Booty and the Beast, page 30
The whistle blew.
Our kicker booted the ball through the air.
And somebody knocked on my door.
Of all the goddamned times…
“Charisma!”
My mother’s voice echoed from the hallway. Not what I needed right now.
“I’m not home!” I shouted.
“Charisma Cassidy, you open this door…”
The Monarchs caught the ball and were quickly taken down on the twenty-yard line. I waited until the special teams jogged off the field before I answered the door.
Mom waited in the hallway, a six-pack of beer in one hand, a pizza in the other. She bustled passed me, bursting into my condo with a tut of her tongue.
The living room was a little untidy. Blankets strewn across the couch, pillows on the floor, my computer and files filling up most of the coffee table. I’d even left two empty glasses on the side tables.
It wasn’t like me.
“I didn’t order any pizza,” I said.
Mom fluttered through my house. “Well, the last time I tried to watch a Rivets game with your father, his shoes nearly went through the TV, and my couch was stained with beer, pizza, and everything else he knows he’s not supposed to be eating but doesn’t tell you about.”
“I didn’t know you liked watching the games.”
“I like watching the players.”
That made more sense. “Well, you’re already here, so…”
Mom made herself at home. “Did I miss the tip-off?”
“That’s basketball. This is the kickoff.”
She peered at the TV. “Did I miss Nick?”
Just hearing his name hurt. I winced but pretended that I was rubbing my neck.
“No,” I said.
Mom frowned. “Isn’t he playing?”
The thought ached through my chest. “No, he’s playing. He’s starting actually. But our defense is on the field now.”
“And receivers are…?”
“Offense, Mom.”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “I always figured he was a better tight end.”
I wasn’t in the mood for a joke, no matter how right she was. “No, that’s your other favorite. Lachlan.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting in the cuddle with both of them.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Huddle. And no, I don’t want to imagine you cuddling with my ex…” I didn’t even know what to call him. “Nick.”
Mom frowned at the neatly organized mess on my coffee table and simply set the pizza box over top of it all.
“You know I’m teasing.” She studied me as her smile faded. “Lord knows you could use some cheering up.”
I pointed to the pizza. “You know that’s not good for us.”
“I ordered it with plenty of vegetables.”
“It’s not the vegetables I’m worried about.”
Mom shushed me with a waved hand. “You can have one slice. I’ll go fix you a salad to eat with it.”
“Mom, I’m not that hungry...”
She didn’t listen, bustling into my kitchen. “Now, Charisma, I know how you must be feeling.”
Like an idiot? A fool?
Like someone who should’ve known better and still made every damned mistake she’d warned herself not to make during the last five years?
Mom busied herself in the refrigerator. She wouldn’t like what she found. I had three different types of lettuce on the bare shelves and not much else.
“Honestly, Charisma. What do you eat around here?”
“I eat at the practice facility.”
“Every meal?”
Why lie? “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a hard-enough time convincing the guys to eat quinoa. At least I could practice what I preach, or they will never let me come after them with a scoop of chlorophyll for their smoothies again.”
Mom frowned. “Is that really the reason?”
No. “Yes.”
“You know…I really hoped this would work out for you.”
I leaned back, bumping my head against the wall. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, you’ll need to talk about it at some point. It’s not good to let these things fester.”
“I’m okay with festering. I compartmentalize like a champ.”
Mom glanced me over. “Yes. I remember that. First you compartmentalized with ice cream. Then Doritos. Then sandwiches. Eventually it switched and suddenly you coped with salads, raw foods, fruits and vegetables and exercising for so many hours a day it was like you were punishing your body instead of forgiving yourself.”
We’d need the full-fat dressing for this conversation.
I hid it in the back of the fridge. No need for a bowl. I ripped open a bag of prepared salad and poured the dressing inside. A good shake of the bag dressed the lettuce for me.
“Mom,” I said. “I’m gonna handle this my own way.”
“You don’t have to be heartbroken alone.”
I always knew the plan would work, but I never thought I’d be on the worst end of it. All I’d ever wanted was the opportunity to focus on my job, the Rivets, and myself.
I had no idea when I got my wish, I would hate every damned minute of it.
I was finally alone. And it was the most terrible feeling in the world.
I led her to the living room. “There’s a lot you don’t understand about what happened. Just leave it at that.”
Mom followed me with the napkins. “Nick is a handsome, genuine man. And you liked him very much.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Of course, there is. There always is.”
I sighed. “So, let’s just drop it.”
Mom opened the pizza box, and the whiff of the savory, fatty, delicious mess was an all-too-familiar pick-me-up. I took only one slice.
Everything in moderation meant nothing binged in desperation.
“You know,” Mom said. “He does love you.”
The pizza burned the roof of my mouth, preventing me from speaking. That was good. There was nothing else I wanted to say on the subject.
“And he must care about you a great deal, even if football is getting in the way.”
I shook my head.
Mom ignored it.
“Maybe you two can work it out. He’s dedicated to the game, but his feelings for you are certainly—”
I dropped my plate onto the coffee table, accidentally smearing Cole Hawthorne’s file with marinara sauce and cheese.
The frustration bubbled up from within me. I clenched my fists to prevent my hands from trembling.
“For Christ’s sake, Mom.” I groaned. “It wasn’t real.”
“What wasn’t real?” she asked.
“The relationship. Us. Me and Nick. It wasn’t supposed to be real.”
“Now what on earth does that mean?”
“It was a fake relationship. He was my pretend boyfriend.”
Mom beseeched Jesus before asking her next question. “And why would you do something like that?”
“Because of you.”
She pointed toward her chest. “Me?”
Five years of resentment cracked the perfect façade I’d managed to hide behind for so long.
I thought I was stronger than this. That I was better. That I wouldn’t surrender to pain and tears of regret for being so damned foolish.
“You were obsessed with finding me somebody,” I said. “All you wanted was for me to get married. Every day you’d set me up with some crazy person you dragged in off the street. I didn’t want to date anyone. I didn’t want to be in a relationship. So, when Nick came to town, we made an agreement. He’d pretend to be my boyfriend, and then he’d break up with me so I would have a reason to stay single.”
Mom held her hands up, and I recognized the wait-until-I-tell-the-girls-at-the-salon look. Her mouth set into a thin, disappointed line, and I almost feared she’d grab the wooden spoon from the kitchen just to beat some sense into me.
“Why would you ever do anything so stupid?” Mom asked.
“I didn’t have a choice. You’re obsessed. No matter how many times I told you I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, you wouldn’t listen.” I groaned. “But you haven’t heard the best of it.”
“Oh, Lord. Give me strength.”
“I did fall in love with Nick. My stupid fake relationship became real.”
“And why is that a problem?”
“Because I never expected it to go that far.”
At least mom could laugh at my misfortune. “And how far did you want it to go?”
“As far as it would take to convince you that it was real. I didn’t want to fall for him.”
“But you did.”
Like a fool. “And I regret it.”
“I can’t believe any daughter of mine would ever regret falling in love.”
And I couldn’t believe anybody would want to fall in love. Nothing about it made sense. Love forced us to act recklessly, idiotically, and unbelievably selfishly. There was nothing wholesome about it. All it did was complicate a relatively uncomplicated life.
Worse, it made me realize how much I hid in my own isolation.
I tried to focus on the game. Failed. Our defense had nearly intercepted a pass, and instead of cheering, dread cemented in my stomach. I wasn’t ready for the offense to take the field. Not yet.
I wasn’t ready to see him.
“It hurts,” I admitted. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
Mom didn’t answer, nibbling her crust. She ate the worst parts of the pizza first, like I’d snatch it away from her.
“People get hurt all the time, Charisma,” she said. “It’s a part of life.”
“And I didn’t want it to be part of mine.”
“And that’s why you hide.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t hide.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
I’d welcomed her into my house, hadn’t I? “That’s not true.”
Mom smirked. “You know, I could really go for a cup of tea. Why don’t you tell me where you keep your coffee mugs…without looking?”
“…In the cabinet.”
Mom tilted her head. “Which one?”
Damn it. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined my kitchen. It didn’t work. I gave up with a groan.
“I get my tea and coffee at the practice facility.”
“You get everything at the practice facility, Charisma. Sometimes I wonder why you even have a home here. Unless, of course, it’s so you have a place to retreat when your coworkers get a little too close to you.”
“I come home every night.”
“Only to sleep.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Mom sighed. “Nothing, if you truly enjoy working that much. But if you’re simply using it as an excuse to hide from the world, your family, or any relationship, then it’s a problem. And I will not allow my daughter to fear this world, to fear taking a risk.”
I really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“And you shouldn’t be.” Mom wagged a finger at me. “You are an amazing person, Charisma. You lost one hundred pounds on your own. You took it upon yourself to start working out to take charge of your life. You took your life into your own hands, damned the consequences, and changed everything for the better. You could’ve sat back and let life happen to you, but you didn’t. And you should know how much I admire you for that.”
The profound relief welled tears in my eyes. I looked away. “I’m not talking about losing the weight.”
“Life was tough for you before you lost the weight, but it wasn’t all bad.”
I agreed. “It made me the girl I am today.”
“Someone who’s more scared than ever.”
Rivet games were stressful enough. I didn’t need this too. I ditched the pizza as my stomach turned.
“I just wanna watch the game, Mom.”
To demonstrate, I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up as the offense took the field.
The player lineup flashed on the screen. Jack Carson’s smiling image popped up first, along with his stats from last season. I held my breath as the announcers introduced each member of the offensive line, our running back, and Lachlan.
Nick appeared last. His portrait featured a divinely inspired smirk, peeking through his sexy beard.
My heart fluttered. My eyes burned.
He had ruined everything.
“I know you’re afraid of getting close to somebody.” Mom continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “I know you’re afraid of gaining weight again.”
Enough was enough. I stood, pitching the remote into the couch.
“No, Mom.” I didn’t hide the resentment in my voice. “That was always your fear.”
She quieted. “What?”
“You’re the one afraid I’ll get fat again. You’re the one claiming that I’m wasting my life. You wanted me to find somebody, get into a relationship, and sink my teeth into him before I swallowed a doughnut instead.”
Mom’s signature glare was enough to return me to the couch.
For the second time this week, I’d made a horrible mistake.
“Now, you listen to me, Charisma Cassidy. I don’t care how much you weigh, how you look, or if you’re on an all-fruit diet.” She pointed at me. “The only thing I want in this world is for you to be happy. And you aren’t. You haven’t been. And for the last five years, I’ve tried my hardest to figure out why so I could help you. And now? I’ve finally figured it out.”
I crossed my arms. “Figured what out?”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you were happy.” She silenced me with a raised finger. “You work all the time. You have no friends. You spend all your time at that practice facility, and then you come home to an empty apartment. Sure, you have some furniture. And you might have something to eat in the fridge. But this is supposed to be a home. Instead, you’ve kept it a blank canvas that you fear staining with paint. You are so afraid of living your life that you have done nothing but work.”
“Because my life is my job,” I said. “It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“And is that all you want out of life?”
“For the time being? Yes.”
“And what about Nick?”
Maybe one day his name wouldn’t pierce my heart.
But it wouldn’t be now. It wouldn’t be while he was on the field.
It wouldn’t be while I watched him lineup, so unbelievably gorgeous in his Rivets’ uniform.
He stood tall and strong, dead-focused on the defense before him. Jack hadn’t thrown to him yet, but I knew what was coming. Everybody knew it. Somehow, Jack and Nick had formed a bond. They understood each other, knew what the other was thinking.
There wouldn’t be a more dynamic duo in the league for many years.
And I only wished I could be there to share it with him.
I grabbed a napkin and tied it into a knot. “I don’t care about Nick.”
Mom knew better. “Let’s pretend for a moment that you’re being honest. Why don’t you care about him anymore?”
The napkin tore to bits. I brushed it out of my hand. “Because I never wanted to base my self-worth on him again.”
Mom sighed. “But that’s what love is. It’s not just what you feel about yourself, but what others feel about you. And that’s why it scares you.”
“It’s more than that. I have a bad past with him. You don’t know everything.”
“I heard enough at the party.”
“I thought he was a friend in high school. Turns out he was just a bully. He hurt me.”
“Will you ever forgive him?”
I groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re taking his side.”
Mom shrugged. “Whose side am I supposed to take? Neither of them are any good. You’re a girl who’s afraid to love because of her past. He’s a boy afraid to love so he can protect his future.”
I watched the game. Third and five.
Jack dropped three steps and delivered a laser strike across the middle of the field. Nick had only one man covering him, and he’d already outmaneuvered the safety. He caught the ball, tucked it, and immediately juked.
The defender stumbled, and Nick had an open field. He made it twenty yards before a cornerback brought him down. Hard.
He popped up immediately. Dropped the ball. No showboating, no excitement. Just raw, unbelievable determination. He jogged to the huddle, merely nodding his Jack gave him a celebratory slap across the helmet.
I had nothing left but a confession. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mom did. Too bad she didn’t tell me. For twenty-five years, she had controlled my life. Why the hell would she give me a choice now?
“Do you want him?” she asked.
“No.”
“Really?”
I settled onto the couch, wishing I could watch the entire game and not just the one receiver lined up at the bottom of the screen.
“I don’t want to love him,” I said.
“That’s not how it works.”
“He’s an arrogant son of a bitch. Completely obsessed with football. He thinks of nothing else except the game, not even his own needs. And worst of all, he’s right about me. He knows who I was in the past.”
“And that scares you?”
More than anything. “Yes. I never wanted to let anybody that close. And now it hurts as much as I thought it would.”
Mom knew me better than that. She waited, taking another slice of pizza.
“But…” she said.
The words stuck in my throat. “But it was such a relief. I didn’t have to hide anything. He knew exactly who I was. What I wanted. What I could be. I didn’t have to pretend with him.”
“Most people go their entire lives searching for a person that knows them that well.”
And I had thrown it away.
“It’s not that I don’t love him,” I said. “But he’s got it stuck in his head that he’s no good for me unless he’s on that field. He’s worried about providing for me, making a life for himself. He needs help, but he won’t take any. He refuses.”
