Down By Contact: A Making the Score Football Romance

by Tawdra Kandle

  “You can’t really believe that.” Leo scowled. “Gia didn’t break up with you because she fell for another guy or because she didn’t care for you. She did it because she cares too much, and she thinks—” He broke off.

  “No, don’t stop there.” I spread out my hand. “Go on. Tell me what she thinks.”

  “She thinks she’s not good enough for you. She’s thinks that there’s something wrong with her, and that if she lets herself get too close, she’ll ruin you, too. That’s what she told me before.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s how she feels now, but I can tell you that she’s . . . better. She’s taking steps to heal. And if you love her like you say you do, you’ll respect that process.”

  I snorted. “Respect the process. Sounds like hipster mumbo-jumbo.”

  “Well, it’s not. It’s the truth. I’m not going to break her confidence, but I can tell you that Gia is doing everything she can to figure this out, to fight back and be strong.” He rubbed one hand over his face. “That’s one of the reasons I’m up here, actually. Today Gia and I spoke at a couple of different schools, on behalf of the Matt Lampert Foundation. We presented at assemblies in the middle schools in both Gatbury and Eatonboro, and we also visited the Eatonboro High School.”

  “She was here? In Gatbury?” I’d thought my anger was waning, but now it flared back. My girl had fucking been in my town, and Leo hadn’t bothered to let me know?

  “She was. And she did an incredible job. She was nervous as hell, and she kept telling me that she was going to mess it up, but she didn’t.” He exhaled a long breath. “I wanted you to know, because there was some media coverage, and it might show up on the evening news. I didn’t want you to be blindsided by it.”

  I digested that for a moment. “I’d be able to see her on the news?”

  “If they show that. You never know until the last minute, but I know they took a lot of footage, and they liked the angle of Matt’s ex-girlfriend and his best friend trying to make something positive out of his death. One of the stations that covered us is the one where Gia works, so there’s probably a better than good chance that one will show more.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Tate.” Leo leaned back. “Listen, I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. I really think she’s going to come around and get in touch with you. Try to have faith.”

  Faith was something I’d had precious little of lately. “Right. Sure. It’ll all work out, huh? I just need to be patient. Be the good guy. Pretend that it’s not killing me.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Leo grinned. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. It’ll work out. Look at me. Back in February, I thought my life was ending. Now . . .” His smile grew. “Quinn’s coming home in two weeks. She’s going to come down to Richmond for my home opener. I think she’s taking a job down there, and if I get my way, she’ll be moved in with me and wearing my ring before Halloween. Do you think you can foresee forgiving me in time to come to our wedding?”

  I sighed. I couldn’t stay mad at this guy. “I think we can work something out.”

  “Excellent.” He stood up. “I gotta run, because I’m flying back to Richmond tonight. But maybe now you’ll take my calls again. Are we good?” He offered me his hand.

  I wanted to stay pissy longer, but deep down, I knew what Leo had said was true. He really was a good friend to Gia, and I couldn’t hold it against him, especially when he was only trying to take care of her, which was something I could respect and understand.

  Rising to my feet, I accepted his handshake. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  “Thanks, man.” Leo punched me on the shoulder. “You know I got your back, right? Whenever Gia mentions you, I’m always talking you up.”

  I didn’t want to ask, but now that Leo had brought it up, I was enough of a masochist to do it anyway. “Does she talk about me?”

  He nodded. “She does. Not a lot, but now and then. She misses you, that I know. And every now and then, she asks if I’ve heard from you. Full disclosure, she asked me to make sure you knew about us being here today, after it was over. I’ll probably give her a call on the way to airport and let her know that you’re doing okay.”

  “You’re going to lie to her, huh?” I couldn’t help myself. The edge of bitterness wasn’t quite gone yet.

  “No. You are going to be all right. That’s the truth. If she asks me if you’re missing her or if you’re still upset and hurting, I’ll be honest about that, too.”

  “Tell her . . .” I tried to think of the right words to say, exactly what I needed Gia to hear just now. “Tell her that nothing’s changed for me. Tell her that everything I said before still stands. Tell her I’ll wait forever.”

  Compassion and empathy shone in Leo’s eyes. “I’ll make sure she understands. Hang in there.”

  He side-stepped to share a quick hug with Pops and then waved at me before he went through the door. I managed a tight smile as I watched him go.

  “You were hard on him.” Pops stared me down from his spot on the sofa. “Leo’s a good boy. He’s a good friend, too.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I rubbed my jaw. “I know it, but I can’t help it if I’m still pissed at him. He’s my only connection to Gia, and I feel like maybe he could’ve done more back when it happened. When she broke up with me.”

  “If he’d pushed the issue back then, she might have cut off communication with him, too. She needed to feel like there was someone in her corner. If you love her, you want the best for her, don’t you? You don’t want her to be on her own. As difficult as this time has been for you, you have friends. And you have me. If Gia’s relationship with her parents is as distant as you’ve said, she probably needed the support of someone like Leo.”

  “I know you’re right. Doesn’t make it any easier on me.” I collapsed into the chair Leo had just vacated. “I just miss her so much, Pops. How can it feel like part of me was ripped away? We were only together for a few months.”

  “I get it, son.” Pops wagged his head. “I really do. There’s no kind of hurt like being separated from the one you love. It doesn’t matter really how long you’ve known her or how long you dated. Pain is pain.”

  There was nothing like getting sympathy from a man who’d lost the love of his life over twenty-five years before and still missed her every day. And here I was whining about my first girlfriend kicking me to the curb.

  “Thanks, Pops.” I managed a smile, although I wasn’t sure how genuine it seemed. “You’ve been really patient with me this whole time. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass.”

  “Eh.” He shrugged. “We all have our moments, don’t we?” He coughed a little and reached for the television remote. “It’s almost five. Should we turn on the news and see if Gia made the broadcast?”

  “Yeah. Please.” I settled back, and we watched in silence as the anchors went through the typical spiel of international and national news before they began the local coverage. Fifteen minutes into the show, they teased the upcoming segment.

  “A local high school football star, now playing in the pros, paid a visit home today to give back to his community. We’ll have that story and more coming up after the break.” And then for just a fraction of a second, Gia was there on the screen, her pretty face smiling as she stood next to Leo, gazing out over a sea of middle school students.

  My leg jiggled up and down all during the commercials that seemed to go on forever. And then when the news came back on, the anchors felt the need to banter for a few moments, talking about the weather and how the Philadelphia teams were doing—baseball was floundering and football looked promising, with opening day coming soon. The camera panned around to face the pretty blonde female anchor as she smiled.

  “Today, some local students in a small New Jersey town had a special guest at their assembly. Leo Taylor, who played football for Eatonboro and is now a starting tight-end with the Richmond Rebels, spoke at the middle school in his hometown. And he came with a v
ery special message.”

  The voice-over began, and there was Leo, standing at a podium, speaking earnestly. “Matt Lampert was one of my best friends and a talented football player. He once sat right there on the bleachers where you guys are today. He led our team to championships two years in a row. But Matt was hiding pain. So much pain.” Leo paused, letting his gaze roam over the audience. “That pain led him to look for solutions and relief in dangerous ways, including drugs and alcohol. It ended with him dying before he could graduate from college.”

  Leo spoke clearly and eloquently, but I wasn’t paying attention, because just behind him, in a standard-issue wooden chair, Gia sat. I could tell she was nervous by the way she pressed her lips together tightly and twisted her necklace around one finger. Those were her classic tells.

  The reporter broke in then, talking about Matt, showing his picture from high school. A surge of anger rose in me, unexpected but not, I thought, unwarranted. And then I heard her voice.

  “If you’d asked me about Matt Lampert when I was your age, I’d have told you he was mean. A jerk. No one I wanted to know. But later on, I did get to know him. And while there’s no doubt that Matt fought his demons, I can’t help believing that if he had had mental health support and counseling earlier in his life, he would still be with us today.”

  They pulled away from the close-up of Gia, and the reporter began to speak again, this time talking about the moving article Gia had written, telling Matt’s story, and about how the students had reacted to the assembly. The piece ended with one last shot of Gia and Leo, standing together in the front of the assembled students.

  “It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Pops spoke up. “That young man, all that talent, and he just let it go to waste.”

  “I think you mean he threw it away with both hands.” I corrected.

  “It wouldn’t hurt for you to find a little compassion.” Pops tone was mildly censorious. “There but for the grace of God, you know. You two had more in common than you might like to believe. You both grew up without parents, and you both had a talent for football. And you both loved the same woman.”

  “Matt didn’t love her. Matt used her. Matt tried to destroy her.” I wasn’t wavering on this point.

  “That’s something you’ll never know for sure. Matt’s not around to prove or disprove it. But the other points you can’t argue. There are some who would say you had the benefit of being raised by a man who gave you attention and raised you with care. That would be me, by the way.”

  “I figured that out.” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair.

  “You also had a better than average set of teachers and coaches who made it their business to make sure you didn’t fall through the cracks. None of that negates the fact that you’ve always been a good kid, Tate. It could be that even if you’d grown up with grandparents who had more money than sense and skated your way through school, you might’ve turned out okay. I’m just saying that it wouldn’t hurt you to realize that Matt might’ve had a better chance if he’d been given a little more attention and little more love. That’s why Leo and Gia are doing this work. They want to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to other kids.”

  “I guess.” I stood up. “I’m going for a run before dinner. You okay if we wait another hour before we eat?”

  “Sure.” Pops let me walk down the hall before he called my name again. “Tate . . . you don’t think so now, but someday, you’ll look back on this time, and it won’t even seem like a blip on your radar. It’ll be like nothing in the grand scheme of your life. Trust me.”

  I stopped at the door to my room, my hand on the knob. “Do you think Gia and I have a future? Do you think she’ll come back to me?” It was a question I hadn’t dared to ask him before. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  Pops hesitated. “I hope so, son. I miss her, too, you know. She brightened life for both of us for a while. I think you have a chance. But no matter what happens, I know you’re going to be okay. You’re strong, Tate. Resilient. You’ve been loving this girl for a long time, and I happen to think that counts for something. But whether it’s Gia or someone else, love isn’t done with you.”

  I opened the door, speaking as I went into my bedroom. “If Gia doesn’t want me, I don’t care about love. She’s my future. Without her, there’s nothing ahead of me.”

  Without waiting for his response, I shut the door quietly behind me.

  Chapter 16

  Gia

  “Hey, gorgeous. How did it go today?” Zelda glanced up at me as I dragged myself through the door of her apartment. She was curled up in the corner of the loveseat, her computer tablet in hand as she smiled at me.

  “I think it was good. It was fucking terrifying, don’t get me wrong, but what Leo and I said seemed to be . . . well-received.” I hung my handbag from the hook on the foyer bench before joining Zelda in the living room. I was always mindful of being extra-neat and tidy now, because I knew such things were important to my friend, and I was still conscious of how much I owed her.

  “That’s wonderful, G. I’m so glad.” Zelda rested her head against the back of the couch, and I thought for the one millionth time that it really wasn’t fair how beautiful she was. I was comfortable with my own brand of cute and sexy, with a little dash of pretty tossed in if I made an effort. I thought our friend Quinn was lovely, with her shining green eyes and model-quality bod. But Zelda was the kind of beautiful that stopped conversation when she walked into a room. What was more, it was effortless on her part, and although she might like to try to hide the fact, it went more than skin-deep. Despite her tough talk and bravado, she was honestly one of the most generous, loyal people I’d ever met . . . aside from Tate.

  Thinking of him brought the familiar, constant pang of regret and pain, and I clenched my fists, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. If Zelda noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  “Was Leo happy with how the talks turned out?” She set her tablet on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around her legs, tucking her feet beneath her.

  “Oh, yeah. One of the teachers who knew us from when we were students there came up afterward. He told us that he’d always been sorry he hadn’t pushed harder with Matt, that he hadn’t gotten in his face more and maybe made a bigger deal of his issues with his grandparents. He wants to be involved in the foundation, too.”

  “That’s terrific.” She paused, studying me with her head tilted. “I assume you didn’t see Tate.”

  My neck jerked, as though I’d been struck. “No. Of course not. Why would I?”

  “Well . . .” Zelda held up her fingers, counting off reasons. “You were in his neighborhood. You haven’t seen him since the day you dumped him. You’re miserable without him, and you’re desperately in love with the guy. So yeah, I thought you might drop in to catch up with him.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not ready yet. And even if I were, I wouldn’t just stop in. How the hell do I know if he’s even still living with Pops? Or if he’d be home, anyway? Or that if he hasn’t found another woman who shows more signs of everyday sanity than I do? No.” I shook my head. “I’m too chicken-shit to even think about seeing him yet.”

  “How will you know unless you do?” Trust Zelda not to shy away from the tough questions.

  In response, I pulled out my never-fail ammunition. “Darla says I’m not ready yet.” Invoking the name of my therapist made me feel needy and pathetic, but before I could wander too far down that road, I pulled myself up short. Seeing Darla did not make me pathetic. It made me smart, because it meant I was taking positive steps toward health. It meant that after a long time of not caring what happened to me, I was actually seeking a way to get better.

  Zelda sighed. “Well, if Darla really said that, I respect it. Still, I feel bad for Tate. Wouldn’t it be okay for you to at least let him know that you’re . . .” She made a rolling motion with her hand. “You know. Working to get to a better place? A
place where the two of you might have a chance again?”

  “Not yet.” I was still too afraid to hope myself, let alone to give Tate a glimmer of belief in something that might never actually come to pass. “But I did ask Leo to talk to him. The TV station came out and took some film of the assembly at Gatbury this afternoon, and I didn’t want Tate to be surprised if he saw it.”

  “That was nice of you,” Zelda remarked. “And brave of Leo, since I’m sure he still isn’t Tate’s favorite person.”

  She wasn’t wrong. When Tate hadn’t been able to talk to me in person or on the phone, he’d reached out to Leo and begged his friend to intercede for him. Poor Leo, who at that point had just come back from seeing Quinn for the first time in months, had been put in the difficult position of having to tell Tate that I was all right, but still refused to see him. Tate had been unhappy, and Leo wasn’t exactly thrilled, either.

  “I’m hoping this will go a little ways toward mending that rift.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m exhausted, so I think I’m going to lie down for a while. Are you going out?”

  She nodded. “I probably won’t be back tonight.” Her cheeks pinked a little, and I bit back a smile. Talking about sex, no matter how graphic and detailed we got, didn’t embarrass my friend one bit, but love and relationships—when it came to herself—still made her slightly bashful. I thought it was adorable and never missed a chance to tell her so. She always responded by flipping me the finger.

  As I headed for my bedroom, I reflected for the millionth time on my gratitude for my friend and for her graciousness in letting me share her home. If it hadn’t been for Zelda, I didn’t know where I would’ve ended up. I still hadn’t found my way back to complete wholeness, true, but I was a hell of a lot closer than I’d been in a long time.

  It hadn’t been an easy road, though. I still cringed when I thought back on those first days and nights I’d spent with Zelda, when I’d been too wrecked to leave the bed she’d so kindly given me. We’d been quite a pair: she was jet-lagged after spending a week in San Francisco with Quinn, and I was . . . well, a crushed, despondent mess. I veered wildly from being furious at what I’d done to Tate and to myself, for having deliberately sabotaged what we’d had, to feeling overwhelming self-pity for my own inability to do anything right.