whispers, her voice high and harmonious as I push inside her.

  I growl in my chest, relieved and excited. Rough and eager as I slide deep inside her. Harper’s breath falters, catches in her throat, and runs away on a stream of words that sound like nothing and my name all at once. I whisper those three words to her until I can’t form them anymore. Until my sense of self is lost and I’m falling away with her. Into her. Until we’re both burning out from the inside, breathing fire. Exhaling ash that flutters around us like snowfall.

  EPILOGUE

  HARPER

  October 30th

  Gillette Stadium

  Foxborough, MA

  “You look like shit in red.”

  I laugh. “Nice. Thanks, Travis.”

  “They seriously make you wear their colors when you’re on the sidelines? Or do you want to be honest and admit that you’ve gone full native?”

  “They make us wear it. Well, not ‘make us’, but damn do they make it awkward if we don’t.”

  “That’s hilarious,” he laughs at me.

  “It’s coercion is what it is.” I look down with disdain at the puffy red jacket wrapped around me. October in Massachusetts is no joke. It’s barely fifty degrees in the sun, but in the shade of the bowl inside Gillette stadium, it’s closer to forty. “I either freeze or I wear their colors.”

  “I’d freeze.”

  “I’ll tell Coach Allen that.”

  “You keep the hell away from my team.”

  “’Your team’?” I ask, wide eyed. “Really? Getting kind of attached, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, well, at least I’m not sleeping with any of the players,” he mutters under his breath.

  I jab him hard in the side with my elbow. Inside all this down, I doubt it hurt the way I hoped. “Too soon, dick.”

  “Have you seen him yet today?”

  “I have.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “When and how?”

  I shrug lightly. “He’s a ninja remember? We find our ways.”

  “Is your hair wet?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, it is.” He pauses, examining me. “Matthews takes a shower before every game, doesn’t he?”

  “Does he?” I ask innocently. “I honestly can’t remember.”

  “Liar.”

  “Yep.”

  “Jesus, Harper, keep it in your pants.”

  “Don’t you have a job to do?” I demand, laughing.

  “I guess I do. I don’t want my boss to catch me slacking off.”

  “Yeah, she’d be a real bitch about it.”

  “You have no idea.” He takes me into a half hug, squeezing me tightly to his side. “I miss you. We all do.”

  I smile, leaning into him contentedly. “I miss you too.”

  “I’ll see you after the game?”

  “I’ll take you guys to dinner. My treat.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll tell the guys to come hungry.”

  Travis walks away across the field. He leaves me alone with the Patriots, taking up his position on the sidelines with the Kodiaks. I feel a pang of jealousy seeing him standing there. Sam and Lowry are behind him, talking and laughing. Colt stands silently next to Tyus. Trey sits on a bench, his eyes focused straight ahead. They’re my boys, they always will be, even if they’re not supposed to be. Every last one of them. Especially him.

  Kurtis is on the outside as always, but it’s not the way it used to be. He’s more immersed in the team than he was at the start of the season. Earlier I saw him talking to Trey, both of them with their heads down, locked in a private debate that lasted several minutes. At the end Trey hugged him. Kurtis slapped him hard on the back in a show of support. Just twenty minutes later Kurtis was doubled over laughing at something Colt was telling him.

  I’ve never seen him like that before. Totally unguarded and easy. Wide open to the world around him. To the people who love him.

  It made me smile to see it. It made me sad to be kept at such a distance.

  That’s my family across this field; the team and my crew combined.

  And I can’t wait to get home to them.

  ***

  “They’re gonna get rid of him,” Sean mutters irritably. “They can’t keep pretending he’s going to sort himself out.”

  I watch in disgust as Ramsey leaves the field in a huff. He throws his helmet petulantly before collapsing down onto the bench. One of the staff goes to talk to him, but he’s glaring at the ground. He’s not listening. He never does.

  “I think you’re right.”

  “I don’t know why they’re replacing Tyus in the first place,” Sean continues. “They’re lucky they have him to save their ass now.”

  I gnaw nervously on my thumbnail as I watch the Kodiak offense lineup for the last time against the Patriots. There are seconds left on the clock. The last play, a Hail Marry pass to Ramsey, blew up in their faces. The Kodiaks almost lost possession of the ball when he couldn’t keep it in his hands. Lucky for him Lowry threw himself on it when it popped free.

  It felt like the Chiefs game all over again when Kurtis was the one to save his ass. It’s a pattern they can’t afford to keep repeating. Especially now with this grudge match game on the line. These are the teams everyone is watching to make it to the Super Bowl. They’re the sole focus of our Road to the Ring documentary, and with matching win/loss records, this game is a pivotal moment in both their seasons.

  Kodiaks 18. Patriots 20.

  Kodiaks are fourth and long.

  They’ve been heavy hitting Kurtis, double manning him every play. He can’t get clean to take a pass from Trey, and Ramsey is basically worthless. Colt is exhausted from trying to run it through the line of scrimmage. Trey has taken two sacks in this last quarter alone. It’s a blood bath out there, worse than the Chiefs game. And it’s not over yet.

  Six seconds are on the clock as the men go to the line. Trey shouts unintelligibly. The offensive line shifts, sending the defense into a frenzy to adjust. The ball is snapped. Trey falls back. Kurtis runs up the right side, darting toward the center of the field when he’s in the end zone. He’s clear for a second, just one, and I wait impatiently for Trey to drill in the ball. But he doesn’t. He waits, falling back two more steps. He watches Tyus and in an act of what feels like pure idiocy, he sends it flying ahead of him toward the sideline. It looks like it’s going out of bounds. No way Tyus
can get there in time.

  And still somehow he does. His speed is unnatural, a thing of terrible beauty that leaves his defenders behind him. That leaves him open to leap into the air, catch the pass, and come down with one foot inside the end zone before stumbling out.

  It’s good. Touchdown Kodiaks.

  Whistles blow as the stadium erupts in cheers and boos. I smile, forcing myself to stand still. My body is itching to jump up and down, to join in the celebration, but I can’t. Right now I have a job to do, but tonight at dinner with the guys I’ll be free. I’ll be allowed to smile and celebrate. Tonight in my apartment I’ll be able to relive the moment over and over with Kurtis, discussing it with a depth of knowledge I never thought I’d have for this crazy, maddening sport. I’ll get to kiss him and congratulate him. I’ll get to see him smile proudly, happily, and I’ll commit it to memory. I’ll pull out my camera to capture the moment so I can keep it. Keep him. Always and forever.

  “Are you getting this?” I reflexively ask Sean.

  He grunts in reply, the camera focused on the reactions of the teams still on the sidelines. I leave him to it, watching as Lefao helps Tyus up off the ground. His face is harshly written, anger and resignation in every line. Lefao says something to him. Asks him something, but Tyus ignores him. He pushes his helmet up off his head, letting it drop carelessly to the ground behind him. The entire stadium watches with fascination as Tyus strides purposefully across the field, his target obvious.

  He’s headed for Coach Allen.

  I feel my heart stop as I watch him close in on the old man. Players read the situation and move in to flank the coach. They watch Tyus closely, confusion and worry on all of their faces.

  Tyus yanks his jersey off over his head as he moves. It catches on his pads but he yanks it hard, tearing the neck. It hangs like a ruined rag from his hand as he covers the remaining distance between himself and his coach. Words are spoken. Harsh words that Coach Allen listens to without reaction. Tyus throws his jersey down on the ground at the coach’s feet. Then he stalks straight off the field.