by Lea Coll
“You don’t normally care what people think?”
“No. I do. Probably too much, but not what women think of me. I’m not explaining myself very well. I’m a football player. That’s all most people care about. They want to talk about the game last Sunday, the calls, the plays. Women want to know what kind of car I drive, want to be taken out to fancy restaurants. No one looks past that.”
Maybe it wasn’t so much a mask he put on but giving people what they expected. “Huh.”
“You didn’t think football players had feelings?”
“I worked with Reid for years. He was sensitive to what people thought of him, of anyone finding out about his speech impediment. So, I don’t think that.”
“I like you, Calliope. You’re a cool girl.”
I felt giddy like I had when I dated my first boyfriend in high school, when the possibilities were endless, and the future was an unchartered map.
“Let’s go to the harbor and walk around. We’ll go wherever looks good.”
I closed my eyes, relaxing into the seat. I couldn’t remember the last time my day wasn’t scheduled into my calendar on my phone. The idea of doing whatever we felt like, having fun, rolled through my body.
“I’m going to get you to loosen up.”
“I look forward to it.” We exchanged a smile.
The thought of letting go sounded amazing.
He parked by the harbor. Music played from the city dock. “Want to walk around first?”
“Sure.”
His hand touched my elbow; my breath caught in my throat. Then his fingers oh so slowly slid down my forearm, touching my wrist before intertwining with mine. Sighing, I touched his arm with my other hand and looked up at him. A girl could get used to this.
We sidestepped the evening crowd of tourists until he finally tugged me down a side street. “These are my favorite streets of Annapolis.”
Away from the tourists, it was quiet, almost intimate.
“Main Street’s always packed.” It was lined with tourist shops selling Navy T-shirts and hats, fudge, and ice cream.
Here, I could admire the architecture of the historical homes, the window planters, and the little details you didn’t see in a modern town, like the plaques designating certain homes as historic landmarks, or the iron door markers.
“Doesn’t Dylan live somewhere around here?”
“She does. I’m not sure which street though.” The hollowness of my chest gave way to an ache, a longing for something more. A home, the white-picket-fence, someone to share my space and day with.
I should ask Jonah what he was doing holding my hand when he had no intention of taking things between us further.
Before I could open my mouth, he opened a door to a pub, indicating I should go in first. The Irish pub and restaurant was darker inside, cool, with only a few tables filled with families, and a couple of people at the bar drinking.
“Not many people venture this far off the main drag.”
“I see that.” Did he want to be alone with me? Sitting at a small wooden table, it felt like an extension of the first night we spent time together at the bar. Except this time, both of us were sober.
We gave our orders to the waiter.
“Should we discuss the mentor program?”
He shrugged. “We don’t have to. I just wanted to get out of the office.”
I smiled. “I haven’t exactly worked in an office the last few years either. Once we’re officially open, I suppose I’ll be moving around the complex, making sure things run smoothly.”
Something passed over Jonah’s face. Was he thinking about how he should be getting ready for football camp soon but not this year?
“How’s physical therapy going?”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m working hard. I’m itching to get back out there, but they’re telling me to go slow, pace myself. They don’t want to test the knee out before it’s ready.”
“When do they think you’ll be ready?”
“Hopefully, by the end of August.” Jonah tensed. He was probably thinking about the young rookies out there working hard on the field, vying for his position.
“Just in time for the end of preseason.”
“That’s right.”
“It must be tough not being out there.”
“It’s the first training camp I’ve missed.”
“The coaches know what you’re capable of. They won’t want you rushing out there either. They want you back when you’re healthy.”
“You mean if I’m healthy.”
“The unknown must be so difficult.”
He shook his head. “It drives me crazy. I never thought I’d be in this position so early in my career.”
It was bad luck for the guys to think about it, much less voice any concerns out loud. “No one expects it. Life just happens sometimes.”
Jonah’s gaze caught on mine. “You know something about that.”
“Yeah, what happened to my parents was unexpected—devastating.” The familiar pain I felt when I talked about it filled the crevices of my heart, throbbing in its intensity.
“I can’t even imagine. I’m sorry.” Yet his eyes were filled with the pain of someone who knew heartache, loss, and utter devastation.
He mentioned his family, a dad, mom, and siblings. Had he lost a grandparent? I wanted to ask him more questions, but the waiter positioned our plates in front of us.
“Need anything else?”
Jonah lifted his glass. “More water please.”
The waiter took the glass as he left.
“Not drinking tonight?”
“I’m treating this summer like any other before training camp. Eating as healthy as I can—dinners out with beautiful women notwithstanding—so that I’m giving myself the best chance possible.”
I unwrapped my silverware, laying the napkin on my lap. “What changed since the engagement party?”
“Reid and Chase sat me down, gave me a come to Jesus talk.”
“Ah. I’m glad to hear it worked.” I took a bite of my shepherd’s pie.
“It did. That’s when they mentioned me working at the sports complex.”
“Do you like it?”
“I suspect I’ll like it more when people are coming and going.”
“An extrovert, huh?”
“I’m energized around other people. That’s why this injury feels so isolating. I can’t work out with the guys, or at least that’s how I felt. Chase and Reid reminded me to come down to the team gym to do upper body. It helped me feel a part of things again.”
“I can see that.” We fell into an easy silence while we ate, the bar filling up around us.
When I finished, I pushed my plate away from me, seeing a man approaching us from the bar. His eyes were on Jonah, a question in his eyes. “Excuse me, are you JT—Jonah Templeton?”
Jonah placed his fork on the table in front of us, moving his napkin from his lap to the table. “I am.”
“Can I get an autograph?” A boy, about nine or ten asked.
“Of course.” The friendly mask Jonah reserved for fans slipped over his expression. He signed the boy’s napkin, handing it back to him.
“Can I get a picture with you?”
When Jonah nodded, the boy’s dad handed me the phone. Jonah stood in the middle of the father and son. The smile I thought was so friendly before I knew him, now seemed forced.
I handed the phone back, sitting down while the boy flipped through the images.
“Are you going to play this year?” the father asked.
Impatience flashed across Jonah’s face before he quickly smoothed it out. “I sure hope so. I want to be out there with my team, you know?”
“I do.” He held up the signed napkin. “Thank you.”
Jonah nodded.
I wanted to acknowledge what just happened. At the same time, I didn’t want to bring it up. Jonah waved at the waiter when he walked by, asking for the check.
“Are you
okay?”
Jonah looked at me like he was surprised I’d asked.
“It has to be tough to have your meal interrupted only to be reminded of your injury.” And his tenuous position with the team and sport he loved.
“It is. I don’t mind fans. They’re the reason I’m here, but—”
“It’s okay to want to keep certain things to yourself. I watched Reid struggle with that.”
His gaze was knowing. “You knew about his speech impediment before he admitted to it, didn’t you?”
“I guessed. It wasn’t something he was able to hide from me. He avoided Rs in conversation as much as possible, but when he was tired or had been drinking, they slipped out.”
“That’s not one of those secrets you can bury down deep.”
That made me pause. Examining his face, it was carefully blank. Was he referring to himself, or was it a throwaway comment? “Those closest to him knew. I think he said Coach Ackerman suspected.”
“I don’t think I paid close enough attention to figure it out.”
“Reid was good at hiding it. I encouraged him to come out with it. I suspected fans wouldn’t care as much as he thought.”
“I don’t know. There’s always someone who has something negative to say.”
“True, but overall, the response has been encouraging. It’s brought more attention to Kids Speak.” The organization was Hadley’s nonprofit. Dylan partnered with Baltimore’s football team to bring it to the city. A team captain in a professional sport suffering from a speech impediment brought more awareness than any other charity function could.
“Not every secret is so innocuous.”
“I guess. He was just embarrassed by it. His father wasn’t exactly nice about it when he was younger.”
Something was bothering Jonah, something bigger than a fan asking about his injury. He seemed on edge. When he signed the receipt with a flourish, he asked, “Ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t grab my hand again, making me think his earlier gesture had been friendly. I breathed easier when we passed his truck in the lot, continuing to the city dock where the music still played. We sat at an open bench, his arm stretched out behind me. The wind off the water lifted my hair, cooling my cheeks.
He leaned in closer, speaking by my ear. “How often do you let go? Go clubbing with friends, grab a drink with coworkers.”
“Not often. I went a little too crazy in high school, partying and hanging out with the wrong crowd.”
Jonah shifted so he could see my face, a smile playing on his lips. “You—Calliope Goodwin—got into trouble?”
“The police brought me home once or twice,” I admitted, not proud of that time in my life.
He cocked his head. “Were you charged?”
“No.”
“No police officer wanted to tarnish your impeccable record. You look like the girl next door. They probably figured you weren’t going to grow into a hardened criminal.”
“They knew about my parents, so they gave me the benefit of the doubt. My grandfather talked some sense into me. Reminded me I still had a life to live. I’d want my parents to be proud of me.”
“It obviously worked. You graduated college. Got this job.”
I waited for him to tease me about how lucky I was but instead, his eyes filled with regret before he looked out over the water. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
I wanted to cup his cheek, turning him to face me, and ask why the sudden change in his demeanor. Instead, I watched his profile as he looked out over the water. There was something weighing on him, and it wasn’t his injury. Had I never taken the time to notice it, or had he buried it down deep, keeping it a secret from everyone like Reid had his speech impediment? Had he lost someone too?
I wanted to ask him but I sensed it would be better to wait for him to open up to me. The truth would come out eventually. The only question was, could I handle it when it did?
Chapter Ten
JONAH
Last night, I’d said I needed to get home because I had an early physical therapy appointment. Callie was quiet on the ride back to Rebel Sports. I appreciated that she didn’t try to fill the silence with inane chatter. She seemed to sense that I didn’t want to talk.
I parked then waited for her to get out of my truck. She’d placed her hand on my knee, telling me she was there for me if I needed it because my teammates wouldn’t be as good of a listener as she would be. Our eyes met, and I saw so much understanding in her eyes, I wanted to erase the distance between us and pull her into my arms. I wanted to take solace in her. I wanted to confide in her, but at the same time, I didn’t want to see the judgment in her eyes. Instead, I nodded tightly, trying to stay in control.
Watching her walk to her car, her head bowed, her keys in her hands, I let myself imagine that we were dating. That I had someone to talk to, to accept me for who I was. I felt light, almost hopeful. I hadn’t felt that outside of football in a long time. Excitement filtered through me. The possibilities seemed endless. Too quickly, the darkness crept back in. The idea of allowing that sweet girl in, only to hurt her, was unforgivable.
Football allowed me to be someone else. A hero to a kid, a fan, for those four quarters on Sunday. But I knew the truth, I was no one’s hero, and I’d certainly never be hers.
I worked harder than ever in physical therapy, determined to get better. If I didn’t have football, I didn’t know what I had.
After the grueling physical therapy session, I walked into Rebel Sports, almost running into Callie. Instead, I stepped to the side, steadying her with my hand on her shoulders.
“Sorry.” She didn’t look up. She looked preoccupied with something.
I squeezed one shoulder lightly to get her attention.
She looked up at me in surprise, recognition filtered over her face. “Oh, Jonah.”
“Where are you going?”
Callie’s gaze darted from me to the parking lot. “A nurse called from my grandfather’s personal care home. She said he’s forgetting things. He’s easily agitated. I wanted to check in.”
“Oh.” Should I offer to go with her?
She pulled her arm away from me. “Reid said it was okay.”
“Of course. Want me to drive you?” From what I remembered, her grandfather was in a home north of the city. A far drive for someone who was as upset as she seemed to be.
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” She licked her lips.
She was worried.
The decision to help settled my gut. “I’ll drive you.”
I walked to my SUV, hoping she’d follow.
“You don’t have to,” she said when I opened the passenger side door for her.
“I want to.” I infused confidence into my words so she’d go along with it.
She climbed in, her gaze on the windshield.
Emotion filled the cracks and crevices of my heart. I was worried about her, but it was something more. I wanted to help her if I could. I wanted to be there for her.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turned on the SUV, glancing over at her before backing out. Her posture was stiff. Her arms wrapped around herself as if she was holding herself together.
“You’re not alone in this. You have Reid, Dylan, and me.” I’m sure it felt that way not having other relatives to help.
“I know.” Her voice was soft as she looked out the window.
“Is he okay?”
She looked at me cautiously. “Yeah, I mean, he has early-onset Alzheimer’s, so it’s a matter of time before things progress. The medicine had been working.”
I assumed it wasn’t anymore. I leaned over, squeezing her knee. “You’re worried.”
“He’s all I have.”
“I know.” That one admission, even though I already knew that was the case, splintered my heart. It cracked wide open for her.
He was the only family she had. I might have lost someone important to me, but I still had my pare
nts, my sisters, my friends, and my teammates.
I handed her my phone. “Can you put his address in the GPS?”
I hoped focusing on something else would take her mind off what she’d lost, and her grandfather.
She typed quickly on the phone, handing it back to me. “Thank you.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Was I her friend? I was her boss she’d kissed a couple of times. We’d crossed that line already. I studied her carefully before turning my attention to the road. Her brow was furrowed, her spine rigid.
She didn’t acknowledge my statement which made me worry about her even more.
“He’ll be okay.”
Her gaze shifted from the road to me. “I thought I’d have more time.”
“What’s been going on?” I wanted to keep her talking.
“It wasn’t often, but here and there he’d forget what we’d talked about, asking me the same questions all over again. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in school when he knows I graduated. He’ll forget what he was doing a second ago. It was disturbing but not bad as far as symptoms go.”
“What’s different now?”
“The nurses are saying he’s more forgetful, more agitated. Eventually, he’ll need to be placed in a specialized facility for Alzheimer’s patients. He’s supposed to be caring for himself where he is now.”
I couldn’t imagine losing someone slowly over time. Knowing it was coming, but not able to stop it. My chest ached for her. I wanted to say I’m sorry, but the words seemed trite for what I was feeling. “You’re worried that it’s coming soon.”
Pain slid over her face. “Yeah.”
I couldn’t do anything to ease her pain. I felt so helpless to do anything. At the same time, I felt out of place. Reid should be here. He was friends with Frank. He’s the one who’s always been there for Callie.
It cost me to mention him when I wanted to be her go-to guy even if I couldn’t explain why. I had no claim to her. “Do you want me to call Reid? Would he want to know?”
“I’ll tell him.” She leaned back, closing her eyes.
She was quiet the rest of the way to the facility. I turned right, pulling down a long drive to the sprawling home. There was lush green grass, a pavilion to visit with loved ones, and paths surrounding it. It seemed nice. Was money something she was worried about?