Tackled by Love

by Rachael Duncan

  “The way you’re accustomed to?” I’m in total disbelief. “Did you forget where you came from, darling? You were one step up from living in a trailer when we were growing up.” I know that’s a low blow, and her parents work their asses off, but she’s bringing out the worst in me.

  “Go to hell! You’re such an asshole.” She brushes past me and heads toward the front door.

  “And you’re a gold digging bitch. Make sure you leave your key to my house,” I spit back.

  She throws her head back slightly and lets out an evil laugh as she turns around to face me. The sound of it actually makes the hairs on my arms stand up. “Your house? I wouldn’t get used to that one, babe, because I plan to ask for it in the divorce settlement,” she says with a smirk on her face.

  “Oh, really? And how do you think you’re going to afford to live here? You couldn’t even pay the fucking light bill on your own,” I say with my arms crossed over my chest.

  “It’s called alimony, Landon.” She cocks her hip out to the side and puts her hands on them. “You see, I know you won’t be unemployed forever. And when you do get a new job, I plan to collect on it. Take care, love,” she says as she wiggles her fingers at me in a wave, opens the front door, and pulls her suitcase behind her.

  When the door closes, I pull my arm back and punch the wall. Then I punch it again and again, until there’s a massive hole in it and chunks of drywall litter the floor. If she wants the house, she can fix the damn hole in the wall herself. My outburst does little to settle the rush of anger that has overwhelmed me and a ball of fire is sitting in the pit of my stomach. I guess I’ll douse that fire with some good old liquor.

  I go to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a full glass of scotch and take it to my man cave, where I sit in my leather recliner and flip on the TV. I feel my phone vibrate from within my pocket. I almost don’t pull it out afraid that it’s Val, but I decide to take a look and see who it is anyway.

  Dustin flashes across the screen. I send it to voicemail. There’s no way in hell I’m talking to my agent right now. A second later, it vibrates again, this time with a text.

  Dustin: CALL ME ASAP!

  I’m about to put the phone in my pocket when it goes off again.

  Dustin: SERIOUSLY. CALL ME NOW!

  And a few minutes later.

  Dustin: IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE IF YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE RETIRING. INSTEAD I GOTTA HEAR THAT SHIT FROM THE LOCKER ROOM GOSSIP? THAT’S FUCKED UP. CALL ME.

  “Shit.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands trying to relieve the headache building behind them. Things went downhill so damn fast and I have no idea how to stop this freight train that seems to be crashing through my life. I guess first thing’s first. I’m going to finish this glass of scotch and call my agent back. He deserves to hear what’s going on and I’m sure he’s gotten some distorted story that’s been passed through the grapevine.

  ***

  After I get off the phone with Dustin, I head to bed. The phone call went a lot better than I had anticipated. Once he got over his initial anger that I didn’t call him immediately, and shock at the fact that I was retiring, he was really supportive. He said he was sad to see his paycheck take a cut, but that he agreed with the doctor; it wasn’t worth risking permanent injury.

  Looking up at the ceiling fan in my room, I contemplate my next move. I guess it’s time to go back to where it all began.

  I start washing my hands at the sink behind the counter before I slip on my apron and begin my day decorating. September is always a busy time of year at the bakery and today is no exception. We have lots of birthday cakes due at the end of this week.

  “Good morning, Autumn,” Brenda, the owner, says by way of greeting.

  “Good morning, Brenda. Where do you want me to start first?” I look at the bulletin board against the wall that has all of the cakes for this week on it.

  “If you want to start on that Sweet Sixteen cake, you can.” She points to the sketch that’s decorated in neon colors and animal print. It should be a fun one to do.

  “Sounds good to me.” I walk over to my station, ready to get started.

  I began working here while I was in high school. Back then, I was the delivery girl on the weekends. Soon enough, I worked my way up and started to pick up on easy decorating techniques. Upon Brenda’s urging—more like nagging if you want to know the truth—I went to school to learn how to decorate cakes. And the rest is history as they say.

  “So what’s the latest? You seem a little antsy this morning.” I get out a tub of fondant and mix it with some bright pink food coloring.

  “Landon is coming home today.”Her voice is giddy as she claps her hands in excitement.

  Landon, as in The Landon Stone. If you haven’t figured it out, I work for his mother. We went to high school together, but we didn’t exactly run in the same circles. I was the nerdy fat girl with braces and coke bottle glasses, and he was the popular jock that could get any girl he wanted. And he wanted Valerie Lane, the head cheerleader. If we were any more cliché, we’d be in some lame teenage movie that went straight to DVD. Landon was always polite to me whenever he actually noticed me, which wasn’t often. Valerie? Not so much. Her little clique of friends went out of their way to make my life a living hell. Even though I lost the weight¸ ditched the glasses and the metal from my teeth, the hurt from their cruel words still haunts me at times.

  “That’s great. How’s he holding up?” Everyone around town has been talking about his injury and speculating on what’s causing his separation from his wife. Small town syndrome is what I call it. There’s not a lot that goes on around here that the whole town doesn’t know about.

  “He’s good. He had his surgery about a month ago, so he’s decided to come back and do his physical therapy here. I’m so glad he’s coming home; it’ll be easier for me to take care of him and make sure he’s resting that leg of his if he’s nearby.”

  I smile at her obvious excitement and continue working on my cake.

  ***

  Twelve hours later and I’m finally leaving work. My lower back feels tight from either standing up or hunching over all day and the only thing I want to do right now is go to bed and sleep it off. I really do love my job, but days like this wear me out. Sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, I flip the visor down and look at the picture I have taped there as a reminder. It’s a picture of me at my high school graduation, where I was 105 pounds heavier. The last thing I want to do on a day like today is go to the gym, but that picture is there to remind me that I never want to be that girl again.

  I wasn’t always a heavy girl. One day, when I was looking back at pictures, I noticed that I didn’t start putting on the weight until I was about 10 years old. That was the year my mom died. I think food was sort of a comfort for me, and I wound up eating according to my emotions. Whenever I was depressed, angry, lonely, or even happy, food was always there for me, especially since my dad checked out on me when she passed away. I don’t blame my dad or hold a grudge against him. He was trying to find his way through all of it too. Suddenly, he was a widower and a single dad to a little girl, and I think he was a bit overwhelmed. In dealing with his grief, a lot of the attention I needed from him at the time was forgotten. Once my dad got over his grief—well, I wouldn’t say got over since he’s never really moved on from my mom—things got a lot better. But at that point, I’d already developed a relationship with food and relied on it as an outlet for my feelings.

  Shaking myself from my thoughts, I start the car and make my way to the gym. Time to get my sweat on.

  The smell of bacon rouses me from my sleep, putting a smile on my face. Nothing like a good home cooked breakfast to get your day going. And, yes, I am living with my parents at the moment. I know, pathetic. Things went from bad to worse so quickly, my head was spinning and my mother insisted I move home so she could take care of me while my knee heals. She’s been fussing over me like a mother hen, and even though I pretend
to be annoyed by it all, I kinda like it. That might make me a momma’s boy, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had this kind of treatment and I’m going to soak it up before I throw myself back into reality.

  Everything has been a whirlwind since I made the decision to retire. After talking to my agent that night on the phone, he thought it was best to put together a press conference to make the big announcement. I seriously thought I was going to puke my fucking guts up all over the microphone as I told the world that I wouldn’t be able to play anymore. Rumors had been floating around, but no one was confirming anything, so when I finally uttered the most dreaded words in every athlete’s life, the room went up in a fury of shouted questions and lights flashing as photographers took my picture.

  The next day I was back at the hospital having what I hope to be the last surgery ever on my knee. That sucked just about as bad as it did the last time. The doctor said something about scar tissue building up, making the surgery and recovery more difficult. All I know is it sucked ass.

  To add more suckage on top of everything else, I got served divorce papers. Yep, Valerie didn’t want to stick it out. I know we fought and she told me she wanted a divorce, but I seriously thought she was just panicking a little and would come to her senses once the fog cleared from that brain of hers. Nope, no such luck there. I was a little shocked when I opened the envelope that contained the documents showing that she had filed. We’ve been together since we were 16 years old, but I guess that doesn’t mean shit when you become a spoiled bitch who’s only in it for the money. I wish I could say that looking back I should have seen the signs that she had turned into this person, but I didn’t. I know she liked to shop and buy expensive things, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to take care of her and provide her with nice shit. I felt it was the least I could do after what she’s sacrificed so that I could follow my career. Was that a sign that she was just like any other gold digger? Maybe, but to me, we had a solid marriage built on love, trust, friendship, and loyalty. I guess on her end it was built on money. And once that ran out, so did she. I’m not gonna lie, it fucking stings.

  So here I sit, in the bedroom I grew up in, six weeks post-op, trying to decide what the hell I want to do with my life. I have a little back-up plan that I never in my dreams thought I’d need to use, but I’ll have to talk it over with my dad and see what he thinks about my idea.

  As I walk down the hall toward the kitchen, I hear my parents talking to each other. When I notice they’re talking about me, I stop at the end of the hall and listen.

  “I don’t know what to do for him,” my mom says. “He sits around all day in this, this…funk. He hardly leaves the house other than to go to physical therapy. He needs to get out more.” She starts stirring something she has on the stove.

  “Cut him some slack, honey,” my dad tells her as he walks up behind her and starts rubbing her shoulders. “He’s got a lot going on. If he wants to lay around a little while he deals with everything, I think the kid is entitled.”

  She lets out a loud sigh. “I know, I’m just worried about him and how he’s handling everything. I could kill Valerie right now.” At the sound of my soon-to-be ex-wife’s name, my attention perks up even more. “She should be the one taking care of him, standing by his side. I just can’t believe what a wretched person she turned out to be. I just want to wring her neck for hurting my baby.” At that, I hear her sniffling and I can’t take anymore.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” I walk into the kitchen to make my presence known. I’m trying my best for casual, but I know my mom can read me like no other. She knows I’m hurting and there’s really no way of hiding it from her.

  She wipes at her face before turning around and facing me. “I know you say you are, Landon, but I’m your mother and I know better. You’ve been home for three weeks and have hardly left the house. That’s just not healthy.” She begins to scoop eggs and bacon onto plates for the three of us.

  “Am I upset? Yeah, I am, but I’m dealing with it. If that’s Valerie’s true colors, then I’m glad she left me. Can you imagine if we’d had kids? If anything, I dodged a bullet. I just need to get over the shock of it, that’s all. I promise I’m not in there listening to emo music and thinking about cutting my wrists, okay?” I give her a small smile to reassure her that I am going to be alright.

  “Okay.” She has a tight smile on her face and her eyebrows furrow a little before asking, “But what’s emo?” I start laughing, and just like that, my mood is instantly lighter. I love being home.

  ***

  After I get home from the physical therapist’s office, I take a shower. Once I’m dried off and dressed, I head to the living room to watch some SportsCenter. As soon as I turn it on, my face instantly forms a scowl. My buddy Brandon is sitting behind a microphone giving a statement of some kind. The ticker on the bottom of the screen says,

  Brandon Smith finally speaks up about becoming the starting QB

  That son of a bitch.

  “I just want to say thanks to all those who supported me through the years,” he begins. “I always knew I’d get to this point, and I appreciate the faith others put in me. I’m real honored to be able to lead this team to victory and I will continue to do so by being a leader to the team as well as the outstanding player I know I’m capable of being. It’s a tough break for Landon, but I know I can be better than he was. I can get us to that Super Bowl. And I just want to say this to Landon; I hope you feel better soon and enjoy retirement.” He flashes a cocky grin and it takes all my inner strength not to limp to the TV and punch it. He’s such a cocky, narcissistic asshat and if I was still on the team I’d teach him a lesson in humility real fucking quick.

  Something about the look on his face just doesn’t sit right with me. He was cocky like always, but it was almost like he knew something too. Either that or he’s just happy that I’m out and he’s in. Whatever the reason for that stupid-ass smile, he’s a real shithead. Who gets excited when a teammate is hurt? That fucker, that’s who.

  I’m gonna need to blow off some steam tonight, so I text an old buddy of mine from way back in the day. He ran into me at the gas station my first week back while I was filling up my car on my way to physical therapy. We exchanged numbers and said we’d get a few beers one night to catch up. Looks like I’ll be taking him up on that offer tonight.

  Me: Hey it’s Landon wanna grab some beer 2night?

  A few minutes later my phone dings.

  Elliot: Sounds good. What time so I can tell the Mrs?

  Me: How’s 8?

  Elliot: Works for me. Where at?

  Me: There’s only 1 option in this small ass town, see you at Dale’s

  Elliot: See you then.

  ***

  I walk into Dale’s and look around for Elliot. I spot him sitting in one of the booths against the wall, close to the bar. Dale’s is a fairly small establishment that’s been around since I can remember. The lack of competition in this town is probably what keeps it open. If you want a beer, you come here or go to the next town over, so this is convenient. The place could definitely use a face lift, or even a decent cleaning would help. It’s kinda dingy in here with a stained tile floor, water stains in the ceiling, and some of the booths with tears in them. But that’s just Dale’s.

  I shake hands with Elliot before taking a seat.

  “How’s it going, man? What’s it been? Seven years or something like that?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a while.” He holds up his hand for the waitress, who promptly comes over and takes our orders.

  “Well, tell me what the hell you’ve been doing with your life over these years. I thought for sure you would’ve gotten out of here as soon as we graduated. What kept you here?” I nod my thanks to the waitress as she sets our beers down.

  “Kelsey,” he states before taking a gulp of his beer.

  “Oh, did she not want to move or something?”

  “No, she wanted to, it just wasn’t exactly going to happ
en since we found out she was pregnant at the end of our senior year. We just never told anyone until after we graduated. By then, she was too far along to hide it anymore.”

  My eyes go wide for a moment. I had no idea he had a kid, let alone one right out of high school. “Damn, I didn’t know you had a kid. So you decided to stay here close to family, is that it?”

  “Yeah. We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Her parents freaked and threatened to castrate me. It was bad. So my parents offered to let us move in and have the baby there until we got our shit together. Everything is good now, but it was real tough in the beginning.” He’s looking down at his beer like he’s lost in thought thinking back on those times. I can’t imagine taking care of a kid at 18. My biggest worry at that time was football.

  I’m about to say something to change the subject to something less serious when out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of dark auburn hair. I look over and it’s almost like a flame. This woman’s back is to me, so I can’t see her face, but she’s standing directly under a light, making her already striking hair illuminate the area around her in a warm hue. It’s long, a little past her mid back, with a slight curl to it. She finally turns in my direction and I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s with a group of people, but I don’t really see anyone else as I take her in from head to toe. She has a cute, button nose, perfect white teeth that she keeps flashing through her full, glossy lips that she spreads out into a smile. I can’t tell what color her eyes are from here, but they’re nice and big, standing out on her face, making her look almost exotic. She’s not dressed provocatively, quite the opposite actually. She’s wearing jeans and a simple tank top that shows off absolutely no cleavage, but with the way her jeans skim over her hips and her tank top floats over her chest and slim waist, I know she’s got to have a killer body hidden underneath all that. The fact that she’s not showing all her goods makes her just that more appealing to me.