by Peyton Storm
“Can I have another donut?”
Umm.
“What?”
“Pleeease!”
Such her father’s child.
“Share?” I offered.
“Share.” She beamed and launched herself from my lap in search for the box Carter had kept safe in the front seat with him. I glanced out the window and noticed neither Greyson nor Carter appeared to have moved, not so much as an inch. Greyson looked in our direction, back towards Carter, and then made his way to the truck.
He left without a goodbye and without looking over to me as he pulled away. Greyson had somewhere important to be. My important was still perched on my lap, getting donut glaze stuck in her eyebrows. A quick, sticky kiss to the forehead, and I held onto her for just a little longer.
Chapter 23
Greyson
The adrenaline ran high, my knuckles stung, and my phone rang non-stop from deep within my back pocket. Dax was furious; I didn’t need to actually take the call to know that. I still had a few minutes to spare. Stopping by my hotel room first, however, was out of the question.
Carter stood just to my left. His eyes were fixated in the same direction as my own. He was looking after his girls. I couldn’t help but envy him. He had it all. Presley loved him, and as hard as that was for me to swallow, it didn’t make it untrue. It went far beyond high school fling shit. She viewed him as family, and rightfully so.
“I lost control.” I was man enough to admit that much.
“It’s what you do, Tack.” He paused before releasing a frustrated breath. “But this time, you did the right thing. Presley? She’s a given. But you stood up for my daughter as well.”
“She’s just a kid, man.” And before I could finish, he made sure to drive it home.
“My kid.” His words hung in the air, and even though I knew there was more to be said, I knew it wasn’t the time nor the place. I told him where I was staying, my room number, and what time I expected to make it back. Presley had her hands full, literally, and I tried not to let it sting that she didn’t look at me when I left. It was understandable; she had her family to look after.
The Bluetooth connected as I backed out of her driveway, and the second I pressed Accept, Dax went into such a tangent, he rattled the fucking windows. Within sixty seconds flat, he not only read my ass for ignoring his calls but also questioned how Texas humidity was even scientifically possible.
“Get your ass over here now!” was the last of it before he dropped the call and left me to my jumbled thoughts.
I drove straight towards the football field. If I ignored any and all possible stop lights and signs, I’d only be a little late. Fuck. Dax was gonna have my ass. All he ever really asked of me was that I keep my nose clean, my head straight, and to be on time. It wasn’t something I ever really cared to admit, but his opinion of me did matter, whether he realized it or not.
I’d attempt to explain myself later. Sure, I would fail, but I’d try nonetheless. For the time being, I slapped on the baseball cap Dax had left on the center console, threw Weezy in park, and headed off to make some preteens’ dreams come true.
I don’t think I’d ever fully believe there was actual truth in that statement. Still, I’d do all I could to not let them down, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I made my way down the stairs to the field. Half of those boys could barely fill out the pads that had been assigned to them. That used to be me.
Just before I hit the rails that’d take me down the ramp and onto the field, I spotted a woman sitting alone, videoing practice on her cell. She wore what looked to be a waitress uniform, and I couldn’t help but notice the long drawn out yawns in between wide, proud smiles. The image was so familiar, only my own mom jawed with the coach most days and made sure we players all wore our sunscreen.
“Which one’s yours?”
She jumped at my sudden presence. I knew I was about two seconds away from being cursed out, but then she realized who I was.
“Oh my goodness! Greyson Tack Thomas! I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
Tears sprang from her eyes, and I knew there had to be more to the story, her story, and that very little of it actually had to do with me.
“Eli. He’s the small one, number eighty-seven.” She beamed, but still, there was a deep sadness behind her enthusiasm.
I thought to give humor a shot to try to lighten the mood.
“He’s still got a couple more years. Maybe add a little more protein? Nothing worth shedding a tear over.”
Okay, so humor isn’t my strong suit. Still, she smiled wide and started to wipe the tears away.
“I’m so sorry. I’m just really, really tired. I have just a couple hours between shifts and with his dad now gone…I just feel bad no one’s here to cheer him on.”
I learned the kid’s dad had just passed a few months prior. Sole breadwinner, no life insurance. She was suddenly a single mom working multiple jobs to make ends meet, sacrificing whatever she had to in order to be there for her son. Yeah, I knew a little something about that. I made a mental note to chat with Dax and call in some favors before I shook the kind woman’s hand and headed for the field.
The second I stepped foot on the dried-up grass, camera flashes came from all angles, which forced Dax to curse me out through clenched teeth.
“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been sweating bullets over here, dodging B-24 size mosquitos. You owe me, Tack. You owe me big!”
We smiled through the photos, and once I answered my last mundane question about the draft and where I hoped to land, I was able to get to the important stuff. The kids. Their coach was a short, stocky man who was balding and, if I had to guess, was in his mid to late fifties. He was obviously passionate about the sport and said all the right things. I imagined him being named in some celebratory speeches in the coming years as his boys became men and pros.
Some people would always see football as the dumb kid’s pass to college and the pro league of meatheads who could barely add two and two together. In a perfect world, society would take a deeper look and see that in many cases, the game provided something these kids lacked at home. Sure, that could mean financial stability, but it could also mean something as simple, or in their case, not so simple, as a good job and a pat on the shoulder.
Football would give them the opportunity to rise above the hand they were dealt, a way out, and if that meant starting at a young age, putting our bodies on the line, and being labeled “dumb”, so be it. It’s a do or die world; you had to fight for your happy ending.
My own happy ending had yet to unfold. I pushed aside the images of Presley alongside me at the draft and joined the coach in conducting drills for the teen hopefuls.
We ran drill after drill, and by the time Coach called for showers, the boys had truly left all they had on the field. Once the photogs began packing away their equipment, Dax made a beeline for me to remind me I had some explaining to do.
“Not here, man. Give me a minute to say bye to the boys, and then you’re more than welcome to kick my ass all the way back to the hotel.”
Dax breathed deep through his nose and looked to the sky to collect his words. Temper, temper. Always so fucking dramatic that one.
“Are you done?”
“You’re pushing it, kid. Go say your good-byes, sign some jerseys, whatever those boys want. I’m gonna pull Weezy around, and you better hope she’s in the same condition she was in when you took her.”
“Dick.”
“I heard that!” he called over his shoulder, not once looking back.
Of course he did.
I made my way through the old locker room that someway, somehow, hadn’t changed one bit since my days. The main entrance door still squeaked and was missing its handle, the paint was chipped, and no one had ever changed the ceiling tile
s in the far left corner after that air conditioner leaked back in my junior year. Even with all the work it needed, it still was and always would be one of my favorite spots on the planet. Maybe I could help with a bit of a facelift before leaving town.
The sound of lockers being jerked open and slammed shut vibrated down the short walkway. Loud music bounced off the walls, which forced the boys to yell even louder. It was all about bragging rights; their half-truths didn’t matter as long they achieved baller status. That, and busting your teammates’ balls.
And then there was Eli. He sat alone on the furthest corner of the furthest bench from the rest of the boys. I signed a couple jersey’s and posed for a couple selfies on my way to him. Once he realized I was heading his way, he seemed intent on edging himself out the door, unseen.
“Eli, right?”
I stood there, waiting on some kind of response but it didn’t come. His eyes landed everywhere but on me, and he shifted his weight from side to side. I knew the signs. He was anxious, on edge. Okay, so we had something else in common other than football.
“Hey,” he mumbled and readjusted the heavy, battered duffle bag that hung off his right shoulder.
“I met your mom earlier. She couldn’t be more proud of what you’re learning out there.”
All color drained from his face as he tried to sidestep me altogether. He was embarrassed, and I got it. Most kids his age would react the same way. His mom was taking pics she’d probably post on social media and hang on walls all over the house. She’d shown up at practice in a uniform that screamed greasy fries and minimum wage, but at the end of the day, he had his mom.
I couldn’t relate to the loss of his dad since I never knew mine, but there was still a hole in my heart from losing my mom. He didn’t know just how good he had it. That’s not to dismiss the loss of his dad. A loss like that can fuck a kid up. But he still had his mom, and whether he knew it right then or not, he would need his mom for the rest of his life, and she deserved to know it.
“Have a seat, kid.”
Eli flopped down beside me with a huff. I wasn’t in any position to counsel nor scold the kid, but I wouldn’t have felt right just walking away either.
“My mom died when I was just a couple years older than you are now. She suffered for months but always had a smile for me when I needed one, no matter what. Mom’s smile through their own pain for the sake of their kids. Remember that.”
I stood and made my way back to the players still hanging around the lockers. I didn’t say all that much to Eli but truly hoped it had been enough.
Presley
I must have dozed off because Carter sticking his face to the car window, tongue out and all, startled both me and Paisley. We jumped in unison and with a giddy squeal, “Daddy!” rang in my ears. I thanked God I’d have him there to help me navigate the situation with her.
We were still young parents, new to all of it, but had also learned a thing or two on our own. We never wanted to flood Paisley with information or details that were too much for her young mind to process. She had her whole life to be completely overwhelmed. It didn’t have to start at home. Lying to her was never an option, we’d both agreed on that from day one, and we chose to let her lead the conversation. Whatever information she needed—the when, where, how—she would be sure to let us know.
One thing we learned was that kids are often much more resilient than adults, and our Peanut was no exception. Once she bandaged Carter with a couple Hello Kitty bandaids, she skipped towards her room to pick out her outfit for the birthday party she’d been invited to and had talked about non-stop for the past two weeks. Carter and I looked at one another in utter disbelief.
“Did you talk to her? I mean, about anything?”
Those were the first words he’d spoken to me since Paisley and I crawled out from his backseat.
“Of course.” And maybe that came out a little sharper than I had initially intended.
I called out to Paisley to let her know I’d be there in a sec before wrapping my arms around Carter’s waist and spilling tears onto his chest.
“Hey, easy. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I nodded absently as I attempted to pull myself together.
“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, either of you. You know that.”
His eyes bore deep into mine, and for a moment, I was transfixed. Why did things have to be so complicated? He’d been my hero for so long. I reached up to smooth the worry lines that tarnished his otherwise perfect face. Carter caught my wrist in his hands and pulled me close.
“No more tears. Promise me,” he whispered.
“Kay,” I mumbled in between long deep breaths.
His thumbs swiped at the corner of my eyes, and before I knew what was happening, “I don’t deserve you,” slipped from my mouth.
Just because I wished to take it back didn’t mean the words were any less true. He smiled wide and cradled my face in his hands. “You’re stuck with me. Always.” And leaned in to give me a peck on the lips.
The gesture wasn’t uncommon between us, only at that moment, I guess I just needed it to last a little longer. What was I trying to prove? Hell if I knew, but Carter welcomed my lips to his.
When our mouths came together, I couldn’t help but be tempted, but he was more than that. More than a cheap thrill. We didn’t deepen the kiss, only savored the feel of one another’s familiar touch. To this day, I can’t recall which of us broke the kiss or why. But a familiar sense of dread began to wash over me. I was sure to spend the rest of the day questioning my actions, my every move, and wonder if I’d damaged the bond between us.
My eyes stung, and my palms began to itch. I needed yet another moment, a second to pull myself together. I never wanted our daughter to see me fall apart.
Carter reached behind me to lift my hair off my neck. “Breathe easy, Presley. We’ve been through worse.”
He was right. He was always right.
“You’re amazing. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” he teased. “You failed to mention my hair, though. I mean, come on!”
Carter never failed, never. He always managed to make me smile, laugh, no matter what. I reached up to muffle every single perfect, inky strand. His own laugh bubbled again, and I couldn’t help but kiss him again. Only that time, it caught him off guard. He steadied the both of us, parted his lips, and let me in.
In his kiss, I found truth, warmth, and purity. The taste of him both calmed and ignited my senses. What we had was strong, even my knee jerk reactions and insecurities couldn’t break us. Just as I began to melt into him, Carter softened the kiss and pulled away. His mouth still hovered over mine, and his eyes looked deep into my own. Before he spoke, a sad smile stretched across his mouth.
“Our kiddo’s waiting on her bubble bath. Or possibly still obsessing over what to wear.”
He gave me a soft peck on the tip of my nose and started to walk away but made sure to brush the back of his hand across my own along the way.
“Carter?”
He didn’t hesitate to turn back towards me.
“You were the first man I ever loved.”
Not one second held in the air before he rushed back to me with all the urgency and desire he’d suppressed just moments before. His tongue licked at the roof of my mouth while his hands tugged me close. We were a perfect fit...and then he was gone.
He created the distance to allow us both to clear our heads. His long lashes fluttered for a moment before he stepped forward again and traced my bottom lip with his thumb. He then said the words that would, once again, alter all of our lives forever.
“But not the first boy.”
His voice broke as he spoke. He then turned to go tend to our daughter while my defense shattered, and silent tears flowed.
I busied myself ar
ound the living room while Carter gave Paisley her bath. He left the door cracked open, and I couldn’t help but smile at their back and forth banter. She was getting older and while she still loved bathtime with Daddy, she’d started to demand more privacy. Translation? Their entire bath time bonding occurred with Carter sitting on the bathroom floor with his back against the tub. Until it was shampoo time. It’d still be a while before she would be able to manage that head full of curls on her own. I’ve had this head of hair for twenty plus years, and it still gives me hell. She and I both had enough hair for three people; otherwise, the curls alone wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Whether she liked it or not, she was gonna need our help for a while longer.
Just when I heard Paisley trot towards her bedroom to get dressed, my doorbell rang. Considering who had been lurking around my property earlier and why, I was hesitant to open the door. The person on the other side, however, was persistent.
“Hey chickie. Baby daddy thought you could use some girl time.”
Belle. Of course. Carter must have texted her. He always knew what, or in this case, who I needed and when. She knew to brace herself as I launched myself into her arms. Fuck, I was such a mess. I didn’t deserve either of them. I was, however, grateful. So incredibly grateful.
“Easy, Mama, I’m here. You pick the flick, and I’ll raid the fridge.”
I hugged her tight before grabbing the remote from the coffee table. Just as I settled on what to watch, Carter and Paisley came walking down the hall. She’d chosen purple, ankle-length leggings with her shiny silver hightops. The bubble gum pink tutu and mango colored tank top completed the ensemble. There would be pony rides and ice cream cones, and quite frankly, she couldn’t wait.
“Well, check you out!”
I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. As always, she beamed in response and twirled in a circle for full effect.
“Tell Mama bye so we can head out. Gotta pick up a gift on the way.”
Belle came in from the kitchen, and the second I finished my mama hug and kiss, she swept Paisley up in her arms.