by J Santiago
“Nah. But she still works out. It keeps her leg from stiffening up.”
“Of course.”
“We never talk about you.”
The way Steele had said it sounded defensive, and Tank looked up from the piece of pizza in his hands and across the table to Steele.
At six foot five, Steele had been an incredible target as a receiver. His arms were covered in tattoos that you really couldn’t make out because of his skin. Tank often teased him about it. He’d had twists in his hair as a player but sheared them off when he became a graduate assistant. He’d claimed he needed legitimacy. Tank had teased him about that, too.
Now, as he stared at Steele, Tank wondered about Steele’s real feelings for Amber. Tank got that they were friends, but he suddenly knew there was more to it than that. His mind jumped, conjuring a picture of an altar with Steele and Amber standing on either side and Tank an attentive best man. He shook his head, pushing the image aside.
“Bro, it’s cool. We were together for a few weeks a long time ago. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Tank issued his statement with confidence.
Relieved, Steele said, “I know. I felt bad for never saying anything. But we started hangin’ soon after the wedding, and with the scene there, I just thought it would be better if I kept it to myself.”
Tank forced a laugh. “Yeah, that was not one of my finer moments.”
Steele shrugged. “Hers either.”
Tank stopped himself from demanding Steele clarify the comment. He trusted Steele. Enough said.
“So, how you feeling about seeing her tonight?”
Tank narrowed his eyes, caught off guard by the question. “How about, since you and she don’t talk about me, you and I don’t talk about her?”
Steele’s quick smile flashed white on his face. “You telling me to mind my own business?” Then, he laughed.
“Nah. I’m saying, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Uh-huh,” Steele grunted, mocking Tank with his knowing smile. “Whatever you say, bro.”
They finished eating, an uneasy silence between them.
“Let’s get out of here.” Tank dropped some cash in the folder with the bill and then led the way to the exit.
As they started their walk back to his house, he once again found himself thinking about the evening ahead and the reappearance of Amber in his life.
Aren’t friends supposed to be split up in a divorce? How come all of my friends are her friends? And why am I suddenly so curious about her?
The euphoric numbness from the pool disappeared.
Once they returned to the house, they retreated to their rooms to shower again and get ready.
Tank couldn’t predict what the night would bring other than a reunion he hadn’t ever wished for. And, while he could lament about the reality of having to deal with her tonight, he needed to understand that it didn’t have to be anything.
It had taken him all day to get there—to the one truth that would sustain him through the night. She was history. And, once he caught up with her in the present, he could put her and the memories of her back in the past—where they belonged.
Amber opened the trunk of the Audi Q7 her dad had purchased for her two years ago and grabbed her team-issued rolling suitcase and valet. She hurried to the front door of her father’s house and didn’t hesitate to sling it open, the reverberation of it hitting the wall, announcing her arrival.
Just as she’d envisioned, her two-year-old twin half-siblings came barreling down the hallway toward her. Dropping her stuff where she stood, she met them partway and scooped their wiggly little bodies up into her arms. They squealed their delight as she rained kisses all over their faces.
“Could they be any more excited to see you?” Her father, Mike Franco asked from his lean against the wall.
“Well, I am the fun big sister,” she reminded him between Alexis’s and Andy’s laughter.
“I’m not completely sure, but I think they’ve been asking for you all day. I’m guessing ’Ber is you.” He winked at her before waving her to follow him to the kitchen. “I thought Steele was driving over with you?”
She reluctantly released the twins, dropping a kiss on top of each of their heads. As soon as she set them down, Franco pulled her into a quick hug. The children giggled before toddling off to get into something while out of the watchful eye of their father.
“He drove separately. He’ll meet us tonight at the party.” She sat down at the kitchen bar and propped her head on her hands. “I think he’s missing the object of his bromance.”
“Ah, I guess this is the first time they’ve seen each other since their seasons ended.”
“Yeah. Before Steele heads back out on the recruiting trail, he needs his boy time.”
Amber’s unlikely friendship with Lamarcus Steele tended to sustain her because the rest of her friends and family lived hours away.
When she’d arrived on campus three years ago, Steele had been a senior on the team. She’d only known him as a rumored best friend of Tank Howard and a name on the roster of student-athletes she was responsible for taking care of and monitoring. Then, during the third game of that season, Steele suffered a career-ending injury. There were stories of Tank visiting Steele in the hospital and having his team doctors confer with Steele’s team doctors. No one ever substantiated the stories, and Amber never asked.
It was during their mutual rehab sessions with heat or stim when they began to become friends. At first, because Steele was still a student-athlete, it mostly consisted of lamenting over coming back from an injury—what hurt, what didn’t. But, when he became a graduate assistant, chasing a new dream, the friendship between them blossomed. Even after spending incredible amounts of time together and discussing any number of topics, it took six months before either of them acknowledged their respective relationships with Tank Howard.
“I imagine, they both need it,” Franco added quietly.
Amber shrugged with true indifference. Steele and Tank’s friendship didn’t bother her. It was a separate entity, much like the relationship between Franco and Tank. If she wanted to avoid the concentric circles of her life and his, she’d have to move to Alaska and cut everyone off. As it was, she had been able to avoid seeing him for the last two years.
Although she’d evaded discussing the engagement party with everyone—Franco, Molly, Steele, and even Keira—she could admit she was nervous. Considering what had happened the last time they were together, she had a right to feel anxious.
What she didn’t need was the fiery expectancy that had accompanied her on her ride. She’d chalked it up to her anticipation of seeing the twins.
But, now, in her father’s whitewashed kitchen with the afternoon sun streaming in, she could feel the latent enthusiasm sprouting, growing inside her. She wanted to blame it on her Keira and Tilly’s engagement and being with her family—anything other than the man who was hosting the party.
But, in the aftermath of her horrible, disfiguring car accident, she’d learned to be honest—at least with herself. And she wanted to see Tank. She wanted to talk to him and laugh with him. She wanted to trade anecdotes.
The thought of catching up with him scared her far more than the desire to touch him.
“How are you feeling about tonight?” Franco asked without hedging.
Grinning, she looked up at him. “I’m excited to see everyone.”
“Vague, as usual.” Franco leaned back on the counter, settling in.
Amber took him in. “You look good. Those pesky circles under your eyes seem to have disappeared.” She loved teasing him about his second go-around as a parent.
“Well, it took only about fifteen months for the As to actually sleep through the night. Those undisturbed hours of shut-eye have done wonders for both of us.”
As if they’d suspected the conversation had veered in their direction, Alexis and Andy came running back into the kitchen. Franco grabbed Alexis while Amber j
umped down from the stool to get Andy.
“Hey, sweetness,” she murmured into the rolls on his neck.
He giggled.
“Well, that’s good. How’s Molly doing?” Amber asked Franco.
Franco shoved his free hand into his thick black hair—a sign Amber recognized as stress.
“I think she’s discovering how difficult it is to have a high-powered career in college athletics while also being a parent. And I’m not much help most of the year.”
A niggling sense of worry pricked at Amber. “Is everything okay?”
A nervous chuckle escaped Franco’s mouth, ratcheting up her unease. Alexis dropped her head to Franco’s shoulder, snuggling in.
He placed a tender kiss on her forehead before looking back up to Amber. “You used to do the same thing—settle in on my hip, silently begging to stay in my arms.” He stroked his daughter’s light-brown locks. “It feels like a lifetime ago when I was parenting you.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “You still parent me. Jeez, wasn’t it you who wanted Steele to drive with me because you didn’t want your twenty-six-year-old daughter driving three hours by herself?” she teased.
“Maybe,” he agreed.
Neither one of them acknowledged how long it had been since Amber went to her father, seeking affection. Five years after the accident, they still managed to avoid the subject.
Up until Amber’s debacle with Rowdy Daniels, Franco and Amber had had a very close relationship, their mutual love of football being one of many things they shared. In addition to the terrible scarring on her face and neck, the accident that had killed Rowdy almost destroyed her relationship with her father.
“Seriously, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but are you good with going to Tank’s house tonight?”
“I promise you, I am as okay as I can be.”
Just because Amber’s and Tank’s parting words to each other had been mean and angry, the two years since their harrowing interaction had been good to both of them, and they could be adults for the sake of their friends.
“What’s the plan for tonight?”
Franco glanced up at the clock. “Molly should be home soon. Our babysitter will be here around six o’clock. We can leave here around seven.”
“About that, I think I am going to drive separately.”
Andy started to wiggle in her arms, so she put him down on the floor and watched with amusement as he walked over and tugged on his sister’s leg.
“Down!” he ordered.
Both Alexis and Franco seemed reluctant to let go of each other, but even at two, Alexis was powerless to say no to her demanding twin. Franco bent down and kissed his son before releasing his daughter.
Then, he looked over at Amber. “Why do you want to go by yourself?”
She glanced around the kitchen, trying to remember where she left her bags. Recalling the scene at the front door, she walked back through the hallway where her stuff lay in a heap in the foyer. Picking up her suitcase, she set it upright before retrieving her garment bag and hanging it on the coat rack by the entrance. Locating her purse, she headed back to where Franco was waiting for her.
She dropped the purse on the counter and rifled through it until she found the envelope. She pulled it out and presented it to her dad. “Take your wife out to dinner, and we’ll meet at the party.”
He opened it up and glanced down at the gift card inside. “Ruth’s Chris? I guess Whitey is paying you well,” he teased.
“You know he is.”
“I can afford to take my wife out to dinner.” His declaration vibrated with annoyance.
“I know you can. But I figured you might not have thought to do it. So, that one’s for tonight, and this one”—she handed him a second envelope—“is for tomorrow night when I babysit.”
He rolled his eyes, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“She probably won’t want to be away from the twins both nights.”
“Convince her,” Amber challenged.
He studied her, and Amber grew uncomfortable under his steady gaze. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or even what he saw when he looked at her. She hoped he felt her strength and resilience. She valued his opinion.
Did he see her as she was now, five years removed from the horror of her life in Oxford? Did the scar still crush him? Did he watch her walk and feel sorry for her? She didn’t think he did anymore, but she could never really be sure.
Although she resented his worry about tonight, she could understand it. The last time she’d seen Tank at Franco’s wedding, Franco had had to hold her as she heaved through sobs in the antechamber reserved for the wedding party.
Congratulations on finally finding a woman you love. Excuse me while I have a breakdown about the guy I used to love.
She almost groaned at the memory. Maybe she owed Franco.
“I’ve tried to figure out what I’m going to feel when I see him, but I keep coming up empty. I really can’t predict it. It’s been so long, and we’ve both had more experiences apart than we ever had together. It’s stupid really. I’m not the first girl who’s had her heart broken.” She laughed normally because it seemed funny to her all of a sudden. “We were together for a couple of months and have not been together for three years. He’s in a relationship. We live in different cities. Doesn’t it seem kind of ridiculous to even think I wouldn’t be okay tonight?”
The door from the garage opened suddenly, and Molly hurried into the kitchen. She smiled wide when she saw Amber and then hurried forward to drop her keys, purse, and messenger bag on the counter. She pulled Amber into a warm hug. “I hadn’t heard from either of you, so I wasn’t sure if you’d made it.”
Amber and Molly stepped back from their embrace.
“You look great. Are you excited to see Keira?” Molly asked.
Amber laughed at the rapid-fire speech. “Did having kids make you talk faster?”
They spoke on the phone all the time and instant-messaged while at work. Since they both worked in college athletics, they had plenty to talk about, and Amber often relied on Molly for answering compliance questions.
Molly laughed at her question. “Maybe. Although I think I am so happy to go out tonight that my brain is working at warp speed.”
Amber laughed with her. “Yes, I am excited to see Keira, and you are going out the next two nights, so don’t fret.”
Molly looked confused but quickly shook it off and made her way over to Franco. “Hey, babe,” she murmured as she sank into her husband’s space.
His arms immediately surrounded her, and they seemed to lose themselves in the hug. Both of their eyes closed as they took comfort in the embrace. Franco dropped his head and gave her an open-mouthed kiss that would have been hot if it hadn’t been Amber’s father displaying his passion for his wife.
Any concern Amber experienced talking to her father earlier dissipated instantly while she stood on the outskirts of their kiss. Being with the two of them, in their orbit, always left Amber a bit raw. She basked in their happiness, their obvious love and comfort with one another. Inevitably though, when she left them, the vacancies in her life would become gaping holes of regret and longing.
Now, with them immersed in a hug, silently communicating in a way Amber envied, she could only think of the last words Tank had tossed at her when she walked away from him at the wedding.
“I’m truly sorry,” he said, the truth of his statement reflected in his eyes. “I mean, I hate what I did, but I’m more sorry about what’s happened to you because of it. I thought you were hard when I first met you, but now, you just seem bitter and a little bit pathetic.”
Her eyes widened, and the blow from his words hit her, making her flinch.
“I hope, for your sake, that you find a way to get over it.” He looked her up and down, disgust replacing his apologetic gaze. “If what happened between us today is any indication of who you are now, you’ll always be alone.”
&
nbsp; Then, he turned from her, walking back to the beautiful black woman waiting for him down the hall.
Amber flipped her hair, wrapping it around the right side of her neck, shaking off the haze of the memory. Like her protective cloak around the vulnerable skin, she longed to shield her heart from the confusing glimmers of hope and anticipation of seeing Tank.
Keira had declared the engagement party attire casual, which Amber knew was for her benefit. But, over the last three years, after playing adult dress-up, she’d developed some fashion sense and her own style. Seared into her memory was the image of the last woman she’d seen with Tank, and tonight called for her A game. Her white shirt, stretch jeans, and mid-calf boots were accentuated with a brown leather blazer, thick belt, a stack of gold and copper bangles, and a thin infinity scarf. A knight with battle armor, she moved, unfettered by self-consciousness about the web of scarring on her face and neck.
Double-checking the address, she walked slowly toward the door while studying the surrounding area. Ranch-style houses from the sixties, which should have made the units appear out of place, flanked the modest but modern-looking town houses. The casual observer could note the change in the neighborhood. The hipster vibe reigned with the coffeehouse, swank but small restaurants, and requisite bars right around the corner. Amber immediately liked the area and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find one of the NFL’s leading men immersed in it.
Quintessential Tank. Threads of humility tangled up with all his ego.
Being here, seeing where he lived, loving where he lived, ramped up her anticipation. She stopped just short of knocking on the door, suddenly struck by the difference in her. She was about to enter Tank’s house, and rather than the familiar rage and resentment, she felt giddy. She reached out and rang the doorbell. As she waited, she pretended like everything was under control and normal, but she was abruptly back at the wedding, her memories taking over.
The last time she’d seen Tank, the residue of anger had clung to her like oil on a mechanic’s hands. Without any incentive to clean them, she let it settle and cake, thicken and stain. When he pulled her through the halls of The Fox Theatre at her father’s wedding, she went willingly. The desire simmering between them was undeniable. But it wasn’t overwhelming passion that fueled her acquiescence; it was blinding fury, simple rage. She hated him that night, and she wanted to fuck it out.