Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  I turn off the highway onto a dirt road, following the slurred instructions he gave me the last time he was lucid. You’ll go a mile or two and you’ll see a farmhouse with a rocking chair on the porch and a small cabin just off the driveway. There’s a dog, but he’ll be nice to you.

  “Fox?” I nudge his arm, hoping I took the correct turn.

  Finally, a house comes into view. It’s just like he described it would be. One story tall, white, with a smaller cabin. No dog in sight, though, but I spot the rocking chair. I check the clock on the dash. It’s just after five in the morning. Hopefully, Barbara Clark is a morning person.

  I park in the driveway and detach my seatbelt. “Fox?” He doesn’t move. I force the tears down and step outside into the driveway. “Come on, Fox…” I pull open his door and tap his face to wake up him. His eyes flutter open and I breathe a sigh of relief. He falls forward and I let him lean into me as we stand him up. I carry us across the drive with heavy feet and knock on the front door. “Hello?” I cry out. I knock again, struggling to hold him steady.

  The door opens and an elderly woman stares at me through the screen door, along with a large husky dog attached to her hip.

  “Are you Barbara Clark?” I ask her.

  She studies my face with a raised brow. “Are you Roxie Roberts?”

  I breathe a laugh. “Yeah.”

  Her eyes fall on Fox and she pushes the screen door open. “Bring him in,” she says.

  I carry him inside, feeling his weight increase on my shoulder with each step.

  “Put him on the table.” She passes through the dining room towards the back of the house while I slide him down onto a thick, wooden dinner table. “Take his clothes off, honey,” she calls from the other room.

  I hesitate for a moment, feeling a sting of embarrassment before obeying with trembling fingers. He shifts slowly with the movements, somehow aware of his surroundings as I peel the layers off. His lips split with hisses of pain, especially when I manage to get his shirt off his shredded back. The dog lingers near my feet, his senses on full alert with his tail wagging back and forth, but he shows no hostility towards me.

  My eyes fall to the cobra tattoo and I can’t help but touch the dark, black ink again. His skin feels so cold and hard, like he’s already dead.

  I keep moving, ignoring my swelling eyes. Each groan of pain from him brings the tears closer to the surface. I can barely look at his wrecked body and I somehow manage to keep my shit together. I slide his pants down to his ankles and the flash drive tumbles from his pocket onto the floor. I grab it and I pile his bloody clothes — everything but his boxers — beneath the table and wait for her to come back.

  When she does, she carries a large bucket of warm water, several towels, a sewing kit, and a doctor bag that looks as old as she is. “Are you squeamish, dear?” she asks as she drops it all on the table.

  “Probably,” I answer.

  “You’ll get over that pretty quick.” She grins at me and then looks down at Fox. “Now, what’s he gone and got into now?”

  My tongue twitches in my mouth. “I, uh…”

  She leans over his shoulder. “That’s a gunshot wound…”

  “Yeah.”

  “Help me roll him onto his side.” She scoots her hands behind his back and waits for me to reach across him. I move with my eyes on her, following her nods of approval until I grip his side. “Just like that,” she says.

  I pull him up and I try not to watch the grimace spreading across his lips.

  “Oh, goody!” she calls. “An exit wound. That’s what I like to see. Hold him steady for me.” I keep my hands on his side as she opens her doctor bag.

  “You sound… excited,” I note.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve treated one of these…” she mutters.

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “Retired nurse.”

  I look at Fox’s face as so many unanswered questions plague my mind. Who the hell is this woman and how does Fox know her? Why did we drive over seven hundred miles to get here when we passed dozens of hospitals on the way? What the hell is this place?

  She wets a towel to clear the blood off his skin. “Do you pluck?”

  I blink. “Do I what?”

  “Pluck — your eyebrows.”

  I nod with confusion. “Yes.”

  She gestures me around the table to stand beside her and she hands me a pair of large, metal tweezers. “He has a few pieces of glass in his back. See what you can do.”

  I stand over him, completely frozen, trying to figure out if I heard her correctly. My eyes fall to his back and I see the small shards sticking out along his spine. I cringe. He had them in him this whole time. “It’s just like plucking eyebrows?” I ask.

  “Pretty much.” She reaches into the doctor bag and slides a bottle of whiskey at me.

  “And what’s this for?”

  “You drink it, honey.”

  I twist the cap off and pour a large portion down my throat.

  ***

  “Dani?”

  I open my eyes and lift my head off the arm of the sofa. The woman shakes my shoulder again, pulling me out of sleep with a blue and white teacup in her other hand.

  “Here, honey,” she says, offering it to me.

  I sit up and take the cup from her. “Thank you.” The fragrant tea fills my nose with a steady, warm aroma. I look up and I see Fox lying there on the table in front of me with his eyes still closed, his body bruised and bandaged. “Is he okay?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  She sits down next to me on the love seat. “He’s a tough son-of-a-bitch,” she muses. “He was talking a few minute ago.”

  “He was?”

  She nods. “Kept saying your name. Dani, Dani… I told him you were fine and he passed out again.”

  I take a sip from the cup. The hot tea shoots through my body and I realize how cold I am. I look at Fox, nearly naked on the table. “We should get him some clothes. Do you have anything?”

  “Should be some in his room.”

  I pause. “His room?” She points to the window behind me and I look out to see the cabin across the driveway. “He lives here?”

  “For the last six months now.” She nods slowly, her eyes lingering on his face. “Just walked up to my door one day with the local paper in his hand and my ad circled in red. My husband, Larry, died early last year and I was looking for someone to help out around here. He and I lived on this land over fifty years together.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “That’s all right, dear.” She smiles. “I knew there was something special about Fox the moment he stepped inside. Good kid but he had that sad face on him. He offered to pay a little more in rent if I’d keep quiet if someone came around asking about him.” She chuckles. “I asked him if he planned on killing me in my sleep and he said no.”

  I laugh. “I guess that’s why you weren’t surprised when he showed up at your door covered in blood.”

  “Not really.” She looks at me. “Now, him showing up covered in blood with a big movie star under his arm… that’s a little surprising.”

  “I can imagine…” I watch his chest rise and fall with his breath.

  She eyes the stitches on my cheek. “He rushed out of here a few days ago after he saw the news. I guess that makes sense now, too.”

  “He’s my stepbrother,” I explain.

  She hums softly and sits back against the cushion. “The plot thickens…”

  I chuckle and set the teacup down. “I’m going to go find him some clothes.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Thank you.”

  I step outside and tears instantly invade my cheeks. My heart lurches in my chest, so utterly thankful I could scream.

  He’s alive.

  He didn’t die.

  I lean against the banister and fill my lungs with fresh, Iowa air. It smells so different than the city. No smog, no chemicals. Just life. It makes se
nse why Fox chose this place to play dead.

  I wipe my eyes and walk across the driveway towards the cabin.

  My first instinct is to knock even though I know there’s no one inside. The air is dark and cold but I can smell him as soon I step inside. The cabin is small. Just one room with a kitchenette in the corner and bed in the other, but I imagine he found great appeal in the simplicity of it all. Fox never needed much, even back when we were teens. I remember the look on his face the day he and his mother moved into our home in the Hills. Big eyes. An open jaw. But he never really embraced it. It never felt like home for him.

  I sit down on his bed. The sheets are tucked in tight, most likely a habit he picked up back in his army days. He certainly never did this when he lived back home.

  Home. There’s that word again.

  I hold his pillow against my nose and inhale deeply.

  This is his home now. The one he chose instead of me.

  I look across the room at his television and something familiar catches my eyes. I slide down to the floor and crawl over to the shelf below it. A row of movies line the bottom, stacked in alphabetical order by title. Backseat Driver, Laser Focus, Lost & Bound, The Night Trials, The Night Trials, Part 2…

  I laugh. It’s all here. Every movie I’ve done, every role big and small. Even that shitty sitcom I did that got canceled because nobody watched it. The definitive Roxie Roberts collection.

  I sit back against his mattress and hug his pillow against my chest.

  Maybe he chose me after all.

  Chapter 15

  Fox

  Dani.

  ***

  Her face is all I see.

  ***

  Even in darkness.

  Chapter 16

  Dani

  “So, Larry looks behind him and there’s the bear— standing on his hind legs with his arms outstretched—” Mrs. Clark pauses for her own laughter, “and he lets out this high-pitched scream!”

  I throw my head back and laugh even harder. “What did he do?” I ask between breaths.

  “He ran, of course!” she says, wiping her eyes. “Stumbled all over himself before he reached the ladder to get on the roof of the camper with me. The bear ran off and a few minutes later, a state trooper drove up. He said they got complaints about a woman screaming out in the woods. I threw up my hand and told ‘em it was me.”

  My face hurts but I can’t stop laughing. “Oh, that poor guy.”

  “I never let him live that down… but I did as he asked and took it to his grave.”

  The front door opens and my smile fades.

  “Is that you, Fox?” Mrs. Clark calls, almost out of habit.

  I stand up from the couch as he enters the living room wearing the tank top and slacks I picked out from his dresser. Color has returned to his face and he walks with a straight back, strong and upright.

  His eyes fall on mine and he smiles. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “How are you feeling?” I ask him.

  “Better.”

  Sammy pushes off the floor near my feet and his lips twitch at Fox with a growl. “Sammy, down,” I tell him. He looks up at me and licks my hand.

  Fox stares at him. “Six months I’ve known that dog and he still hates me. You’ve been here a few hours and you’re best friends…”

  “I’m Roxie freakin’ Roberts,” I joke.

  Mrs. Clark stands and taps her chair. “Sit down, kid. I’ll get you some tea.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Clark.” Fox steps further into the room, circles around Sammy’s authoritative stance, and sits down. His movements are quick, far more than I expected. It’s only been about eight hours since we got him dressed and put him in his bed. He glances around, his eyes narrow and suspicious. “What have you two been talking about?”

  I shrug. “Larry.”

  He grins. “She likes to talk about Larry.”

  “She likes to talk about you, too.”

  He bites his cheek. “Well, that’s not good.”

  “Could be worse.” I lick my lips, almost too scared to ask. “How’s your back?”

  “Could be worse.”

  “Tell that to the nine shards I pulled out of it. I almost passed out…”

  “You almost passed out?” he quips.

  I chuckle. “So, I stumbled upon a very important piece of information.”

  “What’s that?”

  My lips curl. “You watch my movies.”

  He sighs. “Dani, I told you I haven’t.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Then how did you know about the big chase at the end of Night Trials, Part 2?”

  “It was in the trailer,” he claims. “You couldn’t turn on the television for weeks without seeing it.”

  “Yeah, in May 2014,” I chuckle. “Did you watch a lot of American television while you were overseas?”

  He hesitates. “That’s not—”

  “Did I hear someone say Night Trials?” Mrs. Clark wanders back into the room with a teacup in her hand.

  Fox deflates and closes his eyes. “She can’t hear the television from five feet away — but she hears that?”

  I fight my laughter.

  “Oh, I loved those movies, honey! We were on the edge of our seats, weren’t we, Fox?” She offers him the cup while I meet his eyes with a devious grin.

  He says nothing, embarrassed by her unintentional betrayal.

  “I’m happy you enjoyed them, Mrs. Clark,” I say, still glaring at him as he hides behind his teacup.

  “I can’t wait for the third one,” she says. “When does it come out?”

  I pull my eyes from his red cheeks. “We just finished the last re-shoots. It’s scheduled to come out in June.”

  “Oh, thank the maker,” she says. “I thought I was going to die before I saw how it all ends.”

  “You’ll outlive us all, old lady,” Fox says. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  “Keep bringing home wounds like that and I’m inclined to agree with you, kid. You hungry?”

  “No, thanks,” he answers.

  She taps his good shoulder and spins around. “Well, I’m going to hit the sack. It’s gotten a bit late for me.” Her eyes fall on me and she smiles. “It was a pleasure talking to you today, Dani.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Clark.”

  “I’ll see you kids in the morning.”

  “Goodnight,” Fox says as she walks towards her room in the back. His eyes linger on the floor between us, purposefully avoiding mine. He’s probably still a little embarrassed that I caught him in his lie but I won’t tease him about it anymore.

  My thoughts go dark. There’s something that’s plagued me since the moment his bullet struck the masked man in my stairwell. Mercer’s words at the hotel just made it worse. “Fox, how do you do it?”

  He looks up at me. “Do what?”

  I rub my hands against my knees to dry the sweat. “How do you kill someone and be completely normal ten minutes later?”

  His eyes go soft but he doesn’t even blink. “Like all skills, it takes practice.” He sets the teacup down. “Are you okay?”

  A laugh escapes me. “Pretty loaded question at this point, Fox. In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been shot at, I jumped off a roof, crashed through windows, and I… I drove ten hours in a car thinking you were going to die in the seat next to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Dani.” His hands fidget together. “I never wanted this for you.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about that gun in my hand.” His brow furrows in confusion. “Mercer came for me and... I could have shot him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I tried, but… I couldn’t be like you.”

  “Good,” he says.

  “Fox, if I had, this wouldn’t have happened to you.”

  “And if I had killed him six months ago when I had the chance, this wouldn’t have happened to you.” He shakes his head. “You can’t live like that, Dani. Don’t regret what you should have done, look forward at what you will
do to fix it.”

  “How are we supposed to fix this, Fox?”

  He falls silent and sits back in his chair. I don’t expect him to have an answer right now. He’s still wounded, still healing. His eyes shift and he turns around to glance back into the dining room. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Ruined.”

  “The flash drive was in my pocket. Do you have it?”

  I reach into my jeans for it. “It fell out while I was… taking your pants off.” He reaches for it and I pass it to him. He exhales the panic from his chest as he turns it over his fingers. “Did Boxcar manage to decrypt it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are we going to do with it?”

  Fox keeps his head down. “Well, we can’t plug it in here. They’ll trace it. It’s how they found us at the hotel.”

  I wait for him to offer a second option but he just stares at it. “Fox?”

  “I’ll take it into town and give it the local police. They’ll call in the F.B.I. and they’ll take it from there.”

  “And then you’ll come back here?”

  He squeezes it in his palm. “Dani, I’m in this file.”

  I stare at him, trying to decide if that’s good or bad. “Okay…” He stands up from the chair. “Fox, where are you going?”

  “I need you to stay here.” He walks out of the living room towards the front door.

  “Fox—” I say his name but he doesn’t slow down. “Fox!” I follow him into the entryway, moving as fast as I can to catch up with him. “Fox, what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to turn my myself in and hand over the file.”

  “Wait, right now?”

  “Stay with Mrs. Clark,” he says. “She’s old, but she’s spry.”

  I search his eyes. “You can’t do this.”

  “Stay here, Dani.” He turns around and walks outside.

  My heart pumps wild blood through my veins. I shake with a horrible anticipation like I’m standing on a vibrating train track. “Fox—” My voice cuts off at a whisper. I can’t just let him walk away from me. I can’t. “Fox!” I push myself out the door, taking long strides to catch up with him. “Wait—”