Whisper Me and Roar: A Second Chance Romance

by Bri Stone

  * * *

  Pete is a mass on the seat in front of me. I stand at a safe distance from him, so I don’t get distracted and so I don’t say the wrong thing.

  “I wish there was something I could say, to make things right. But I know I can’t.” I wring my fingers together like I could drain the anxiety right out of my body.

  My lips still sting from our kiss and my body hums as I lean against the foot of the bed. His gaze crosses mine as he sits on the armchair, the pale blue color disappears around him.

  “No, you can’t.” His voice has been gone from me so long I almost don’t recognize it. The thick, raspy drawl of it, the might of it.

  “Things were difficult back then. I promise I didn’t have a choice.” I chew the inside of my lip, biting back the tears.

  “How difficult could they have been, that you couldn’t talk to me? I told you that day that nothing would ever change the way I felt about you, even in the beginning.”

  “I wanted to believe you. I mean, I did believe you,” I shake my head, at a loss for words.

  “Why did you even come in here, Melinda? Truly.” He leans forward, steadying his elbows on his knees. The hairs and veins on his forearms wrap his muscled arms and all I want is for those arms to be around me again.

  But if anyone doesn’t deserve a second chance, it’s me.

  “To see you, I told you I was worried. I want to try and explain things, but it will just take time.”

  “How much more time could you need?” His gaze is pointed and harsh.

  I cringe from his dark eyes, turning to the drab painting on the wall. “I don’t know. But if you give me a chance—”

  He scoffs, cutting me off. “A chance? Melinda, I never thought anyone could hurt me so bad until you did. I had to grow from the dirt you left me in, and I’m not prepared to do that again.”

  I stay facing the wall. The hurt marring his voice is enough for me. The pain he is feeling is nothing I can fix in a day. I do go over to him eventually, standing a few paces from him.

  My hands shake for the first time in years as I reach out to touch him, any part of him. I get his shoulders, the wide barriers with scorching heat.

  “I’m sorry. I mean it more than anything, I am so sorry. I want to make things right. I want you. And you may not believe me, but leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.” My tears can’t be held back anymore as they flow freely. “The only danger I ever felt was when I fell for you.” I exhale with the fury of all my pain. When my tears clear, I see him looking up at me. His eyes have softened as he takes in my words.

  “If you knew the truth, you would have begged me to leave,” I whisper.

  Pete parts his soft lips and reaches out to take my hand. “That’s not true.” He holds my right hand in his between us as I gaze at him.

  Moments pass, a few minutes that we stay like that. I don’t have the nerve for much else, and he seems so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t say anything either. It seems he is done talking about the past, about me and what I did. It’s exhausting for me, so it must be for him too.

  I try and change the subject, but on a day like this, with all that has happened, nothing seems appropriate.

  “How… how is your family?” I start, reluctantly pulling my hands from his.

  He sighs. “Everyone is okay. I won’t lie and say they don’t all hate you, but they’re fine.”

  I almost laugh, but I only nod instead because I am not surprised. His family was always close-knit, their bond admirable and loving. The way his sisters love him, the way his parents love him. I remember the jealousy I felt the first time I met them, but it was short lived because they made me feel so welcome and loved me the same way. I realize then how many people I have hurt.

  “And your parents? They’re okay?”

  His eyes glaze over, and I wonder if I have gone too far until he answers. “Momma is fine. Dad is dead.”

  My breath hitches, as I sink to my knees in front of him. “Pete,” I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me. His skin is soft and warm under my fingers as I hold him. “When?” Pete was always so close to his father that I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him. For myself, I know too well.

  “About three years ago.” He wavers.

  I drop my head and find my words. The ones I use for patients and their families aren’t appropriate for this, and I realize it is all I know. I bring myself closer to him, burying my head in the crook of his shoulder.

  For a long while, we stay like that until I pull away to look at him again. His lashes fan over his cheeks as he looks down at the ground. My hands rest on his knees as I kneel in front of him.

  “How did it happen?” His father was always so healthy, from what I remembered even fifteen years ago.

  “He got bone cancer.”

  The irony pierces my veins. How many people have I treated with bone cancer? Healed, even. With my research and success rate, I cannot help but wonder what would have happened if I had never left? I would have known, and I could have helped. I shove the selfish thought from my mind and focus on him.

  “I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him. And your mom, your sisters? How are they handling his passing?”

  “It has been hard on them, Phoebe especially. But we’re fine. The farm is fine.” Pete sounds so dejected, I wonder if he is only lying. I don’t think to pry anymore out of him.

  “I’m so sorry, Pete. I wish I could have been there for you.”

  “But you weren’t.” He cuts me off. His voice is cold, his gaze hard, our moment over.

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  He turns away from me so my hands slip away from him. I stand to give him space, and I need it too.

  “Pete, I wanted to be. So much. And I am so sorry that I left you, and that I hurt you. I can’t say it enough, but I hope we can—”

  “That we can what?” Pete stands, towering over me, staring down at me like I have three heads. I must look like it, asking him for anything at all. “Go back to the way things were? Be together again, just like that?”

  I breathe faster as I look into his eyes, the way they bore through me. The way they take me prisoner.

  “I still love you. I’m still in love with you, very much, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is one thing has changed, and it’s that I don’t trust you. Not with anything, and especially not with my heart.”

  My lips part but I have no contest. For how can I blame him, or even argue with him? I deserve this, all of it. While I want to stay and try to change his mind, my pager goes off and I have to look at it. It’s from the OR I was just in with the bomber.

  He’s crashing.

  PETE

  * * *

  I walk out of the meeting with fresh eyes. Eight teams want me from all across the nation. Different stats, different coaching styles, but all good teams.

  The past five years weren’t a waste.

  Coach had been acting as my agent of sorts, but now I have a scouting agent handling all negotiations and my scheduling. My first real appearance for evaluation is in February.

  “I’m so proud of you!” Momma latches me in a hug I couldn’t get out of if I tried.

  I smile and hug her back. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Besides, nothing has happened yet,” I remind her. They could change their minds or I could get hurt. I still have to tread carefully.

  Momma sighs and lets go. “I know, but I’m still making your favorite meal for dinner.”

  I smile, “I won’t stop you.”

  She smiles and I follow her inside of the house. I had told everyone about the meeting on the drive back, this new discovery—all but one. I hadn’t seen Melinda since that night out by the field four days ago. I try and text her, but she gets busy with class and I get forgetful, so I hadn’t made plans to see her again.

  Back in the house, I head to my room while Momma makes dinner. I sit on my bed in my room that hasn’t change
d in twenty years. I’ve got dark blue painted walls with pin-ups of football stuff and family pictures. My wooden desk, made by hand by my grandfather, is next to the bed. I had the jack of a jack and jill with Phoebe, but now that she is gone, I don’t have to share the bathroom anymore. But when she is here, Lord, have mercy.

  When I dial Melinda, I get four rings before she answers.

  “I’m at the library.” She answers. It’s almost six, but I’m not surprised she is there.

  “Hello to you too.” I smile. I hear her sigh and feel her soften a little.

  “Hi.”

  I lean back on my black headboard. “How was your day?”

  “Fine. How was your day?”

  I smile again because I have good news. “It was better than most. I met with a scouting agent.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, it’s a good thing. There are teams interested in me, even before the combine.”

  “The combine?” She asks.

  “Yeah, it’s like—” I think for a minute. “So basically, it’s like I’ve applied to medical school and I have been given an interview opportunity—the draft being medical school.”

  “Oh, okay,” she giggles once. “That makes sense.”

  I laugh.

  “Congratulations then, I think.” I hear her ruffle some papers on her end.

  “Thank you. It means we have to celebrate though.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Yeah, sweetness. Celebrate.”

  “I’m happy for you, but I don’t think I have time—”

  I cut her off, “Are you still pretending you don’t want to be around me?” My voice sharpens.

  I hear her thinking. “No, Pete. I… What do you want to do?”

  “Let me get creative. When are you free?”

  She sighs, “I don’t know. Maybe Friday night.”

  “Me too. I’ll pick you up around seven.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me what we’re doing?” She asks.

  “No,” I chuckle, “not yet. How long will you be at the library?”

  “Until I finish this chapter.”

  “Don’t stay out too late. Do you live near campus?”

  “I hope you aren’t one of those guys.”

  “What? I can’t worry about you?”

  Melinda is silent for a moment and I let her stew.

  “I live a few blocks from campus so it’s not that bad. And I can take care of myself. I grew up in downtown Compton.”

  I frown to myself because I don’t know anything about the area. Geography? Never paid attention.

  “I know you can…” I say nothing for a moment as I think. “Are you busy Saturday? You should come to the game.”

  “I have to work.”

  “If you didn’t have work, would you go?” I’m not surprised when she doesn’t answer. “Noted.”

  “Maybe. I just never was one for organized sports…”

  “Football is highly disorganized,” I say. Melinda laughs, and it makes me smile.

  “You know what I mean. Plus, it’s so hot and the stands get dirty. Sorry, but you will never get me to go to a game.”

  “Well, guys generally have their girls come to watch them play.”

  “I’m not your girl though.”

  “You will be.” I let my confidence in the possibility over shadow the sting of her response.

  “Ha!” Melinda laughs out of surprise. “I will say, you can easily make me laugh.”

  I grin. “Much obliged.”

  “Shouldn’t you be practicing or studying yourself?” Melinda gripes.

  “Nope. Practice was earlier and I have the easiest classes. I’m at my farm, waiting for dinner.”

  “Like,” she trails, “you have to catch the animal first?”

  It’s my turn to laugh as I find my words. “No, bumblebee, not this time. My mom is making my favorite meal to celebrate.” I laugh again once.

  “I didn’t mean to assume, but I’ve honestly never met anyone who lives on a real farm.”

  “Are there fake ones?”

  “Shut up. Why do you call me ‘bumblebee?’”

  “Because,” I smile, “you look good in yellow.” And because all she does is buzz around my head.

  “You remember my outfits? See, I knew you were a creep, cataloging my outfits.” I hear the sarcasm in her voice, and I can tell the difference now a little.

  “Guilty. I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetness.”

  “It’s…fine. I should get back to studying though—so I’m not out late at night.”

  I chortle, “What are you working on?”

  “Calculus. I hate it. I’m better with science.”

  “I could probably help you, all I did was math in my engineering classes.”

  “You’re not here.”

  “You can send me a picture. But I’ll let you go, I smell my food cooking now.” I smile to myself.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I tell her.

  “Yeah. And congratulations, I am happy for you.”

  I grin like she mentioned banana cream pie. “Thanks, bumblebee.”

  Melinda hangs up, and I walk downstairs to be greeted with my favorite dinner, chicken pot pie. I snicker to myself because it really was from chicken put down earlier in the morning.

  “Who were you on the phone with?” Momma asks me.

  We have sat down to eat; just me and the parents. The whole family always comes on Sunday, and some days during the week the kids come if my sisters get busy and need Momma to watch them. But tonight, it’s quiet.

  “Uh… just this girl.” I try not to blush, but my mom brings everything out in me.

  “Is she your girlfriend?” Momma clanks the pie cutter on the table.

  “No, she isn’t.” I smile. “I met her about a month ago. We’re just friends, I guess.”

  “Well, who is the little lady?” Dad asks.

  Usually, I don’t let anything get between me and my pot pie, but Melinda is an exception.

  “Her name is Melinda. She’s a senior, a philosophy major. But she wants to go to medical school.”

  Momma gasps, “Oh she’s smart. Is she pretty? I bet she’s pretty.” She nudges dad, who only smiles at her.

  “Yeah, she’s gorgeous. She’s got the prettiest eyes…”

  Momma coos at me and I feel my face heating up as I eat. Dad has already gone through one piece and goes for another.

  “That’s why you have bad cholesterol,” Momma says to him. “Now Pete, is she from near here?”

  “No, Compton. I honestly don’t know where that is.” I gruff. I guzzle down my lemonade. Melinda isn’t my little secret anymore—everyone important knows. I know it’s serious because I had talked to plenty of girls over the college years and none of them ever made it out of my phone or beyond casual dates.

  “East LA, son. You know, Dr. Dre and Easy E?”

  I gape at my dad, “How do you know about them?”

  “Met a lot of farmers out there, I’m more cultured than you think.” He answers. I shake my head in surprise.

  “Okay. Well, that’s where she’s from.” I get a second piece of the pie. I say piece lightly because it takes up my whole plate.

  “Well, does she like you? Do you go on dates?”

  “Sweetheart,” Dad warns mom.

  “It’s okay. She is focused on classes and doesn’t have much time. But we’re going somewhere tomorrow.”

  “This is so exciting.” Momma nearly jumps in her seat.

  “Don’t start planning weddings, Momma,” I calm her.

  “I’m not. It’s just that you never talk about any girls at all, never even brought one home. It’s exciting.”

  I look at dad. “I’m with your mom on this one, boy,” he says. “Hell, I thought you were on the other team.”

  I nearly choke. “Thanks, dad.”

  He only shrugs and goes
for a third piece of the pot pie. But they both leave me alone about it. I’m happy to talk about Melinda. I think she’s…well, perfect. I know no one is, but whoever said that hadn’t met her. Yeah, I know she is reluctant and a little closed off, but I think it makes her all the better for it.

  We finish up, and Momma makes us both help her clean up before we get our dessert of key lime pie. I’m lucky I train the way I do, otherwise I’d be huge. I head out around ten to get back to the house.

  The guys are both glued to the gaming screen again and barely notice me come in. I shower before I head to bed, but just as I shut the lights out my phone goes off. I check it to find something from Melinda, cell tech isn’t that great, but I see the picture on a whiteboard of a lucrative differential equation. I hated those.

  Coupled with a text that says, I can’t figure this out.

  I look it over and find the error in seconds.

  Pete: you have the reciprocal negative, so that’s why you get an error. It’s positive until you take the deviation from it.

  Melinda: that worked. Thank you

  Pete: You’re welcome. How about a kiss goodnight?

  Melinda: yeah okay.

  I laugh and try to go to sleep because I have class at eight in the morning. I don’t know what I was thinking when I signed up for it, but I had to take it to even graduate. Damned gen eds. They’re worse than all my engineering courses. Hydraulic engineering was tough because it required so many other skills. But it’s worth it to know I can use it to improve the farm when I’m done with football.

  I get nothing else from Melinda before I drift off to sleep, still wondering where the hell to take her for our date.

  I tell Melinda my change of plans after a heated phone conversation with my sister.

  “Everyone goes to dinner or the movies for a date, so have dinner with the movie without even leaving the house!” Phoebe shouts over a hair dryer, in the middle of a shoot for some magazine.

  It sounds confusing, but I bite. “Okay, so stay in?”

  “Yep. Maybe make some snacks and make the living room all nice.” She sighs, “It’s my dream date.”

  “Okay. You better be right.”

  “She’ll love it. And don’t forget the condoms, when you buy snacks.”