The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel

by Jenshak, Rebecca

  I bite down on my tongue to keep from voicing my excitement that he’s talking in future terms. Okay, it’s not exactly a lifelong commitment, but the fact he thinks we’ll still be hanging out next week is good enough for me. Baby steps.

  I smile and turn to leave, feeling the best I have in so long. It strikes me how easy this feels. There really is something to the Joel Moreno life, I guess.

  Joel clears his throat behind me, and I swivel my head to find him smirking with his hand held out.

  “Oh fine,” I say and hand him his keys. “Come on Christian.”

  I’m still floating around wondering when life got so damn good when Joel walks into my apartment. Christian runs to him and hugs his legs like it’s all just part of our routine before running back to his pizza.

  Trying not to over think it, I do the same. Catching me but laughing in surprise as I jump into his arms, Joel lifts me like I weigh nothing. “I could get used to this sort of welcome.”

  “I ship us,” I blurt out.

  I feel his arms tense as he places me on the ground.

  I scramble, trying to put what I feel into the right words. “I just mean that spending time with you, and spending time the three of us – you, me, and Christian – I like it and I want to keep doing it. I’m totally for whatever this is. I admit I was not expecting to feel this way but being with you makes me happy. It makes Christian happy. I know it’s all happened sort of fast and we haven’t talked about, well anything really, but I think I’m falling in lo—”

  “Stop.”

  I meet his gaze. In my rambling, I’d avoided eye contact in order to get it all out, but now I’m thinking I should have looked up sooner. I see the panic and remorse in those deep brown eyes.

  I shake my head, feeling foolish. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “Mom put your plate next to mine,” Christian yells out from the dining room, interrupting my humiliation.

  Joel looks torn between bolting and joining Christian. I turn and move to the kitchen trying to regain some semblance of composure. Placing a hand to my trembling lips, I close my eyes and will the tears not to fall.

  I can hear Joel move across the apartment and take a seat next to Christian, but I physically cannot make myself join them. I can’t sit across from him and pretend like he didn’t just crush the heart I offered on a silver platter. Or almost offered. I’m not sure if it’s more or less humiliating that I didn’t actually say the words. What sort of guy stops a girl from telling him that she’s falling in love with him?

  I always knew what this was. I knew who he was, but one date turned into another and another, and somewhere along the way my heart stopped getting the memo that this was casual. Being with Joel is easy – too easy. That alone should have had me on guard. My life isn’t easy, and I’ve prided myself on making the most in spite of that.

  I stay in the kitchen, cleaning dishes until I can see my reflection, wiping down counters, scrubbing at dirty cabinet doors – basically anything that keeps me busy.

  “All done?” I hear Joel ask Christian.

  He comes into the kitchen carrying his and Christian’s plates, washes and rinses them, before turning to me. Christian’s already moved on to the next thing, pushing cars around the track set up in the living room.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. No attempt to smooth things over. No false promises. Just his apologies for not loving me back.

  “No, I’m sorry. I got swept up in everything. You make me happy, my son happy. The way you show up for us, it’s, well, it’s hard not to fall for you.”

  “I think you and Christian are great and I’d love to spend more time with you, but love and relationships are just… they’re just not something I do. You two deserve so much more than I can give you. Guess I was being selfish by forcing myself into your life when I can’t be what you need. It’s just…” He runs a hand through his hair and mumbles to the ground. “No estoy listo para rendirme.”

  A tear slips out and I swipe at it furiously.

  He places a finger at my chin and brings his lips to mine in the softest kiss that says the goodbye I know is coming. “Don’t cry for me, Kitty.” He steps back, eyes tormented but jaw set. “I should go.”

  I nod, not trusting my voice. Further crushing my heart, he goes to Christian, squats down and speaks so I can’t hear him. Christian smiles and then bumps Joel’s fists with his own. My son is completely oblivious that this man is walking out of our lives for good and I try to be happy about that. Better now than in six months or a year when Christian is more attached.

  I follow Joel to the door. He wraps me into a hug, pressing our bodies together and threading a hand through my hair. I want to stay just like this forever. Turn back time and keep my feelings stuffed down inside where they belong.

  “Lo siento. Lo siento mucho.”

  35

  Joel

  July, One Month Before College

  Baby Minka Suzanne is born the last week of July. She is everything. So soft and adorable and, I inhale the top of her head and my heart feels so full, absolutely perfect. Life is perfect.

  College starts next month. I got a full ride to play basketball at Valley University. Polly is taking a semester off and then she wants to go to beauty school so she can do make up for a living. She’s good at that. Even two days after having Minka, she looks flawless.

  “You sure you don’t want to just move in with me? There’s an empty bedroom right next to mine, we can set up her nursery there. Plus, we’ll have more help.”

  Polly finishes packing up her bag, carefully folding the tiny little pink outfits. “No, I don’t think so. That would be too weird – us living with your parents. What about if we get a place just the two of us?”

  “I can’t afford that. My basketball scholarship states that I can’t work. And, I’d rather spend my free time hanging with my best girls,” I coo into sweet Minka’s chubby cheeks and then place her in the car carrier.

  “Hey, did you get that baby swing I sent you the link for?”

  “Nah, we already got a swing.”

  Her face falls. “This one was so much better. It glides and swings. Plus, you can upload your own music to it and the seat doubles as a sleeper. We have to have it.”

  “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” This baby is already the most spoiled human in Valley.

  I reach for the hospital forms, my eyes snagging on the paper lying on top. “Don’t we need to fill this out before we leave?”

  “I did.” She swipes it from my hands. “That’s a copy.”

  “You didn’t fill in the father section.”

  “Of course, I did.” She shoves the papers inside the bag, zips it, and hands it to me. “Ready to go?”

  Her too cheerful voice makes every nerve in my body stand at alert. “Are you not going to list me as her dad? I know we’re not married, and I’m cool with Minka having your last name until then, but I’m her father.”

  The fear in Polly’s eyes knocks the wind out of me. “I am her father, right?”

  “I –” Her voice cracks.

  I glance down at my beautiful daughter, fair skin, dark blue eyes with flecks of gold that I’m certain are going to turn green. She’ll be a beautiful mini version of her mother, but she’s mine. I feel it in my bones.

  “Polly?” Throat thick. “She is mine, right?” It sounds ridiculous even to my own ears.

  “I don’t know for sure.”

  My knees give, and I brace myself on the wall behind me.

  I have no idea how much time goes by while I stand and wait for the bombshell to finish exploding in my chest.

  “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so, so sorry.” Polly’s voice breaks the silence. Tears stream down her face leaving a trail of black from her makeup. “It was just one time.”

  “You slept with someone else while we were together?”

  I process the words as I say them. How did I not see this coming? Polly and I have been careful every time we’
ve had sex. I always use protection, but, fuck, her cheating on me was the last thing I thought when she got pregnant.

  How could she be so deceiving, and I never even considered that a possibility? Were there no signs or did I just ignore them? Blinded by love. Fucking love.

  She steps forward and reaches for my hand. “I love you.”

  I flinch at both the words and her touch. “You don’t love me.” I pull away. She inhales sharply, but I’m too pissed to care that I might be upsetting the woman that may or may not have just had my baby. I’ll add that to my list of regrets later. “You couldn’t possibly love me and keep this from me for nine months. What if –.” I can’t force myself to say the words. What if she isn’t mine?

  This, whatever it is Polly feels for me, definitely isn’t love. Or if it is, it isn’t enough for me.

  “It was only one time,” she repeats like that matters. One time that she screwed somebody else while claiming to love me. I’m not into gambling, but if I were, I’d say the odds aren’t good that she’s telling the truth. She might as well have boned the whole town, though, because I’m done. Not with Minka, but with Polly. Didn’t plan on raising a kid on my own, but there’s no chance I can raise one with Polly. I can’t even look at her.

  “You and I can still be together,” she insists and pushes against me. “It was a guy my sister knows from college. I had too much to drink at my birthday party and one thing led to another. It meant nothing. Even if he’s the father, it’s you I want to be with. Minka can be ours regardless.”

  Grind my teeth in frustration and ball my hands into fists because I straight up want to strangle this girl with every new detail she offers.

  How could I be so stupid? How could she be so conniving? “No. You fucking destroyed whatever love I had for you when you spread your legs for someone else.”

  Minka’s mine. She has to be.

  She gasps at my harsh words. I regret them immediately, but I don’t apologize. I’ve never slut-shamed anyone in my life, but I’m seeing red and I need to hurt her as much as she hurt me. I can feel my heart harden and I walk away before I say anything else I might regret. If this is love, fuck it. Love is an exchange of power. And the person who loves the most – they trade all their power. And for what?

  Never again. I’ll take control of my life over love any day.

  Love is bullshit.

  36

  Joel

  “Moreno, what the hell is going on with you today?”

  I shake my head and wipe the sweat from my brow.

  Coach’s mouth sets in a firm line and he points to the sideline. “Take a seat. Johnson, you’re up.”

  Wes looks like he might speak as I pass him standing at the top of the key with his fucking dry erase clipboard in hand, but I head him off. “Save it.”

  I’m angry. No, fuck it, I’m enraged. At myself. At life. At every goddamn thing.

  Katrina loves me or is falling in love with me. I’m pretty sure those are synonymous. How did I not see this coming? It’s the exact reason I stopped letting girls in beyond my bed. From the day Polly shattered my belief in love and trust, I’d changed. I made sure my intentions were clear – just sex, just fun, leave your emotions at the door. It had been easier than I thought until I’d walked into that damn café.

  I’d been fooling myself into thinking I could dance around the lines with her and Christian, but the second the words left her mouth I didn’t feel happy – I felt fucking panicked. If I gave her my love and she treated it as recklessly as Polly had, it would destroy me. It would change me beyond repair.

  Fuck.

  Tossing the ball to Johnson, I take another step toward the bench and still. Frozen in place as the weight of the realization hits me.

  Polly wasn’t my Vesper. Katrina is. Katrina’s my Vesper.

  My chest is already tight at the thought of not seeing her or Christian. That kid has gotten under my skin as much as she has. What if she changed her mind in a month or a year? No, not what – when. Just like before I’d have no control – they’d be gone, and I’d be wrecked. Losing Polly changed me, but if I give my heart to Katrina, it will fucking ruin me when she eventually walks away.

  Knowing that I can’t be what they need, that they’re better off without me, fucking stings. Knowing I’m not willing to risk trying makes me feel like a coward.

  Hang my head and drape a towel over me, shrouding myself in darkness. My own personal sweaty hell.

  Someone approaches, and I glance at the floor in front of me, spotting Coach’s old school Jordan’s. Man’s got good taste in shoes, I’ll give him that.

  “Get out of here. Go to class, go home, I don’t care what you do, but get your head on.”

  “I’m fine,” I grit out, annoyed at being sent home like a child.

  “It wasn’t a question, son. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow morning. We’ve got seven days until the tournament and I need you to work your shit out.”

  With a sigh, I stand and start toward the locker room.

  “And Moreno,” Coach calls and I pause. “Tomorrow I expect your shit to be straight or you won’t leave here until it is.”

  * * *

  Thursday’s come to be my favorite day of the week. A communications class that I actually like, followed by economics where I usually spend the fifty minutes of class time working out what I’ll say to Kitty. Today I just stare straight ahead totally numb until class is dismissed. I’m at the door of University Hall before I realize my body has gone on autopilot.

  I stand out front unable to go in but incapable of leaving without a glimpse. A group of people walk in, the last one holding the door out to me and I step through.

  Holding my breath, I scan the café counter, exhaling when it’s not Kitty I see but some dude. I get in line and wait, keeping my eyes peeled the whole time. Maybe she got held up and is running late. Fuck, I don’t know. She’s always just here.

  “Can I help you?” dude that’s not Katrina asks when it’s my turn.

  “Looking for Katrina.”

  “She’s not here.”

  Captain Obvious.

  “This is her shift.” I hold my ground. It’d be easier if I just outright asked, but I don’t.

  “She called out sick. Coffee?”

  Shake my head and turn away.

  It takes ten minutes to get to her apartment from campus.

  I make it in six.

  “Kitty, open up.” I knock on the door and am met with silence. Pace, knock some more, pull out my phone. I’m just about to call her when the door cracks open.

  “Joel? What are you doing here?”

  Instead of answering I push the door wide and step in. I’m well aware that I may not be welcome, but I need to explain or apologize, or fuuuuck, I dunno, something.

  I open my mouth to speak, and then take in her appearance. Messy hair, dark circles under her eyes. “You’re sick?”

  “No, it’s Christian. He was up all night.”

  Which means she was up all night. The thought, I should have been here, slams through me, but that’s not right either. Still, I hate that she was by herself. She shouldn’t have to do it alone.

  I glance over to the couch where Christian lays, blanket pulled up around him, trashcan next to him.

  “How is he?”

  The look she gives me tells me I have no right to ask, but she answers anyway. “He’s got a fever and can’t hold anything down.”

  His little head pops up an inch and the smallest smile tips his tiny lips.

  “Hey, little man.” I cross to him, taking a seat at the end of the couch. “Heard you weren’t feeling well.”

  “My tummy hurts,” he admits. “Are you gonna stay and watch Bolt with me?”

  “We don’t want Joel to get sick, buddy,” she says and Christian’s face falls.

  It would be bad if I get sick this close to the tournament, but it’s the farthest thing from my mind.

  “I’ve had my flu
shot. Plus, I never get sick.”

  That much is true. Can’t remember the last time I had the flu. Fingers crossed.

  “Your dad should be here in a little bit,” she says. I’m sure it’s meant to scare me off, but I don’t budge.

  “Cool. I’ll just stay until he gets here.”

  I glance back at Katrina, can’t read the expression on her face, but she shrugs a shoulder giving me permission that I know is purely for Christian’s benefit.

  Little man crawls over to me, rests his head on my lap, and my heart hammers in my chest possessively. We watch the movie in silence. Katrina stays away, except to check Christian’s temperature and instruct him to drink more water.

  She checks her phone no less than twenty times and I have to wonder if Victor’s blowing her off.

  “He’s out,” I whisper quietly when Christian finally falls asleep.

  “Oh good.” They’re the first words that have left her mouth without attitude. She stands in front of me angling like she wants to reach out for him but equally wants to refrain from touching me.

  “You want him in his bed?”

  “Yeah, maybe he’ll sleep for a few hours. He was up all night,” she says for the second time.

  I stand with him, careful not to wake him, and take him to his room, place him on the bed, push back his hair from his forehead that’s still warm to the touch. I feel Katrina watching me, but I don’t let her rush me. I pull the comforter up to cover him and sing quietly the song my mother sang to me at night.

  “Buenas noches, Hasta mañana, que Juan Pestañas ya va a llegar. El viejito de los sueños bonitos cuentos te contará. Buenas noches, Hasta mañana, que Juan Pestañas ya va a venir. ¡Ponte tu pijama y métete a la cama¡, porque ya es la hora de dormir.”

  I stare at him a moment longer before I force myself up.

  Katrina is sitting on the couch, legs crossed under her, staring hard at me, phone in hand.