Hope for Us (Hope Series Book #3) (3 page)

Even the two hours I spent worrying about seeing him didn’t prepare me for the moment he walked through that door. I ran through several emotions all in a matter of minutes. Some expected. But one surprised me: lust. Seeing him again took my breath away. I wasn’t expecting him to look better than he did when we were in college.

His posture and stance was all upright and confident. He glided when he walked. He wore dark jeans and a white t-shirt that clung to his chest and fit his arms but fell straight over the waist of his jeans and gathered around his hips. A clunky watch slid down his wrist, and he wore no other jewelry. I would have heard if he had gotten married, but I checked out his ring finger on his left hand anyway.

I thought I would be fine. I would control my emotions and breathe normal any second now, but then he spoke. He asked me how I was doing, and my body tensed and I started sweating. At least that would hide the way I really felt. 

And then he leaned and I smelled his spicy wood scent and I panicked. So, I did what I always did. I walked away.

I approached the table and gathered the folder with his contract. I slid it back down the table and placed it in front of the chair across from me and sat down. I felt his eyes on me, but didn’t acknowledge him.

He sighed and returned to the table and sat down.

“Adam said you might want to have your agent on the phone while we go over this. You want me to call him.”

I felt his stare. It warmed my skin, but I kept my eyes on the paper. I didn’t trust myself to look him in the eye. I wasn’t ready to deal with it all over again. It hurt too much because I knew he was right. I found a loophole to avoid being with him.

Jackson flew out to Dallas for Jack's first birthday and we spent the most amazing night together. Jackson and I connected in every way possible. It was months later when I found out he was dating someone else. That night I thought were was no way in the world my Jackson would hurt me. Turned out, he hurt me worse than anyone and from then on, I didn't trust myself.

Jackson didn’t answer me, but picked up his phone and dialed.

“Hey, J. You made it?”

“Yeah, I have you on speakerphone here with Carrington Butler. She’s going to go over the contract with us.”

“Carrington?”

“Yeah.”

The guy on the phone paused and stifled a chuckle. Jackson had his head down, reading over the contract.

“Well, nice to meet you, Carrington.” He said my name like he knew me. “I’m Michael Murphy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“J, I’ve read through it pretty well, so give it a read through and then let me know if you have any questions.”

I sat back and watched as Jackson and his agent went over the contract. I followed along on my copy, but I wasn’t really listening. I studied Jackson’s hands. Wondering if they would somehow feel different. Would they be rougher or maybe as a big-time NFL quarterback, he took care of them more. His nails were clean and buffed.

A fine layer of dark hair covered his arms, but the muscles weren’t obscured in any way. I missed it before, but he wore a silver chain around his neck. I couldn’t tell if anything hung on the end because it disappeared into his shirt.

“Carr,” he said.

“What?”

“I said, do you have anything to add?” Michael asked.

“Uh, no. It’s all pretty standard.”

Jackson smirked as he initialed each page.

“Okay, buddy. Have a good time at training camp and I’ll be down to check on you soon. And, Carrington, I have to say I am really happy to finally meet you.”

“Goodbye, Michael,” Jackson said before I could respond and then hung up the phone before Michael could say anything else. He looked at me and his cheeks tinted a slight shade of red. He smiled, and he returned to signing the contract.

“You told him about me?” I asked.

“Might have mentioned you once or twice.” Jackson said, but his face remained on the papers.

“What did you tell him?”

He finished the last signature, clicked the pen, gathered the papers in the folder, and handed them to me.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. I’m surprised that’s all.”

“How’s Jack?”

Way to change the subject. I let it go.

“He’s great. He already caught wind of your trade and has been blowing up my phone.”

“Mine, too.”

Jackson unlocked his phone and handed it to me.

“You didn’t answer him, yet?”

“I thought I should probably talk to you, first.”

“Thank you.”

“About the only good things so far about this trade is getting the chance to spend more time with Jack. If you’re okay with that?”

“Of course. Jack loves you. I would never prevent you from spending time with him.”

“I want to spend time with you, too.”

“Jackson.”

“Listen, I’m not saying we should get back together or anything like that, but before all of it went to shit, we were really good friends. I miss that.” He paused and stared. “I miss you.”

Words left my brain. He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t simple. If it was, then why weren’t we still together? He didn’t wait for me to answer.

“I have a great idea. Let me take you out to dinner and we can discuss … boundaries.”

“Boundaries?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not looking to turn your life upside down. I have a lot to deal with this year, and I promise I’m not looking for any distractions. I need to concentrate one hundred percent on football.”

He smiled and my insides warmed from the power of his smile. If he didn’t want to turn my life upside down then, he needed to stop smiling at me like that?

“With that being said, don’t you have to get ready for camp?”

“Well, I’m already packed and I have to eat.”

He laced his fingers together and it hid his face.

I reached out to pull his hands down and the contact sent a subtle shock down my arm. I pulled away.

I studied his face to see if he felt it, too, but he made no indication. He sat and waited for my response. 

“Okay. Let’s go eat.”

Jackson and I walked side-by-side back to the lobby. We found Cameron sitting on the reception desk on his phone. He hung up as we approached.

“Hey, so we all set?”

“Yeah. Carrington and I are going to grab a bit to eat. So, I guess I’ll see you at camp tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m supposed to show you to the hotel.” He said confused and disappointed.

“I’m a grown up. I can find my way around.” Jackson turned to me. “You want to leave your car here?”

“Uh, depends. What do you feel like?”

“A steak.”

“I’ll get my car, and you can follow me.”

I headed across the parking lot and shivered as I felt both their eyes on my backside.

We both arrived at Maestro’s, the famous steakhouse, and valeted our cars. I called ahead and used my own Cardinals connections to make sure we got in right away. The valet and the host recognized Jackson and greeted him, welcomed him to Arizona, and wished him luck with the season.

The waitress giggled after every sentence as she recited the specials and ignored me. When she took our drink order and disappeared, Jackson relaxed.

We sat back in the black leather booth near the back of the restaurant. The noise level from the bar didn’t spill over to the dining room. I turned to Jackson and watched him survey the restaurant waiting for the next assault of adoration. 

“I figured you would be used to it by know,” I said.

“Used to what?”

“Being recognized and admired by the world.”

“Yeah, no,” he said as he took a sip of water. “It still freaks me out.”

“Well, you do it well.”

“Thank you. Wait. Did you just compliment me? No, it’s not possible.”

“Shut up.” I laughed and turned my attention to the menu.

“Could it be that Carrington Olivia Butler no longer hates me?”

I sat the menu down and frowned. “I never hated you.”

“Okay, but you’ve been mad at me for five years.”

“Not all five years. Two years ago when you broke your leg, I wasn’t mad at you that day.”

“Oh, yeah. Feeling sorry for me doesn’t count.”

“Well, take what you can get, okay?”

“Okay.”

The waitress returned with our drinks. I order a Patron Silver and Jackson drank an expensive sounding whiskey on the rocks. We were a long way from the cheap vodka and beer kegs of our college days. We ordered and sat in silence for a minute sipping our drinks.

“You excited about the trade?” I asked.

“I haven’t really had a chance to process it, yet.”

“It will be good for you. Good for your career to have a fresh start.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’ve never been in this position before.”

“What position?”

“Fighting for a starting job. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve always been the best player on the team.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid, my dad told me that if you worked harder than anyone else in the room, things would work out eventually. So, that’s what I did. You know my reputation. I work hard at my job. I study, strategize, and prepare. I think about how I can make everyone out on that field look better and do better. It’s the only way I know how to be, but it’s hard when it hasn’t worked out the way you wanted it.”

“This time will be different.”

“Yeah, it’s different already. I heard it last week. I am one mediocre season away from being a bust.”

“Come on, Jackson, you don’t believe that?”

“No, but everyone else does.” He paused and looked off across the restaurant.

“No, they don’t. I don’t. Your family and friends don’t believe that.” I reached across and squeezed his arm, and although I felt the spark, I didn’t let go. “It’s going to work out this time. I promise.”

“You really think so.” 

“Absolutely. And think of how good it’s going to feel when you succeed and you can tell those haters to go screw themselves.”

“Yeah.” He smirked and held my gaze. I removed my hand from his arm.

“It’s nice to hear you’re still rooting for me.”

“Of course, I am. I've always rooted for you.” As I reached for my drink, I continued, “Getting traded may turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

As soon as the statement left my mouth I wished I could take it back. All sorts of untruths lied in that statement. I didn't want him to get the wrong way. It sounded like I wasn't talking about football anymore.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but it’s still a shock when you hear someone say they don’t want you anymore. Kind of makes you doubt yourself.”

I sat my drink back down and stared at him. Now I knew he wasn't talking about football either.

I'm so not ready for this.

Sitting in the restaurant next to her, we weren’t quite touching, but I felt her energy. She was all nerves, fidgeting with her menu, her drink. She couldn’t keep her hands quiet. I imagined her mind doing the same thing.

I watched her push her hair behind her ear and grab her drink and take a sip. I wanted to tell her to relax. Despite what we had been through together, this didn’t have to mean anything. We were two old friends catching up. Wasn’t that what old friends did when they hadn’t seen each other in five years?

“So.” She tensed. “How do you like living in Arizona?” I asked, and she appeared to calm down. She stopped fidgeting anyway.

“It’s good. I love the city, and Jack loves his school. It’s kind of laidback like Tallahassee, but a bit more sophisticated.”

“Where do you live?”

“Just outside of Tempe, about ten minutes from the office.”

“I need to figure out where I want to live.”

“I love it over here, though.”

“In Scottsdale?”

“Yeah, or Paradise Valley, that’s where all the famous people in Phoenix live.”

“Is it required?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and took a sip. I let myself think for a minute this could work. We could be friends.

“You can afford it. Why don’t you move over there?” I asked, and her smile dropped.

“I’m doing well, but not really pulling down Paradise Valley money, yet.”

“Oh, I mean, I thought with Mr. Griffin’s money you were doing well.”

Her face scrunched, and I stopped talking.

“That’s not mine. It belongs to Jack. I try not to spend it.”

“I know, but it’s not like Jack’s going to be able to spend it all.”

“I don’t need Mr. Griffin’s money.” She said as the crease developed on her forehead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. No need to get upset.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just saying, I am perfectly capable of taking care of me and my son on my own.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“You implied it.”

“Carrington, jeez.” I rubbed my forehead and switched subjects. “How is Jack doing in school?” The only safe subject.

“He’s doing fine.”  I could feel her holding onto the tension of our last exchange.

“He’s still in private school?”

“Yeah, but he wants to go to public school. He has it in his head that private schools don’t produce good athletes.”

“I thought he would grow out of wanting to play football.”

“No, he’s still obsessed with it. He still wants to be like his best buddy Jackson,” she snapped. I didn’t call her on it. Things were tense enough already. “We have the same argument every year about why I won’t let him play yet.”

“What won’t you let him play?”

“You didn’t start playing until you were older.”

“At a private school.”

“Yeah, well, Jack’s school isn’t Brentmore Academy, either.”

“What’s the real reason you won’t let him play?”

“Why does there have to be a reason?”

“I hope you’re not letting him play because of me.”

“What do you mean? I don’t have anything against you being a football player.” She stared daggers.

“Okay. Just asking a question.” I shook my head.

She exhaled and looked down at the table. “It does have to do with you, but not in the way you think.”

“Okay.”

“With Jack’s medical issues, it would devastate him if the doctors told him he couldn’t play. I’ve been avoiding it, so I wouldn’t have to have that conversation with him, yet. Watching his hero do what he loves makes it harder.”

“I’m sorry, Carrington. I didn’t know.” I sat up. “But there are guys in the NFL who have asthma. People prepare for it, manage it.”

“Yeah, but I’m his mother. I’d rather him avoid it all together.” She took a sip and searched the restaurant for a distraction. “I can’t imagine what your mother felt like when she saw you break your ankle.”

My mouth went dry. I try not to think about it either. I never felt anything as painful as or horrifying when my tibia broke and my fibula snapped.

“It was a freak accident.”

“I know, but I don’t know how I’ll be able to sit there and watch people try to hurt my baby.” A smile spread up from the corner of her mouth.

“What?”

“And I can see the other side as well. I’ll probably be the stereotypical athlete’s mom. I’ll be at every game screaming louder than everyone.”

“Oh, yeah.” My shoulders fell. “I thought I’d turned you off to the game altogether.”

“No, I love watching you play.”

“Well, how come you never came to my games?”

“You know why,” she whispered.

The waitress brought our food.

“Can I get you anything else?” The cute blond waitress asked. I looked at her nametag, which I swore she had right over left nipple. She didn’t need to bring any more attention to her breasts; they were kind of sitting out there for everyone to see.

When I looked back at Carrington, she smirked. She’d caught me checking the waitress out. Maybe this was a good thing.

“So, how’s your girlfriend feel about your trade?” 

Okay, not such a good thing?

“What girlfriend?”

“Come on, Jackson, you have to be dating someone.” Her tone accusatory.

“Why do I have to be dating someone? Who are you dating? How would he feel about you sitting here having dinner with your ex-boyfriend?”

“You’re not my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t even get ex-boyfriend status. Well, what am I?”

“I don’t know. I’ll explain it to my boyfriend and see what he thinks.”

My insides clenched.

Oh fuck. She doesn’t have a boyfriend, does she? Why do I even care?

“You have a boyfriend?”

“I asked you first.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Uh-uh, you never answered my question. Who’s this guy you’re seeing?”

“What? Are you jealous?”

“No, just curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“Curious as to what type of guy you finally let in.” Her smile disappeared and she looked down at her plate. I nudged her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s fine. As sad as it sounds, I don’t have time for a relationship. I am too busy with work and what free time I do have, I spend it with Jack.”

“Well, I’m kind of the same way.” She tilted her head up. “Especially during the season, I spend ten to twelve hours a day on football and the rest of the time, I spend asleep.”

Her smile returned. I needed to think before I spoke and find ways to keep her smiling. I enjoyed seeing it on her face.

“Is it harder than you thought it would be, the NFL?”

“Yeah. Coming from FSU, I thought we had as close to a professional system as you can have in college and in my first day of training camp, it was funny how wrong I was.”

“Really?”

“Nothing can prepare you for it, you just have to go through it.”

“Kayla and I watched your first game, and we both couldn’t stop laughing at how scared you looked.”

“As scared as I looked, I felt much worse. I threw up in a trash can right before player introductions.”

“No.”

“Yeah, which was weird because I made it through preseason fine. I went out for pre-game warm-ups. Went through my routine and then the announcer said something like
, now let's give a big cheer for your San Diego Chargers
, and I sprinted to the closest trash can and let it go. It was embarrassing."

She laughed out loud and covered her mouth. The people at the table next to us looked over.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I know. It was a disaster.”

“Yeah, but then you came out and threw for three touchdowns and what, like four hundred yards?”

"I had one pick, though. I needed an IV at half time. I was so dehydrated. Not exactly how I pictured my debut."

“All I remember was the huge smile on your face at the end of the game.”

“Yeah, that turned out to be a pretty good day.”

“Uhh." She covered her mouth with her hand.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. It was a good year for you." 

“Fast forward four years and I get traded.”

“Come one, you know the trade had nothing to do with you. It was a business decision.  You can’t control those. Only thing you can do is take care of what happens on the field and let the rest take care of itself.”

I smirked.

“What?”

“I remember when you knew nothing about football.”

“Well, it turns out that I am a football fan after all.”

We continued our conversation through the rest of dinner and dessert. I avoided any and all minefield topics and enjoyed myself. As we were getting ready to go, her phone rang.

“I’m sorry. It’s Jack, I have to take this.”

Her faced lit up when she read the caller id. It gave me all sorts of warm feeling seeing her relaxed and happy.

“No, please.”

“Hey, baby.”

Jack’s high-pitched mumble exploded through the phone.

“Who?”

“Jackson ...,” Jack said, but the rest trailed off. 

“Hold on a minute.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and covered the phone with her other hand.

“I’m sorry, but if Jack doesn’t speak to you tonight he is going to die.” She rolled her eyes.

I held out my hand.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Jackson. Where are you?”

“I’m with your mom. I had to come by her office to sign some papers before heading off to camp.”

“You saw Mom and not me?”

“We’re working, kid. You know, work before play.” She rolled her eyes at me, and I rolled mine right back. “And if you would go check, I sent you an email about an hour ago.”

I pulled the phone away from my head as Jack dropped the phone. It sounded like he kicked it and then I heard typing.

“Oh, okay.” He sighed. “So come over tonight.”

“It’s late and aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“This is special; Mom won’t mind. For a minute?”

“Okay, let me ask her.” I covered the phone with my other hand. “You mind if I come by for a minute?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Okay, buddy. Mom said okay. We’ll see you soon.”

“Yes. Okay. Cool!”

I followed Carrington. It was a twenty-minute drive through town. I spent the entire drive talking myself out of how good Carrington looked. She exuded confidence and she looked so mature and put together. She wasn’t the innocent girl I had met in college. She seemed to have gotten over her past; but some things she mentioned tonight made me think she hadn’t quite gotten over everything. Maybe she pushed it down further.

My biggest regret was not fighting for her back then. She held so much pain and resentment over what Josh, her ex-boyfriend and Jack’s father, did to her. The sadness consumed her. Even today, I sensed it under the surface of her confident demeanor. The difference between now and then, she had years of practice pushing it down and out of the way.

Carrington pulled into the driveway of a two-story Spanish inspired home on a corner lot. The place had the traditional Phoenix desert landscape of cactus and rocks. I stepped out and the stuffy air disappeared as the night temperature dropped. I walked up the driveway to meet her. Jack threw open the front door and jumped off the porch heading right for me.

“Jackson.”

I bent down and picked him up. I squeezed him tight and he giggled, which made me laugh. He had grown. I put him down and ruffled his sandy blond hair. He had his father’s hair. 

“Hey, Jack. It’s so good to see you.”

I looked up and Carrington watched us with a slight smile on her face.

“You really moving here?”

“As of today, I am an Arizona Cardinal.”

“That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, it is.” I stood up and he put his arms around my waist and I rested my arm on top of his head. “You’re getting tall.”

“Come in and see my room.”

I checked with Carrington, and she nodded.

Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me up the porch steps and into the house.

As soon as we entered the house, Jack dragged me upstairs. It went by too fast for me to process anything on the first floor. The top of the stairs opened into a game room with a couch on one wall and an entertainment center with a mounted flat screen on the opposite wall. Controls from an Xbox game laid strewn on the floor, I had to sidestep them as we headed towards his bedroom.