Page 15 of Catching Our Moment

Shaw

After a few tortuous days of people checking on me, boredom had become my enemy.

I wasn’t someone who ran with an entourage, but even during the off-season, I usually had things to do when I got up in the morning—workouts, film, meetings, promotional appearances, etc.

So just sitting here all day was killing me.

Unfortunately, until I was cleared by the doctor, Kelcie wouldn’t let me work out.

She gave me a few light stretches to keep my muscles from stiffening, but because of the concussion, no cardio.

I couldn’t even take a long walk yet. I wasn’t supposed to be on the computer or watch television or use any type of electronic.

I had all the blinds in the house drawn shut because the brightness of the sun had been an issue, and I was held up in the house like a damn vampire.

Kelcie and Aaron were at work and school, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Even if I didn’t have anything on my agenda, Riley usually had somewhere we “had” to go, or my agent would come up with a place I had to make an appearance.

There hadn’t been any word from Riley on how things were going with her and the reality show.

It was strange how things had changed so much in the last two weeks.

Yet, somehow, it seemed…not so weird. Riley and I were great partners.

We loved to travel, enjoyed good food, and explored new places.

She respected the work I put into the season and understood the off-season wasn’t all fun and games.

Not everyone saw past her superficial veneer, but Riley was smart and driven. She had ambition besides just being my girlfriend and wasn’t looking for me to put a ring on her finger.

I missed her, but mainly, I hoped everything was going well for her.

All I managed to do today was shower and get myself dressed, which, with a broken clavicle and concussion, wasn’t easy. In fact, it took up most of the morning. But by lunch, I’d resorted to seeing how many mac and cheese elbow noodles I could fit on my fork.

So, while I valued my quiet time, not having a set agenda for anytime in the foreseeable future was unnerving.

I had too much time on my hands. Time to think.

I stood in my quaint kitchen in my hometown, living next door to Kelcie, one of my most beloved but disconnected friends.

Twelve birthdays had passed, twelve holiday seasons without her. Twelve football seasons without her smart comments or “suggestions.” And now she and her son were living next door to me. It was as if life had put her in front of me and said, “Fix this.”

Thursday? It was Thursday.

Thursday night football was on in an hour or so. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer. If I’d been in Charlotte, there’d be wrapped custom-made meals by the chef who came to my house every few days.

I ate whatever he made, but rarely did I ever drink a beer in season.

Now, it was all I wanted, and yes, I knew I wasn’t supposed to have one now, but who was around to tell me not to?

I stared at it, trying to figure out how to open it with my arm in a sling.

Damn. I put down the bottle, cursing at it as I fell into the chair at the counter.

I could make some dinner, and the evening was warm enough to have a beer on the back porch—if I could open the damn thing.

Well, now…that sounded like a plan.

Warming up a piece of lasagna from the dish Maeve sent over, I brought my feast out on the back porch, closing the slider behind me with a bit more power than I meant to. Kelcie’s kitchen light was on, and there were sounds of movement, probably from her making dinner.

As I situated myself at my table and dug into my homemade lasagna—still staring at my beer, willing it to open on its own—I imagined Kelcie pacing back and forth in her kitchen.

Thinking of her there, talking and pacing, brought a kind of comfort and familiarity I’d missed.

Being so close to her felt more like home than my penthouse with chef-created meals overlooking downtown Charlotte ever could.

I shoveled in another bite of lasagna and glared at the bottle of still-closed beer with the condensation dripping down the sides like tears from not being opened.

If I asked Kelcie, she’d yell at me and confiscate the beer.

It was relaxing to be back in town, with my friends—the people who knew me best. Being around Kelcie, though…it was still not…right. It was nice. It was surface.

While we weren’t strangers, we still weren’t us .

We were nice neighbors; the type you’d shovel the sidewalk for or maybe even give Christmas cookies to. But we weren’t us yet.

For the most part, we’d waved good morning or thrown out an occasional, “How are things going?” She’d asked me if I needed anything as she walked out to her car with Aaron, and I’d replied, “I’m good.

Have a good day,” while drinking my morning coffee.

So friendly and so…surface. She’d check in on me when she got home and offer me whatever they were having for dinner.

We’d talk about what level of activity I could engage in and what lingering symptoms I would still admit to experiencing.

There hadn’t been any inside jokes, no snarky comments about my hairstyle, or texts to check in with each other.

We didn’t have that smooth, effortless friendship that felt like an extension of our personality—the foundation of our identity.

The kind of friendship that was so deeply ingrained I never remembered not having it.

It wasn’t anything I could complain about. Change happened. People had their own paths to take. This was just weird and, well, unsettling because this surface shit wasn’t us.

I finished the lasagna, and Kelcie’s form disappeared before I found the balls to knock on her door and ask her to open my beer, so I walked my sorry ass, my empty plate, and my pathetic, weepy beer inside.

I wanted us back. I wanted that friendship back, the ease of the ebb and flow that we had. I wanted her to give me shit about my hair, the way I ordered my food (everything on the side), and I wanted to share our inside jokes that no one else could ever understand.

I wanted to be able to go ask her to open my goddamn beer and not feel like I was intruding. I even wanted to argue with her about the fact that one beer wasn’t going to damage my brain more than it already was.

I put the bottle in the fridge, pulled out a can of soda, and promised myself to only buy canned beer until I recovered. I’d become a pro at opening cans one-handed.

I walked back onto the screened porch and settled with a groan on a chair, crossing my ankles comfortably over the ottoman before flipping on the TV Dylan had helped set up.

I was ready to be on the other side of football for the evening and trying not to think about it being a permanent arrangement.

About halfway through the first quarter, her back door opened and closed. Aaron was on his porch, watching the game over my shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. What’cha doing?” I sat up and turned around to face him.

“Mom is talking to Dad. She didn’t want me to listen, but it’s hard not to.”

Damn. She’d mentioned his sensitive hearing.

“You want to come over here?” I stood and walked over to my porch door, unlatching it as he scrambled down his steps and into my yard.

Without further words, he settled into the chair next to mine, and we resumed watching the game. He sat on the edge of his seat, studying the plays.

“Do you want a drink or something?”

He shook his head.

“Did you tell your mom you were coming over here?”

He shook his head again, his focus completely on the game.

I pulled out my phone and shot Kelcie a text.

Me

Aaron is over here on the back porch, watching the game with me.

I enjoyed watching football with my new companion, who only spoke to the television, giving play-by-play commentary and analysis for himself.

When I tried to interject and ask questions or give opinions, I was given quick monosyllabic answers to satisfy the social necessity, and then, he returned to his own world of commentating.

So, I just listened and learned.

At half-time, I gave in and went to check on her. And yes, I was curious as to why “talking with his dad” had made him leave the house.

I knocked on the back door, but there was no answer. I knocked again, this time opening it and announcing myself. “Kelcie…it’s Shaw.”

“I’m downstairs. Is Aaron okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Watching the game.”

“Okay, great. Thank you for letting him hang out.” Her voice was strained, and there was a pause. “Let me just change this load of laundry, and I’ll come nudge him home.”

“No rush. I just wanted to let you know where he was. He’s welcome to stay and watch the whole game.” I walked farther into the house—the layout a mirror opposite of my own—and I looked down the stairs to the basement to see if I could find her.

I spotted her pacing from one room to another, folding and refolding a towel. “No, no…he needs to get to bed.”

“Kelce, is everything okay?” I said from the top of the stairs.

She froze, realizing how far into the house I’d come and not being happy about it. She tried not to scowl at me then ducked her head and walked into the laundry room, wiping her eyes with one hand and waving me off with the other. “Fine.”

I slowly descended the stairs as if walking into a lion’s den—or, in this case, a lioness’s den, which was likely more feral. “Aaron said you were on the phone with James.” I turned the corner into the doorway of the laundry room, wishing for a shield to protect myself. “Is everything okay?”

A sigh that was a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation was meant to cover up her true emotion, and it came out of her as she closed her eyes. “Damn.”

“Kelce—”

“It’s fine. It’s just hard to have a conversation about your son when he is smart, has supersonic hearing, and knows when he’s being discussed.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets to stop myself from cracking my knuckles. “Can I do anything?”

“It’s fine.” She resumed pulling clothes out of the dryer and haphazardly folding them. “I was trying to make arrangements for this weekend’s visit.” She began shoving clothes into the basket without folding them. “Or was trying to.”

I leaned against the doorway on my good shoulder and attempted to cross my arms.

“What happened?”

Kelcie’s lips thinned as they did when she was willing her mouth to stay shut.

“Kelcie—”

She shoved the remaining clothes in the basket, slammed the dryer door, and stood.

“He missed the last two weekends because of ‘work,’” she said, using air quotes.

“He doesn’t work weekends. But he said he couldn’t get off work early enough on Friday to beat traffic up here, and heaven forbid he wastes time in traffic.

” She picked up the basket so fast I thought it would go flying.

“He didn’t think it was worth bringing Aaron down for one night on Saturday just to drive him back Sunday morning.

” She rubbed her hand over her face. “Not worth it… He lives forty-five minutes away, and you’d think I was asking him to travel halfway across the mid-Atlantic. ”

“But—”

She held up her hand. “That’s not the problem. The problem is he is punishing me for moving up here, and he’s making a point. That’s the first issue.”

I remained quiet. I understood my Kelcie well enough to know when she needed to get it out.

“The second issue is…” Her voice began to break, and her lip began to quiver. She ran her hand over her face again and walked by me into the den that was furnished with a desk and a small sofa. But instead of sitting, she began to pace. I didn’t move and stayed in the doorway of the laundry room.

This was familiar ground to me. She was sangry—a mixture of sad and angry.

She was hurting and furious that she was letting it get to her.

She didn’t feel in control and didn’t want to let go.

Sometimes, I’d stood back and let her blow.

Other times, I’d stepped in, held her, and let her get it out with me there to help her.

Tonight, my instincts told me to stay back.

I stood still and let her pace, running her hand over her ponytail.

“What’s the other issue?” I asked softly, so quietly I wasn’t sure she could hear me. This was a third way I helped her—I poked the bear and ignited the fuse. Right now, I could tell that this was what she needed.

She stopped, and with the fury of Hades in her eyes, she said, “Because he doesn’t want to deal with him this weekend.”

I dropped my head so she didn’t see the fury building in my eyes.

“His girlfriend’s son has a double-header with his travel team. He wants to go to it on Saturday, and he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Aaron to attend.” Kelcie’s eyes were glassy as her words hitched.

“Why not?” I said, my eyes still fixed on the floor.

“He said Aaron would be bored, and it would be a long day for him. But really, it’s the crowds. He’s worried Aaron will get agitated and make a scene…” She let out a shaky breath. “And he doesn’t want to deal with it.”

“Aaron sometimes would disagree with the umpire’s calls and was vocal about it,” she continued. “He’d get stressed and have meltdowns. It’s the reason he can’t play team sports, even though he desperately wants to. Most of the time, he just gets overstimulated.”

So why would the man choose something that makes his kid uncomfortable? What an ass. “Okay, well, what about?—”

“Last weekend, Amber’s kids were with their grandparents so that they could have some time to themselves—'for once.’” She used air quotes. “The weekend before that, it was another excuse.”

I drew in a deep breath and looked away, reining in my true thoughts.

“Yes, that’s the man I was married to—one that is embarrassed by his son.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” I shook my head. I was going to say I wanted to stomp on his face.

She shook her head and froze. She lost all color, and a look of horror crossed her face.

I turned to find the cause.

Aaron was on the stairs, staring at both of us.