“Did you see that?” I yelled to Sam as we jogged around the field, waving.
“I thought Davis Blake was going to kick his behind! I’d like to see that happen!” I heard Sam cackling inside his huge head.
Whatever Davis had said to him, Kayden came out playing like a different guy. At halftime the Woodsmen were winning by a field goal. “Should we take a picture of the scoreboard?” Sam asked me in the tunnel. “It may be the only time we see them on the upside this season.” He took a huge bite of a nutrition bar.
“I think they could do it, Sam! Maybe they’ll win this one!”
He rolled his eyes and wiped his forehead. “You want the team that fired your rodent ass to win?”
“Don’t you? You know we’ll always be Woodsmen fans. I’ll always be a Davis fan.” I smiled saying his name.
“You’re crazy about that guy,” Sam said, staring at me. “You’re head over heels.”
“I am,” I answered. Sam rolled his eyes again. “I love him,” I explained, then almost had to sit down on the concrete floor. Sweet Jesus. I really did.
“Katie.” Sam looked pained. “I’m not saying this to be an asshole.”
“Oh, great. Just spit it out.”
“Do you really think this will be a good thing for you? I mean, that this is gonna last?”
I patted his fake shoulder. “I think it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” It was time for us to run back out on the field for our part of the halftime show.
In the fourth quarter, the lead was down to one, just one point, from a missed field goal of all things. Sam and I were in the end zone, pumping up the crowd, dancing to—
It was the strangest thing. One moment, I was dancing next to Sam, and the next, there was some kind of earthquake. I was knocked off my feet and landed hard on the ground on my stomach, a crushing weight on top of me.
It was hard to hear in my Nutty head but there was yelling and grunting and confusion. I tried to roll out from the weight and suddenly it lifted off me. I heard Sam calling my name and I managed to roll myself over. My whole costume had twisted and I couldn’t see out of the eye holes. Someone, maybe Sam, was pulling at my Nutty head and I still didn’t understand what was going on. Then the pain registered. I felt like my grandpa’s old hatchback must have under Davis’ giant truck. “What happened?” I kept asking, and then there were trainers, and then somebody yelling my name from far away.
“Davis?” I asked into the darkness of my Chipmunk head. I was still so confused about why I seemed to be on the ground.
I recognized the trainer’s voice as he asked me questions and gently took off my Nutty head while trying to hold my neck steady.
“Katie? Chipmunk?” The trainer got pushed aside and there was Davis next to me, looking terrified. “Holy fuck, are you all right? I’m going to kill him!”
“What happened?” I asked again, blinking up at him. I took a deep breath of air and it hurt to do it.
“Kayden overthrew and the wide receiver ran out of bounds and into you.” He was touching my face and my hair. “My God, Katie…”
“I’m ok,” I told everyone, and then said it louder. “I’m ok.”
“Davis, get back!” the trainer commanded him. “I have to look at her.”
“No, I’m fine. The Nutty costume protected me.” I was already aching in practically every part of my body, but I could tell there wasn’t any serious damage. I started to sit up and Davis put his arms around me and held me to him.
“I thought he had killed you,” Davis said, his voice shaking. “You flew through the air. My God, chipmunk, if something happened to you…I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you, too,” I told him, and he tilted me back in his arms to kiss me.
∞
The Woodsmen executives were very pleased, because all of a sudden, a new story dominated the headlines: “True Love for Woodsmen Quarterback Davis Blake!” Me getting flattened by the wide receiver had been captured on camera and was being replayed countless times on every channel I flipped through and every time I opened my phone. But the part people really seemed to like was Davis bending over me, gathering me up in his arms, and telling me he loved me. You could clearly read his lips, even the swearing part. And our kiss was on repeat, too.
Oddly, Davis didn’t seem to mind the publicity. “It’s true,” he said, when I asked if it bothered him. “I love you.” And even with my sore back and ribs, the giant bruises on my hip and legs, and the black eye that had sprouted, I smiled whenever he said it.
The Woodsmen had held on to win the game. “What did you say to Kayden?” I asked Davis. He shook more pills into my palm and gave me a glass of water.
“I told him to stop dicking around. That he was going to sit on his ass as my backup for the rest of his life if he didn’t put it into gear.” I nodded. That was true. “I told him I was going to beat him within an inch of his life if he lost the game, and I meant it,” Davis continued casually. Sweet Lord. “He called three times already to apologize to you.”
“Well, I didn’t expect you to have to be a nurse for me on your birthday,” I said. “I was going to come home and bake you a cake. I did get you a present, though. It’s in the top drawer by the refrigerator.”
Davis brought the blue envelope over to open while he sat next to me on the couch. “Guitar lessons?” he asked, looking at the gift certificate he pulled out.
“The guy will come to the house,” I explained. “He seemed very nice.” And patient, which was lucky.
“Thank you. This is a perfect present.” He kissed my forehead, one of the few parts of my body that didn’t hurt. Davis gently touched around my eye. “Want more ice for that, bruiser? You look like you went twelve rounds.”
“I’ll be ok. I’ll just need you to stay close and tend to my every need and whim,” I told him. “For a long time.”
“I can do that. Chipmunk, you know why I didn’t tell you that I could drive?”
I shook my head.
“You said I didn’t need you.” Davis looked into my eyes. “I do. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to go.”
“I don’t have to go.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Good, because I need you, and I love you. You’ve got me forever.”
It sounded pretty good to me, too.
Epilogue
The wind entered through the open French doors and gently tickled my hair with a warm, salty gust. It was another beautiful day in Hawaii. We had been there for a week, and it was easy to see why my grandpa had loved it so much.
Lindy stood nearby with her baby, little Ella, and Mrs. Baumgartner, Lindy’s mom, was there too. Both of the adults were crying, but Ella was about the happiest baby in the world. She chewed on her slobbery fist and watched us all with big eyes. Lindy and Logan were happy to take a break and come on a vacation. Business was good in the catering world—almost more than they could handle. Davis had steered the Woodsmen corporate business their way and that had made a gigantic difference.
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride,” my grandmother said, and when my mom made a sound, Grammy shot her a look of absolute death. She pushed her walker over to Veronica. “Never,” Grammy repeated emphatically, looking directly into my mom's eyes. We had flown Veronica in from New York, where she had returned about week after I got hurt during the game. She had been promoting herself as my poor, single mother, doing interview after interview and appearing on TV more times than I could count. It didn’t land her any acting jobs, but she did end up with a stalker for a while. After a while I was very over her performances, so Davis had a discussion with her. Shortly later she was on her way back to off, off, off-Broadway. I was sure that some money had changed hands, and from how she now eyed him warily, some strong words from him. He wasn’t one to hold it in.
“I was going to agree with you, Mother,” Veronica told her. “Katriona, you’re lovely. You remind me a lot of myself.”
I heard Lindy snort. “Thank you, M
om,” I said. My dress was beautiful. I felt beautiful. And to see my grandma walking again after a successful surgery on her hip in Detroit was the best wedding gift in the world. She was happily living in a single room at the Lakeside, where she had wanted to stay. And now with her almost all-better hip, she was traveling the world, and I got to go with her. Davis too, when he wasn’t doing the football thing.
More than a year had passed since I had been knocked down on the field and Davis had told me that he loved me. Davis had come back to playing the past season, and the team went to the Divisional Finals but lost in a heartbreaker. I was sure they were going to get the Championship next season, and he was already raring to go. Kayden got traded, and was starting for another team. Maybe it was his fear of Davis, but he had gone .500, not bad at all.
Sam stuck his head into the room. “Everybody decent? Don’t worry, I’ve seen it all before. You about ready, Nutty?”
Sam had wanted to walk me down the aisle and after I asked my grandma if she minded, I had happily accepted. His daughter Ida was in the wedding too, as a very, very cute (and very young) flower girl. We were all relieved when she finally stopped crying, and now she resembled the calm and sweet Corinna in personality. Sam and Corinna had stayed in my old house, and we were in the process of transferring the title to them. They were a wonderful family and I knew they would fill the house with love and happy memories, just the way my grandparents had for me.
I gulped. “I’m ready. I think.”
“Piece of cake,” Sam told me. “You and I glide on up there, and I tell Davis that if he breaks your heart, I’ll tear him in two.”
“Piece of cake,” I answered, and kissed his cheek. Sam was the proud co-choreographer, along with Rochelle, of the Woodsmen Dancers. He may not have been the front office’s first choice, but with the Dancers all rooting for him, they had given him a shot. It had definitely worked out for the best—the Dancers were better than ever. Trish had come back a few times as a guest choreographer, much calmer now that she ran her own mediation center.
I had decided not to take a job with the team when that season ended, although Davis had exerted undue influence on the organization and they offered me basically any position I wanted besides head coach. Now I was painting, full-time. And selling some pieces, and doing better than I ever thought I would. Or could. I was excited to go to my studio every morning, even when Davis brought in his guitar to practice with me. The lessons had helped but he had a long way to go. He was nothing if not persistent.
Everyone kissed and hugged me and left to start their own trips down the aisle. Lindy wiped under her eyes. “Thanks for letting me pick my own matron of honor dress. I think getting hitched with him is a good thing, Katie. I’m happy the other guy with the carbuncle didn’t work out,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ll take Davis.” I would, anywhere, anytime. I felt a wave of love and happiness sweep through me just thinking about him. I looked up at the cloudless sky one last time. I couldn’t see the stars on this sunny day, but I knew they were there. I knew that Julian was there, too.
I took Sam’s arm and we walked slowly out to the beach. Despite his big talk, he was nervous as all get-out. “It’s fine,” I whispered, nudging him. “Just focus on Davis.” Because there he was, waiting with the judge up at the end of the aisle. Sam and I started toward him. I watched Davis’ face change as he saw me, from a little frown, to a smaller smile, to a big grin. I felt like we had gone for the risky play, the Hail Mary into the endzone.
Touchdown.
About the Author
Jamie Bennett is a reader turned writer (but still a reader). She enjoys formulating excuses to avoid going for a run and coming up with new ideas for books, sometimes simultaneously. Her other novels, The Moon Garden, Equinox, Tuck, Stroke by Stroke, Peaked, and Lost to Light are available on Amazon. You can reach her via Facebook @jamiebennettbooks.
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PREVIEW OF LOST TO LIGHT
Now available on Amazon
Corsair.
That was the first word that leapt into my mind when he walked into our Aesthetic Literature class. I had to thank last semester’s 18th and 19th Century British Poets course for even knowing that word.
He did, in fact, look like a pirate. Not just because of his dark beard, but something about the way he moved, like a swagger, a strut. He was walking in late so that almost every head in the room turned to look at him, but he seemed totally unconcerned. He had a confidence about him, almost like he owned the lecture hall. He waved to the professor, way down at the bottom of the room, as if he knew her. Then he sat a few chairs down from me, his long legs stretched out in front of him under the desk which now looked ridiculously undersized. He didn’t have a notebook, a laptop, a backpack, or anything else that would indicate that he was a student. He just cocked his head and waited, listening.
The professor’s mouth dropped open a little. This was my second course with her and she had been generally unflappable, even through a minor earthquake, and when half-way through our third class of the semester some guy had stood up in the middle of her lecture and said, “This isn’t what I was expecting. Total horseshit!” and walked out. But the appearance of this corsair made her stop mid-sentence as she discussed The Marble Faun. “Hawthorne was [big pause]—sorry, I’ve lost my place,” and Dr. Rooney looked at the notes stacked on the podium in front of her for a moment, disconcerted.
I only realized that I was staring at him when he turned my way and looked me straight in the face. He had warm brown eyes and thick dark eyebrows, which he now cocked up in a question to me. It wasn’t like, what are you looking at? He seemed to ask, do you like what you see?
I whipped my head back in the direction of the professor and I heard him laugh softly. Who wouldn’t like what she saw? He was one of the most attractive guys I’d ever laid eyes on—not even the thick beard could disguise his strong jaw and high cheekbones. His lips. His straight nose, his olive skin. He was so big that he barely fit into the lecture hall chair.
I put my mind back on Nathaniel Hawthorne and The Marble Faun as the professor returned to her lecture. I had read it last night coming home on the bus through Oakland, my head dipping until it brushed the pages as I nodded off. Not my favorite book.
When the class was over, I pretended to take a long time putting the novel away so I wouldn’t have to walk past the corsair in his aisle seat. He stood slowly and stretched his arms behind him at an almost impossible angle, like his shoulders bent the wrong way. Then he casually loped down to the front of the room, where he stood talking to Dr. Rooney for a few moments.
There was only so long that I could pretend to put away my book and gear. Reluctantly, I swung my bag over my shoulder. I looked one last time before I left the room, and both he and the professor were laughing. It was hard to tell from so far away, but it looked like she was blushing. Blushing?
I hurried out to the street and down to the bus stop to catch the number six. Good, it was mostly empty. I got my favorite seat next to the window, right at the back door. Sixteen people.
The bus wobbled a little as it inched to the next stop and jerked to a halt. The doors scraped closed after three more passengers shuffled on. Nineteen. I evened out my breathing. I wondered about the corsair. I told myself that I was fine.
After a few more stops we were at twenty-five passengers. I could do this. I kept my eyes on the window as Telegraph Avenue moved past. Focus on the outside, focus on that bird, the sky, the guy selling bracelets on the corner.
Seven more. Thirty-two total. I shifted in my seat and fingered my earbuds. Today I was trying classical music, Vivaldi, but it wasn’t helping that much. The bus stopped at a red light and the man in the aisle leaned over, making my seatmate press into me.
That was it. I jumped up and yanked the cord, then pushed past the other riders to the exit. Some days were just like this. I would walk
to catch the next bus. Sometimes the commute just took longer.
I was only a few minutes late to work.
“Hi, Maura,” Joana greeted me when she let me in the back door into the kitchen.
“Hey, Joana.” I glanced at the back staircase. “Is Benji home already?”
She handed me a tray. “About twenty minutes ago. Try to get him to drink the milk.”
I took the tray and walked up the steep staircase that servants in this house had used for more than a hundred years to move between the floors. His door was firmly closed and I tapped on it with my foot. “Benji? Open up, I have your snack.”
The door cracked open. “Maura, you know I hate it when you call me that.” His pale, pointy face peered up at me, frowning. I wasn’t hugely tall, but Benji was teeny for a 10-year-old.
I nudged open the door with the tray. “How was school, buddy? How did the math test go?”
He flopped down on his bed and sighed. “It was ridiculously easy. Pitifully simple.”
I winced. “I hope you didn’t mention that to the other kids.”
“Why?”
I tugged his foot. “I remember the email from the teacher saying that this chapter was going to be a challenging for everyone. Would you like it if someone went around saying that something was pitifully simple if you thought it was hard?”
“I didn’t go around saying it.” He dropped his voice. “Much.” I sighed. “But it wasn’t hard. The other kids are idiots.” Benji had put his pillow over his face and now his voice was muffled.
“I hope you didn’t mention that to them, either.” Now I pulled at the pillow. “Come eat your snack. Joana says you have to drink your milk, and then we’re going out to play.”
“I have to do my homework.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Liar.” Benji routinely finished his assignments before he got home, at the lunch table where he ate by himself, or on the bus where no one would sit next to him. That was the information I had teased out of him, and what his teachers had told me at his parent/teacher conference. He even finished all the supplemental work his math teacher devised to keep him from being bored, and read the books I forced on him to try to broaden his focus.
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