by T L Gray
He pushed off the door and strolled casually over to my desk. I tried not to watch him but failed miserably. His shirt hugged every muscle in his chest and arms, and the black design creeping down his forearm called to me, left questions that begged to be answered. What did it mean and why had he chosen it?
When he positioned himself next to me, I took a deep breath and tried to look like a professional and not some teenage groupie.
“May I?” His voice was soft as he placed his hands on the back of my neck. I could only nod for fear that my voice would give away how much his closeness affected me. Then all thought was gone as pain tore through my neck and down my back.
“Ouch!” I tried to pull away, but his strong hands kept me immobile.
“It will only hurt for a second.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as the pain continued, but soon the ache gave way and all I could feel were Matt’s skillful hands massaging my neck and shoulders. I relaxed into him, forgetting for a moment that he hated me or that I wanted to cry every time he insulted me. My head fell back, strands of hair brushing along his solid stomach. I closed my eyes, enjoying the forbidden connection far more than I should have.
The massage stopped abruptly. Seconds later he was on the other side of my desk with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
I stood, rolling my neck to ensure the pain was gone. It was. “Thank you. Where did you learn to do that?”
He was still in complete control, while I was a mass of jittery hormones. “I wrestle a lot, which means I’d either have to hire a full-time chiropractor or learn a few tricks. You really should get yourself a decent mattress.”
I willed myself to toughen up. “So I met Marcus yesterday. I got a growl and a grumble out of him, but I guess that’s a start.”
Matt smirked slightly. “I’m going to have my hands full with that one.” He walked over to the couch and sat on the armrest. “I’m still trying to figure out where to begin.”
It was unspoken, but I sensed a truce between the two of us, as if his willingness to talk about Marcus showed his support in some way. Feeling empowered, I walked around to the front of my desk and leaned against it, facing him. I tried to match his relaxed stance, but immediately missed the familiar barrier when his eyes drifted down the length of me and back up again. His face gave nothing away and I forced myself to continue.
“I called his aunt yesterday just to talk and introduce myself.”
One eyebrow shot up in surprise. “How did it go?”
“Great, actually. She’s a wonderful lady and I could tell she loves Marcus very much. She works the swing shift six days a week, so she thanked me for giving Marcus a safe place to be.” Emotion gripped my heart when I remembered her appreciation and tears, but I quickly pulled myself together.
“Anyway, she said that he’s become more and more withdrawn over the past several months, but he won’t tell her what’s going on. They used to be close, but now he hardly talks to her. She was hoping maybe you could break through to him. He hasn’t had any positive male influence in his life, ever.”
Matt watched me so intensely that I couldn’t stand still any longer. I started to fidget, pretending I was looking for something on my desk. For what, I had no idea, but I needed to get away from that stare. Finally I saw the notes I’d taken while talking with Marcus’s aunt and grabbed them.
“I can make a copy if you’d like.” I held the notes out to him.
Matt walked toward me slowly, but didn’t take the paper from my trembling hand. Instead, his gaze fell over me like a caress and I found myself wanting desperately to touch him.
“You were smart to make the call, Grace. I wouldn’t have thought to include her.”
His words brought an immediate smile, partly because they were kind, but mostly because he said my name in the sweetest way. We were inches apart now and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his lips. Would they feel as soft as they look?
My heart thudded against my chest as we stood there, silently watching each other. He stepped closer and adrenaline surged through me. Ever so slowly, his hand touched mine, removing the paper from my grip, and all I could think of was closing the gap between our bodies.
The shrill of the phone caused me to jump.
Matt immediately broke contact and walked out the door without a word. I stood, paralyzed, scandalously wishing he’d done more than just look at me.
The phone continued its demanding chirp until I reconnected with reality and grabbed the receiver.
“Hartsford Children’s Center, this is Grace.”
“Gracie Belle! How are you?”
I couldn’t help but smile at Sam’s delighted tone. Only my family and close friends ever called me Gracie Belle.
“Hi, Sam. I’m good. Just trying to get myself settled in.”
“Excellent! I spoke to Liz earlier and she thinks you are going to be fantastic.” Somehow I doubted Liz used those words, but the praise still made me smile. “So what’s first on your agenda?”
Despite his friendly demeanor and our close relationship, Sam was still my boss, so I immediately went over some of my observations and ideas.
“This place runs great, but we’re busting at the seams. Darius thinks we may have to turn some kids away if the trend continues.”
“How is Darius? It’s been a while since I’ve been down there.”
“He’s working too much, for starters. He’s here every day for at least twelve hours with no assistance. If we don’t hire him some help, then I’m afraid he’s going to run out of steam.”
“Darius? Not likely. I’ve never met a more dedicated man. Are the counselors complaining?”
“No, but there’s two of them. Regardless, we’ve got to get more staff in here. I was thinking, if we could share hours, maybe we could start opening the doors on Sunday, even do some church services here.”
“Won’t that ruin our chances at those federal grants you told me about?”
I hesitated for a second, not wanting to sound argumentative. “Sam, your firearm policy already disqualifies you, so it really doesn’t matter. Also, I know you don’t want to hear this, but we need to renovate the rest of the building.”
I could hear Sam quietly breathing on the other end while he processed everything I had just thrown at him. When the center opened, they only renovated half of the building, leaving the back of it closed off. Darius had walked me through it the other day, and I knew the renovation would be a million-dollar project.
“Gracie, there is no money outside of the operations budget. I’m sorry. We had two investors fall through last year, and I’ve already committed to the new center in New York. Without that grant, we may even need to cut our hours, not extend them. I’ll be honest with you, the center’s future is rocky.”
“What if I could raise the money? Would you give me the go-ahead to hire two new positions?”
“Of course. In fact, if you could get the money for the renovations, I’d gladly come down and help you oversee it. Don’t get your hopes up too high, though. You know I want that place to succeed, but by now the operation should be self-sustaining. The city loves us, but they have yet to support us.”
Excitement shot through me. “That’s all I needed to hear, Sam. We’re going to get that money. You just wait.”
I heard his bellowing laugh. “Your unending optimism is exactly why I hired you. Just let me know what you need on my end.”
“I definitely will, and thank you, Sam, for believing in me.”
“You know I always have.”
I hung up the phone feeling total elation. After spending the next hour going through figures and the wish list that Darius gave me, I circled the bottom line with a red marker: $2,000,000. It would be a challenge, but I knew I could do it with the right strategy. Grabbing the phone again, I dialed the one person I knew who was capable of raising that kind of money.
“Mom? I need your help.”
Chapter 9
&nb
sp; * * *
MATT
I needed to be shot.
No, I needed to be strung up on the highest mountain so the world could see what a complete idiot I am. I almost kissed Grace! At the center . . . with her door open . . . right in front of hundreds of kids. Luckily, no one seemed to notice us, or the way I bolted from her office, barely able to catch my breath.
Three days away from the center should have been enough to get my head screwed on straight. I had even traveled back to my hometown and driven by my mother’s disgusting apartment in hopes of putting the past to rest for good. It was the first time I had seen it since that horrible day. Nothing had changed except it looked more run-down.
I drove away before the nausea made it to my throat, remembering the bright yellow police tape that had been placed in an X across the door. Next I went by my old apartment, the one my mother moved us into when we ran from my father the first time. The closure I’d hoped for didn’t happen. Maggie still haunted me, and the nightmares of my mother’s death were getting worse and terrifyingly vivid.
Finding an empty spot in the bleachers, I lowered my head to my hands. I was losing control. I could feel it in my training and even with Bruce. I’d been testy and short-tempered, lashing out for no reason.
Yet there I was, drawn to Grace, when I knew I needed to stay away.
A hand settled on my shoulder. “You all right, man?”
I looked up to see Darius watching me, his eyes full of concern. We had known each other awhile and never once had he seen me so disheartened.
Standing up to stretch, I found my center like Bruce taught me to do. “I’m good. Just tired.”
“It’s open gym right now, and Marcus has already started running his mouth. The boys are getting agitated, so you may want to get over there.”
Glancing at the little boy who was taunting everyone around him, I couldn’t help but smile. That’s what I used to do whenever I felt afraid or insignificant. Heck, I was still doing that with Grace, so I obviously hadn’t grown out of the defensive behavior.
Jogging over to him, I jumped up for the rebound before Marcus had a chance to get the ball.
“Hey, man!” he yelled as the boys around him snickered.
My scowl silenced them. “You boys find another hoop. Marcus and I have this one.”
Disgustedly, the boys moved over to one of the other five hoops in the gym. I could see why they were annoyed. The gym was packed.
“I don’t want to play with you,” Marcus grunted, folding his arms.
I locked eyes with him. “Then go sit out.” I held his stare, unblinking and direct, until Marcus finally looked away and squirmed.
“Fine. Make it, take it, and I get the first ball.”
I swallowed a laugh at his annoyed expression and tossed the ball through the hoop. Marcus caught it and then backed up to start the game. Standing in front of him, I wondered what he was thinking. He was small for his age and I stood at six foot two, with long arms poised and ready to swat the ball away at any moment. His determination won out, and like a raging bull, he charged and had the ball through the hoop before I’d even reacted. I grabbed the ball and tossed it to him, getting ready again. Time to pay attention.
After three straight shots, I finally blocked his attempt and got the ball. The boys from earlier started laughing when I sank two straight from the free throw line.
“You gonna stand there and shoot the whole time like a girl or actually play the game?” Marcus taunted.
I shrugged before landing my third perfect shot. “I can’t help it if you’re vertically challenged. Why don’t you at least attempt to block me?”
Marcus threw the ball back at me, his face contorted with rage. I dribbled twice and he charged. Knowing immediately that he was thinking with his emotions and not his brain, I easily sidestepped him for a layup.
He cursed and the other boys laughed harder, catching my attention. I glanced up just in time to hear Marcus tell them very colorfully to back off. When they responded in much the same way, Marcus charged in their direction. I was on him in three easy steps and hauled him back to the side.
“You need to calm down,” I hissed in his ear as I held him.
He struggled against my firm grip. “Get off of me! Don’t touch me!
When we were a safe distance from the court, I let him go. Tears pooled in his hard eyes. “I don’t want you to touch me.” Marcus’s breath was gone. Panic sweat slicked his skin. “I don’t like being touched.”
I knew how he felt. It took years before a man could touch me without me wanting to jump or throw a punch. I did my best to make my voice calm, nonthreatening. “I’m not going to hurt you. You lost your cool. If you get in another fight, your next suspension will be two weeks. Is that what you want?”
Marcus swiped his eyes with the back of his hand before throwing his ID on the floor. “What I want is for you to leave me alone!” Then he was out the door in a sprint.
I grabbed his ID and placed it on the counter before going after him. He made it across the street to a bus stop and then slumped down on the bench. I gave him a minute to collect himself before sitting down next to him.
“Sheesh, man, take a hint.” He scooted as far away as the bench would allow.
“I get why you don’t want to be touched, Marcus.” My voice was calm. “My old man, he knew that I hated him touching me, and so he’d mess with my head, just to see what I would do. Sometimes he’d pat my cheek, smiling when I flinched, and other times it was a backhand, just to let me know who was still in charge.”
I waited for his reaction. He glanced my way, making eye contact, but didn’t say a word.
“Why don’t you come back in, finish the game at least? It beats sitting out here in the hot sun.”
“You gonna stop messing with me and actually play the game?” He jutted his chin defiantly.
“I don’t know. Are you gonna stop playing like a crazy person and get your head straight?”
Marcus squared his shoulders and turned to me. “It’s called playing with heart.”
“People like you and me, we’ve got more heart than most. We’re driven by it, but we can be ruined by it, too. What you have to do is think.” I tapped my head for emphasis. “Then, your opponent has nothing on you.”
Marcus stood and crossed his arms. “Where’s your old man now?”
“He’s dead.”
“You kill him?”
“Nope.” I stood and headed back toward the center. Marcus trailed behind but was following me. It wasn’t a huge victory, but at least it was a start.
I spent the rest of the evening at the center. Marcus and I played two more rounds of ball before Darius closed the court for intramurals. When I asked Marcus why he wasn’t on a team, he just shrugged and headed off to the game room. Not wanting to push the little trust that we finally had, I gave him some space and busied myself helping Darius referee the games.
Grace spent most of the evening in her office on the phone. I tried not to look, but couldn’t help but glance in when no one was watching. She joined us for the last game, though, and found a seat on the bleachers. Warmth spread through me when the kids surrounded her and she talked with each of them. Her smile was pure and sunny and never failed to light up her face or set off the dimples around her mouth. She affectionately ruffled the kids’ hair or patted them on the back. I was struck by her ease with them, as if she’d known each of these kids their whole life.
I rubbed my hands over my face, felt the scrape of a day’s growth of beard, and reminded myself again that I needed to stay away.
Darius blew the whistle and yelled, “Time-out!” bringing me back from my thoughts.
“Yo, ref, that guy totally fouled me! Are you even paying attention?” a kid yelled as he brushed past me in a fit of anger. Normally, I’d take the boy aside and have words with him, but he was right. The minute Grace stepped out of her office, my head left the game.
“Watch your tone,�
�� was all I said as I jogged off to grab a cup of water.
Struggling to keep my eyes off Grace the rest of the game, I focused on the players. The game ended up coming down to the last second, when the same kid who yelled at me sunk a three-point shot before the buzzer went off. His team stormed the court and lifted him up with cheers. His face beamed with pride, and his joy was contagious. These kids didn’t get many moments of victory.
I wondered if Grace saw it, too, that look on his face. Hope. It was the look that kept me coming back to this place. The look I prayed I would get to see on Marcus’s face one day.
My eyes sought her out, only to find her high-fiving the superstar and laughing. The winning coach joined them and then sent the boy back to the team. I expected the man to follow, but he lingered, standing much too close to Grace for my comfort. I’d met him before. He was a nice enough guy, but in that moment I wanted to rip his hand off, especially when I saw him lightly touch her arm.
Seeing the kids huddled by the bench, I blew my whistle. “Coach, finish up with your boys so we can close up.”
He touched Grace’s arm again before jogging back to the bench.
I knew what was happening the minute my stomach filled with heat, and I closed my eyes to get control of myself. Hearing Bruce’s voice in my head, I went through the steps to calm my erratic heartbeat and stop my shaking hands. On the fifth deep breath, I finally felt peace return and was able to open my eyes again. Just my luck, Grace was the first thing I saw and she was staring right at me, no doubt seeing my weakness. When she saw me notice, she quickly turned away and scurried back to her office, leaving me to start the process all over again.
Chapter 10
* * *
GRACE
Matt was still at the center, helping with the final cleanup for the night. It was the first time he’d stayed that long, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the moment we shared earlier had anything to do with it. My mind ached to talk to him, get to know him, explain this crazy infatuation I had with him. The way he watched me all night had me believing he felt the pull, too.