by Sierra Hill
“Let me get this straight. You just expect me to leave everything behind to relocate for you so that you can have a live-in nanny and a beck-and-call girl service at your disposal. Did I get that right?”
I’ve never heard Brooklyn raise her voice in this manner. Apparently, I’ve never provoked her enough to warrant such ire. Tension drips from her biting words, her body coiled in an unfamiliar resistance.
Instinctively, I reach for her, hoping to temper some of the maelstrom in her vitriolic comment.
“Brooklyn. Please,” I offer lamely. “That’s not why I want you to come with us and you know it.”
“Don’t touch me, Garrett. This whole decision of yours, while it’s great for you, is not for me. I’m not moving to Indiana and I’m sorry if you thought otherwise. You obviously haven’t heard a thing I’ve said over the last three months if you just expect me to drop everything to chase after you.”
My neck snaps back as if she’s thrown a vicious punch with her statement.
“That’s not what I thought at all. You have it all wrong. I don’t want to lose you and I’ve done some research on the school and your program. I wouldn’t expect you to stop pursuing your dreams of finishing your degree. I love that about you, Brooklyn.”
Not wanting to encroach on her space, but needing to touch her in some way, I let my pinky feather over her knuckles, her hand hanging at her side. She doesn’t pull away, but it isn’t a warm reception and she certainly doesn’t reciprocate the affection.
Caleb’s comment seems to throw a little levity in this tense argument and has us both gritting our teeth to keep from laughing out loud.
“Daddy, Brook mad. She very mad.”
“Oh, buddy,” she responds, her tone bathing him in feminine tenderness. She places a hand on top of his head, gently soothing him with a rub of his neck, in which he literally turns into putty in her hand.
“I’m sorry if I sound angry. I’m not mad at you or your dad. I was just taken by surprise.” Her eyes flit to mine and I know what she means without saying it. “I’m just sad about the situation. It’s grown-up stuff and doesn’t mean we’re mad at you. Okay?”
He nods and asks to get down to play until the food arrives, which I hope is soon. Food always helps diffuse anger in any situation.
Caleb goes off to play in the family room while we both watch him make his way there. She slowly turns to me again, folding her arms across her chest.
“Garrett, I think I should say goodbye. This summer has been amazing. You are an amazing man and father, and I do love you. But I can’t go with you. This is where our lives go in divergent ways. I think your opportunity sounds wonderful and I’m so happy for you. Really, I am.”
She unlocks her arms and wraps them around me in a tight hug, as she whispers in my ear. “I hope it’s everything you want it to be for you and Caleb. Goodbye, Garrett. I’ll miss you.”
And then with a brief kiss on my cheek, Brooklyn drops her hands, walks slowly into the living room where she crouches down next to Caleb, gives him a hug and kiss, and then walks out the front door as I just watch her go.
It’s only as the door closes that I hear, “I’ll always love you.”
40
Brooklyn
I had no idea that your heart can actually hurt from heartbreak.
My chest feels like it’s been ripped open, my heart yanked out with pliers, thrown on the ground, mowed over with a lawnmower, cleaved and chopped to pieces with a meat grinder, and then returned to the empty cavity in my body.
Drama queen, much?
Maybe a little, but this has been a living hell.
There’s been no consoling me the last four weeks. And believe me, there’s been plenty of attempts by Peyton, my girlfriends, my mother, and even Kyler, who is a staunch oppositionist of love and relationships. He’s even been kind enough (okay, I made him) to stay with me today and watch Gone with the Wind in its entirety.
It’s one of my all-time favorite classic movies because of the character of Scarlett. I love her transformation in the film and the book because she goes from this meek little brat, who thinks she has to have a man, to dealing with some of the most horrendous things a woman must live through. On her own.
She deals with the loss of parents, her child, a freaking Civil War, the death of her best friend and then her husband. But she comes out tougher and stronger than she was going into it all and that’s why I love the movie.
“You do realize, Manhattan, that you’re exactly like Scarlett.”
I make a face at Kyler, who is sprawled out across the one long couch we have, turning to glare at him from my pretzel-like position on the loveseat. He’s been calling me by the moniker of Manhattan instead of Brooklyn recently for no other reason than he thinks it’s funny and is being ironic.
When I moved back into my bedroom, we offered to let Kyler stay with us until the furnished studio apartment on the first floor comes available in October. It’s actually been great having him stay with us, and especially having a male opinion on matters of the heart.
“I’m nothing like her. She was a brat with no warmth or empathy toward anyone but herself. She used people and played games to get what she wanted. I’ve never done that.”
Kyler rolls his eyes at me. “Right. You never play games.”
I sit up from the couch, throwing off the blanket I’d been cuddled in for the last hour and hit the Pause button on the remote.
“You got something to say there, Kyler Scott? Say it to my face. What kind of games do I play?”
He repeats my actions and sits up off the couch, swinging his legs over so his bare feet hit the floor, thrusting his arm out at me.
“Give me your phone,” he demands.
“What? No. Why do you want it?”
I lift it from the coffee table, cradling it in my hands, protecting it by cradling it to my chest like it’s a baby or a precious object.
“Give it to me.” He flaps his hands and I grunt with displeasure.
“Fine, take it.”
Curious as to what he’s doing, I watch him swipe the screen lock and open up my texts. He scrolls through the log.
“One. Two. Three,” he counts, pausing to look up at me as he says, “And that’s just on one day last week.”
He resumes scrolling and counting until he gets to ten. Then he stops, carefully placing the phone back in my hands as I snatch it back.
“Brooklyn, Garrett has tried so many times to get in touch with you and you’ve ignored his calls. Not only is that fucking rude, but it’s a game to bust a guy’s balls like that.”
I snort. “I’m not ball-busting anyone. I’ve been busy when he’s called and by the time I’m free, it’s late.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a pillow whizzing toward my face and I duck to avoid being hit.
“What the hell?”
“You’re so full of it, Manhattan. You’re avoiding him and because of that, he’s had to hand in his man-card because he’s being such a pathetic loser.”
Growling, I throw the pillow back, which he catches and places over his lap.
“Garrett is not a loser.”
In the few short months I’ve known Kyler, I’ve found him to be oddly full of wisdom and a really great listener. Plus, he’s funny, sarcastic and a whole lot of fun to be around, but he also has no problem giving it to you straight. Which seems to be the case now.
“Let’s put it this way. Girls like to be chased. I get it. And men, because of all that prehistoric cavemen shit, enjoy chasing because when they get their prize, it makes them beat their chests like King Kong. It’s good for the ego and increases our testosterone levels. But going through the motions and never getting what they’re after? Well, that’s another story. And let me tell you, I’m feeling pretty sad for poor Garrett’s ego right now.”
“Pfft. He has no problem in the ego department, Kyler. The man was an NBA superstar and a player in his time. And honest-to-God, I’m not
doing this to hurt him.” Kyler’s eyes narrow on me.
“Well, not too much. It’s more or less out of self-preservation. That first night after they moved, and he had me FaceTime with Caleb? I cried myself to sleep after that and decided from then on, I just couldn’t do that to myself. It was too much. I can only be strong up to a point.”
Kyler chews his bottom lip and then scrunches his face. “So, how are you going to handle seeing him at the upcoming wedding reception? Aren’t they mutual friends of you both?”
I nod. “Yeah, Lance Britton. He was one of Garrett’s players last year and then he coached with him this summer. It was actually Lance who brought us together.”
“Aw, sweet story,” Kyler coos, making kissing noises. “How cute.”
“I actually ran into Lance on campus that other day. He was hired as an Assistant Coach to cover for the vacancy when Garrett left. I may have asked him if Garrett would be there.”
Kyler nudges my shin with his bare toes. “Well, there you go. It’ll be the best time for you two to talk things over. Even if it proves fruitless and you don’t get back together, you can still fuck each other’s brains out because everyone does that at weddings.”
“You’re a perv. That’s not gonna happen.” I give him a wink and a nudge back. “But I like the way you think.”
41
Garrett
I always want things I can’t have. Isn’t that our constant human condition?
I’m an unwitting victim of the grass is always greener effect.
It’s been that way my whole life. I see something I want, I work to get it. Once I have it, I want something else.
My life is full of decisions based on this way of thinking. In fact, after Becca’s death and the trauma with Caleb, I started seeing a therapist at the suggestion of my coach, to identify what I was doing and why.
My therapist called it self-sabotage. I called it stupidity. The moment something is going well or right in my life, I do something to fuck it up. Case in point, taking the job in Indiana and ruining things for me and Brooklyn.
I’m telling this all to Lucas as we sit in a bar and commiserate over this most recent stupid decision.
“Nothing turned out the way I expected it to,” I lament over the third bottle of Stella I’ve had since landing in Phoenix. I’m back for the weekend to attend Lance’s wedding reception.
“Oh yeah? What did you expect?” Lucas gives a sarcastic quirk of his brows as he tips back his martini.
“Well, I didn’t expect that my mom would get sick almost immediately upon our arrival in our new home. So sick, in fact, she wasn’t able to take care of Caleb after school or in the evenings, so I had to find a sitter service who specialized in special needs kids. Talk about looking for a needle in a haystack. And then there’s the part where I realized I was scammed about this new job.”
“The ol’ bait and switch, eh?”
“Exactly,” I bemoan, sliding my fingers through my hair with a sigh. “Everything they promised I’d have in this basketball program had been compromised by the dirty coach who I come to find out the NCAA was investigating under claims of recruitment violations with incoming freshman. While I’m not being incriminated for any of the scandals, it still sheds a poor light on my program and doesn’t leave me much of a chance to turn it around.”
He tips his head thoughtfully. “I’ve seen you pull out some pretty fucking big miracles from your players, G. And even more so with Caleb.”
God, Caleb. Have I ruined him?
“That’s the worst part, Luc. Caleb’s progress has been thwarted by this move. He’d been doing so well with his walking and communication, but his moods turned sullen and depressed. I had no idea a kid his age could have these types of emotional breakdowns, we’re talking Def-Con 5 levels. But he’s definitely reverted back to his old behaviors.”
“Well, what were you doing before that was working and helping regulate those moods?”
I stare blankly at Lucas, giving him the ‘Do I have to spell it out for you’ look.
As if the light dawns on him, his mouth open in an O. “Brooklyn. Right.”
“I’m telling you, the only bright spot to all of this is that I just heard from Bob Guthry yesterday about Penelope’s lawsuit. The petition has been dismissed by the judge who wouldn’t consider reversing her parental rights petition. I about shit my pants, not gonna lie.”
Lucas claps my shoulder hard. “That’s wonderful news, bro. I’m so happy for you and Caleb. This is definitely cause for a celebration.”
I thought so, too. But even with that great news, I still found myself at my wits end the week leading up to this trip back to Phoenix. I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel and give up and go back home.
Home is where Brooklyn is.
All I can think about is how or what I can do to win Brooklyn back.
And then an idea landed in my lap and I was smiling the rest of the week.
As I walk through the massive party tent, decorated with silver streamers and white shimmering twinkle-lights strung from the rafters, I see the familiar faces of former ASU basketball players all mingling about.
Heading to a large bar at the back side of the tent, I weave through the room and scoot around large groups of people, many speaking Spanish, a language I don’t know. It makes sense since this reception was put on by Micaela’s family, specifically for her family. As I pass, many look up and wave or nod and I return it in kind.
“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender asks.
“How about a Corona?” He nods and swiftly bends to pick up a beer bottle from the ice-filled tub near his feet and hands it to me over the bar top.
“That’ll be four-dollars, please.”
I pull a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and slap it on the counter. “Thanks, man.”
Turning to survey the crowd, I hear him say “De nada” as he moves to the other people waiting for their drinks. My back is partially to the side when I feel a large, meaty palm slam down on my shoulder.
“Hey, Coach Parker. Good to see you here, bro. I thought you left town.”
I spin around to come eye level to Carver Edwards, a former ASU player who graduated a year before I took on the coaching spot, and who is now playing for the pro team up in Seattle.
We shake hands and he clinks my beer bottle with his.
“How’s it going, Edwards? Yes, I’m back for the weekend. Didn’t want to miss out on Britton’s party. I’m surprised to see you here, too. I’d have thought you’d be playing this weekend.”
Carver tips his head in a nod. “The team played last night so I hopped a plane down so I could celebrate Lance and Mica. Me and the missus fly back tomorrow morning.”
As if summoned, a beautiful, tall blonde steps into view, as Carver grins broadly, opening his arm to cradle her into his body.
“Garrett Parker, this is my wife, Logan.”
We greet with a shake. “Great to meet you, Coach. Carver and I watched all the ASU games on TV last year when he was home. We’re big fans of our team.”
Carver interjects, bending his head down to be heard over the noise.
“Coach isn’t at ASU anymore. He took a head coaching job in Indiana this year.” He stands to his full height and meets my gaze. “Did I hear that right? Lance mentioned that’s why he got the spot on the coaching staff.”
I scan the crowded area around the three of us, checking to see if anyone is within earshot or listening. Seeing it’s safe to talk, I fill them in on the news.
“Well, that was true up until two days ago, when I gave them my resignation.” Carver’s eyes grow wide and I lift a finger to my lips to signal the secrecy. “That isn’t common knowledge yet, so please don’t mention it to anyone. Especially the press.”
We laugh at the reference, as we have a mutual dislike of the press as it relates to our personal lives. I recall Carver battled quite a bit of media interference a few years ago regarding an adopted son.
/>
“Of course, your secret is safe with us. But what happened, if I may ask?” Logan says, peering up at us both.
“Let’s just say the grass wasn’t greener. My home is here and that’s where I want to be. There might also be a woman who drew me back.”
Carver chuckles, pushing his hand out to fist bump with me in acknowledgment.
“Isn’t that always the case?” He smiles down at his glowing wife.
“Congratulations on your marriage, by the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to swing through the crowd to see if I can find the woman I’m here for.”
“You got it, Coach. And good luck with that.”
I glance back at the happy couple, lifting my crossed fingers in the air. “I’ll need it!”
42
Brooklyn
“God, this is such a bad idea. How could I let you con me into wearing this tonight?”
I grouse at Peyton, who just smirks at me with her know-it-all grin, as I wobble on the heels and try to walk upright in the tight slip of a dress she made me wear.
“Girl, you will thank me later after you get some, because you look hot as fuckity-fuck. Garrett Parker is going to take one look at you and...” She stops short.
“And what?” I prod, giving her a ‘go on’ stare.
She clears her throat and backs up two steps, causing me all sorts of confusion.
“I have to go…to the restroom…” Peyton points a thumb in the opposite direction behind her, turns and skips away, leaving me gaping at her sudden disappearance.
“Wait, I’ll go with you.”
“Hello, sweetheart.”
My tongue swells and throat tightens, my tummy dropping to my toes and my heart shimmying in some weird Latin-style dance move at the sound of Garrett’s deep, resonating voice. It sweeps over me like a paintbrush and colors my cheeks with a bright pink flush.
I’m stranded and stuck, watching Peyton run for the door of the tent and turning to find Garrett standing in front of me, looking all too gorgeous decked out in his gray suit and blue tie. Damn him for being here and looking so fine.