Someone You Love by Kristen Granata
Charly
I’m lounging by the pool with my earbuds in when a huge cloud moves in front of the sun, casting a shadow over me.
“Seriously?” I pop open one eye, and gasp. “Bryce, shit. I’m going to get you a bell to put around your neck.”
He chuckles and hold out a tall glass of iced tea. “That’s no way to talk to your pool boy.”
I arch an eyebrow as I tug out the earbuds. “If you were my pool boy, you wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.”
“Are you telling me to take off my clothes?”
I lean back against the chair, and give him a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, I wouldn’t be mad about it if you were suddenly shirtless.”
He grins. “Should I fan you with a giant leaf, as well?”
“And don’t forget the grapes.”
“I brought you iced tea. That has to count for something.”
“Thank you.” I slide my sunglasses to the top of my head. “How’s it going up there? I haven’t seen much of you since we went canoeing last week.”
What I really want to say is, It feels like you’re avoiding me.
He glances at the patched-up hole in the side of the inn. “It’s coming along. Your room should be ready within the next week.”
Disappointment creeps into my gut.
Bryce frowns. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t ready in time for your arrival.”
“No, no. That’s not it.” I lift the glass to my lips, letting the cool tea slide down my throat. “To be honest, I was secretly happy when I found out something had happened to my room. I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in there with two beds.”
“Ah.” He lowers himself onto the foot of my chair, and pats Edward’s wiggling butt. “It’s another reminder your mother isn’t here with you.”
I nod.
“It gets easier.” His knee bounces as he stares down at the concrete. “I remember how difficult it was in the beginning. It’s like a bad dream that you never wake up from. But eventually, you get used to them not being there, and it becomes your new norm. But you’ll always miss them.”
I reach forward, and cover his hand with mine. “You’ve been through so much, Bryce. I admire your strength.”
“You’re strong too.” He lifts his eyes to mine, two black coals peering at me through his messy strands. “Charly, I—”
Edward barks as a booming voice shouts from the backyard entrance. “There he is, boys. Bryce motherfucking Holden.”
Three tall, muscular men strut across the backyard. My eyes bounce from one to the next, in awe of their sheer size. Diamonds sparkle around their necks and wrists, and their hair is styled to perfection.
Bryce smiles wide as he stands. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
The leanest one of the trio claps Bryce on the back first. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, man. Wanted to pop over and see how you’re doing.”
“Looks like he’s doing just fine to me.” A man wearing a cowboy hat and boots slides his sunglasses down his nose, and winks at me. “Hey there, darlin’.”
My cheeks burn, and I wrap the towel around my body. “Hi.”
“You’re creeping her out, dude.” The third man shakes his head, and his braids fall into his eyes. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. He doesn’t get out much.”
The cowboy slaps the back of his head. “Why do you always have to make me look bad in front of the ladies?”
“Don’t touch the hair, bro.”
Bryce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Charly, these buffoons are my friends.”
I hoist myself out of the lounge chair, and hold out my hand as I introduce myself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The lean one clasps my hand first, and flashes a megawatt-smile complete with dimples in each cheek. His blue eyes shine against his olive complexion and coffee-colored hair. “The pleasure is mine. I’m Anthony.”
“Anthony is our quarterback.” Bryce clears his throat. “Uh, the quarterback for the Patriots.”
Anthony still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Do you watch football, Charly?”
“What he really wants to know is if you’ve seen him play football.” The cowboy leans in, and takes my hand. “I’m Bentley.”
I smile. “I don’t mind football. And no, I haven’t seen you play.”
“What a shame.” Anthony winks. “I’m quite good.”
Bryce nudges him with his shoulder. “That’s enough.”
The man with the braids rolls his eyes. “I don’t know how this guy fits his head inside that tiny Porsche of his. It’s nice to meet you, Charly. I’m Watson. Don’t let this guy fool you: I’m the star of the team.”
“What position do you play?”
He licks his teeth, and lets his gaze travel down my body. “Any position you want me in, baby girl.”
Bryce’s face turns red, and I tilt my head back and laugh. “Guess I walked right into that one.”
“Why are you here?” Bryce asks.
“To visit you.” Anthony massages the back of Bryce’s neck. “You could act like you’re happy to see us.”
“I am happy.”
Bentley loops his thumbs through his belt loops. “Charly, have you ever seen this guy smile?”
I nod. “I have. Heard his laugh a couple times too.”
“Of course he’s smiling.” Anthony drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Any man would be a fool to not smile around a pretty woman like you.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of pretty women smiling for you.”
“Always room for one more.”
“I’m surprised there’s room for anything with your ego,” I say.
The trio bursts out with laughter, and so does Bryce. My skin warms at the raspy sound he so rarely lets out.
Watson jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Is Nana inside? Let’s go say hello.”
Bentley shoves him. “You just want her to feed you.”
“Go in. She’s there. I’ll meet you in a few.” Bryce hangs back while his friends head inside.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say.
Bryce shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry about all that. They’re good guys, but they can be crass.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see them, but ...”
“It just brings up the past.”
He nods. “Yeah. They’re still together, doing what they love, and I’m ... not.”
I smooth my hand down his forearm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here as a buffer.”
“Anthony is smitten with you.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t take much more than a pulse for him to be smitten.”
He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”
“The flashy pretty boy isn’t really my type anyway.”
Bryce arches an eyebrow. “And what is your type?”
I shrug as I back away. “I’ve been really digging the rugged lumberjack-type lately.”
His eyes widen and his lips part like he’s been stunned.
I smirk as I drop my towel onto the lounge chair, and dive into the deep end of the pool.
Bryce
“So, what’s going on between you and Charly?”
I glare at Watson across the table. “Nothing.”
He smirks as he leans back against his chair. “Your face says otherwise.”
Bentley tips back his beer. “She’s pretty.”
“She is.” Can’t deny that. “She’s only here for the summer.”
Anthony shrugs. “Sounds perfect.”
I toss my napkin at him. “Yeah, that would sound perfect to you.”
He chuckles. “So if you find her attractive, why not indulge?”
Bentley clicks his tongue. “What is she, a bowl of ice cream?”
“More like a hot, cheesy pizza.” Anthony closes his eyes. “With sweet chunks of pineapple and salty ham on top.”
Watson scrunches his nose. “You’re making shit weird, bro. Don’t make me lose my appetite.”
Nana surges through the kitchen door. “No one’s losing their appetite around here. You boys better eat up.”
“This brisket is delicious, as always, Nana.” Bentley pulls out her chair for her. “How’s your hip?”
“Good as new.” She lowers herself into the chair, and rests her cane against the edge of the table. “How’s football? What’s new? Any of you boys settle down yet?”
Charly enters the room, and we all watch her as she floats around the table. She’s wearing a powder-blue sundress that swishes when her hips move, putting me in a hypnotic trance.
“I’m still single as a Pringle.” Anthony pulls out the chair next to him, and beams up at Charly as she places a bowl of mashed potatoes in the center of the table. “How about you, Charly? Are you single?”
Her cheeks tinge a pretty pink. “Single as a Pringle, too.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m here then.”
She smirks, and scoops a heap of potatoes onto his plate. “Something tells me you leave a trail of broken hearts wherever you go.”
“Nah. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. The ladies know the deal before they get into my bed.”
Watson chokes out a laugh. “If only they knew how small your dick is before they get into bed with you.”
Bentley kicks Watson under the table. “Watch your mouth.”
Nana squeezes his wrist. “It’s fine, my boy. I grew up with three brothers. You don’t have to bite your tongue around me.”
Charly rounds the table, and slaps a spoonful of potatoes onto my plate. Her sweet scent of peaches and vanilla waft over to me, making me hungry in ways this dinner can’t satisfy.
I give her wrist a gentle tug. “Sit. Have dinner with us. We can serve ourselves.”
“I’ll sit once everyone has everything they need.” Her gaze sweeps over the room before landing back on me. “Twenty bucks says Nana smacks Anthony with her cane at least once before dinner is over.”
Happiness twists the corner of my mouth. I’m hit with the sudden urge to wrap my arm around her waist, and pull her onto my lap. Nuzzle against her neck, and breathe in deep. Play with the ends of her golden locks while she laughs with the boys. It’s the way Mom and Dad were together. They were always making each other laugh, always sneaking little kisses and touches while they moved around each other in the house. When I was younger, I didn’t think I’d have that because football took all my focus. Without it now though, I have the time to create that kind of life for myself if I want it—one full of happiness and love.
Charly’s eyes hold mine as I gaze into them, thinking about the future, and what it’d be like with someone like her by my side.
Could she see herself with me?
Am I someone she could give her heart to?
My thumb draws idle circles along her wrist that I still haven’t let go of, and her pulse beats a furious rhythm under my touch.
Watson clears his throat, and I’m snapped back to the present moment. It’s quiet, besides the sound of Edward’s deep snore in the corner of the room, and all eyes are on us.
Nana’s smirking like the cat who ate the canary.
Charly smooths the back of her dress as she takes the seat between me and Bentley.
Nana beams. “Charly is staying with us for the summer. It’s been wonderful having another woman around here.”
“Where are you from?” Bentley asks.
“Manhattan, born and raised.”
Groans sound around the table.
“You let a New Yorker into your home, Nana?” Watson shakes his head. “Traitor.”
Charly’s mouth falls open. “Hey!”
Nana laughs. “It’s not like you boys come to visit all that often. Besides, Charly is a lovely woman, so you keep your stereotypes to yourself.”
Charly clinks her glass against Nana’s. “Were you all playing on the same team when Bryce won the Super Bowl?”
“You’re damn right we were.” Watson lifts his beer bottle. “Dream team, baby.”
Anthony puffs out his chest. “I threw the winning pass to Bryce.”
Charly’s head turns to me. “You made the winning touchdown?”
“I did.”
Anthony leans in. “But I threw it.”
Charly shakes her head at me. “You’re so modest. You conveniently left that part out.”
“Don’t let his quiet brooding bullshit fool you,” says Watson. “Bryce was one of the best defensive linemen ever to play the game. He would’ve made it to the Hall of Fame if he kept playing.”
Nana watches me over the rim of her glasses.
Anthony leans his elbows on the table. “You’re in good shape, bro. You still training?”
“Not like I used to.”
“But you’re feeling good?” He gestures to my cane hooked on the back of my chair. “You still need that to walk?”
Still? I’ll always need it to walk. Instead I say, “I have my good days and bad days.”
Anthony sets down his beer. “What have you been doing with yourself to keep busy?”
“Working around the inn.”
“The storm last week blew a tree through one of our windows.” Nana chuckles. “That’s why Charly’s been shacked up with Bryce until the repairs are finished.”
Three heads jerk up to look at Charly.
“You’re staying with Bryce?” Watson asks. “In his house?”
Charly nods, pausing to take a sip of water. “In his spare bedroom. He’s been a very gracious host.”
Anthony smirks. “I’ll bet he has.”
She ignores his snide remark. “He took me canoeing last week.”
“You’re here by yourself?” Bentley asks.
“I originally planned this trip with my mother, but she passed before we got the chance to come.”
Bentley places his hand over his heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. Beatrice and Bryce have been helping me take my mind off of everything. I really love it here.”
“You should come down to Boston.” Anthony pins me with a look. “Maybe the big guy will come for a visit if you do.”
Watson wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Been a while, man. Everything has been long forgotten. You should come hang with the team. Show the rookies a thing or two.”
I take my time chewing, searching for an excuse as to why I can’t go back to Boston, one I haven’t given them thus far. But everyone at this table knows the real reason why I won’t go back to that place.
Including Charly. Her hand finds mine under the table, and she laces our fingers together, giving me a squeeze that tells me she’s here for me.
It’s been me against the world for so long—to no one’s fault but my own, I know this—yet this woman blows into my life, and suddenly I’m not alone. Not if I don’t want to be.
And I don’t think I want to be alone anymore.
That realization slams into me like a freight train. My throat constricts, making it harder to breathe. I release Charly’s hand, and push back my chair from the table as I make an abrupt exit to get to the kitchen.
Anthony waves his empty beer bottle. “Can you grab me another one while you’re in there?”
“Get up and get it yourself.” Watson smacks him in the back of his head. “What are you, a cripple?”
Bentley cuts him a glare. “Dude.”
Watson’s eyes dart to me. “Shit. I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have used that word.”
I duck my head as I barrel through the door. “It’s fine.”
I brace my palms on the cool countertop, and let my head hang down between my shoulders, squeezing my eyes shut. The kitchen has always calmed me. It’s filled with happy memories of the time I spent growing up with Pop, watching him work his magic, putting his heart and soul into every meal. It’s the only other thing I’ve been good at aside from football, and it keeps my hands busy.
The door creaks open, and the scent of peaches surrounds me. Charly steps behind me and slips her hands around my waist. She presses herself against my back, melting around me, and we both exhale in the quiet safety of the room.
“They just miss you, you know,” she says.
“I know.”
“And you miss the way things used to be when you were part of their group.”
“I do.”
“Remember what you told me earlier, about how loss gets easier with time, and it becomes our new norm?”
“Yeah.”
“You can create a new norm for yourself. You can still do something you love doing aside from football. It won’t be the same, but that’s okay. It’ll be a different chapter of your life.”
“This life here at the inn is my new norm.”
She whispers against my back. “This isn’t really living, Bryce.”
No, it’s not.
“Can I ask you something personal? I don’t want to upset you, but I want to make a point.”
I suck in a deep breath. “Sure.”
“Does your disability make you feel like less of a person? Do you feel like you’re not your best self because you need a cane to walk around?”
My stomach tenses. “No. Why do you ask?”
Is that how she sees me?
“Because you seem to think you’re nothing without football. If your disability doesn’t define you, then why should your career?” Her arms squeeze me tighter. “You’re whole without football. Your talent was only a piece of you. It’s still a piece of you, and it always will be. But there’s more to you than football. Much more.”
Tears prick my eyes. “My mom used to tell me that. After my team lost a game, or I made a shitty play. She’d say, Football is a career, not your entire life, and it won’t be here forever. You need to find the things that make your heart beat off the field.” I turn around to face Charly. “I didn’t understand what she meant until I lost football. And then, it felt like it was too late to find something else.”
She smooths her fingertips down my arm. “It’s never too late to start over. Just look at Nana, and everything she did with this inn. We can start over at any point. You just have to give yourself the chance.” She smiles, and repeats her mother’s words. “Live your life to the fullest.”
A lone tear rolls down my cheek, and I turn away. But Charly cups my face, bringing my eyes back to hers.
And I let her see me. Vulnerable and stripped bare.
I push a strand of hair behind her ear, and let my touch linger on her face, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone.
Her breath hitches, and her eyes flutter closed.
I dip my head, leaning dangerously close to her lips, craving the feel of them against my own.
Then the door swings open, and Anthony pokes his head through the opening. “Just checking on my beer.”
I glare at him, and he feigns an innocent smile.
We grab refills for everyone, but before Charly returns to the dining room, an idea sparks in my mind. “Let’s go camping this weekend.”
“Camping? Like, in the place where snakes live?”
“I’ll protect you from the snakes, and we can cross off some more items on your bucket list.”
“Okay.” She looks up at me from under her long lashes. “Let’s go on an adventure.”
After dinner, Nana and Charly shoo us out of the kitchen while they clean up. We head outside to the porch, and the guys fill me in on what’s new with the team.
I’ve never realized it before, but football is the only thing they talk about. Football used to be the only thing I talked about. Without it these past six years, I haven’t had much to say. And that’s pretty sad. This world is filled with so much—so much to do, so much to see, so much to experience—yet I’ve chosen to waste away here, sulking because I can’t play football.
Charly’s mother knew she was dying. She had every right to lie down and wallow in despair. Yet she didn’t let it stop her. She tried packing in as much as she could, and now so is her daughter. Despite everything Charly has been through, she’s a blinding beacon of hope. She’s pushing herself to keep going.
And here I am, the sad sack who’s still throwing a tantrum years later because I can’t play a professional sport.
“Do you ever think about the future?” My question halts the conversation.
Bentley cocks his head. “How far into the future are we talkin’?”
“Like life after football. After you retire.”
The trio exchanges glances, and Watson speaks first. “I think about it from time to time. Thought about it a lot after your accident.”
Anthony nods. “I think we all did. Your career ended in the blink of an eye, and it could happen to any one of us. Shit is scary as fuck to think about, so I try not to.”
“What would you do if you couldn’t play football?” I push back on the wicker rocking chair. “Where do you see yourself?”
It’s quiet while they consider it.
“I’d want to coach,” Watson says.
“Commentator,” comes from Anthony.
Bentley smiles, and tips his wide-brimmed hat. “I’d have a farm, and a smokin’ hot wife with at least five kids.”
Watson laughs. “That doesn’t count. You can have that now.”
Bentley shakes his head. “Not with this lifestyle. Sure, I could get married and have kids. But I’d be gone all the time. My life wouldn’t be devoted to my family. Football always comes first.”
“What’s with the questions, B?” Anthony lifts his legs onto the ottoman. “Are you still having a hard time because you can’t play?”
I watch as the wind rustles the leaves on the nearby tree. “I think I’m finally realizing that there’s more to life than football. Walking away from it was devastating, and I didn’t know who I was without it. Feels like I’ve been wasting a lot of time focusing on what I’ve lost, and not enough time looking ahead.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I can’t imagine not being able to play.” Watson gestures to my cane. “Using that thing just to get around.”
“That thing is what enables me to get around.”
“I just mean, of course you’ve been having a hard time with it. It’s natural to miss the person you used to be before you got injured.”
The person I used to be? “I’m still the same person, Wats.”
“But your body isn’t the same. You used to have a normal life, and now—”
“And now what?” My temper flares, but I try to shove it back down. “Now my life is shit because I need a cane to help me walk?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been depressed about all these years?” Anthony asks. “That you got hurt, and can’t move the way you used to?”
I scrub my hands over my face. “I’ve been upset because I can’t play football. And yes, that is due to my injury, and it sucks. My decision to get involved in a stupid bar fight is what ended my career. I did this to myself, and I’ve been coping with that. But I’m not upset because I have to rely on my cane to walk. I’m thankful to have it.”
Their eyes drop to the floor.
“You think I should be ashamed of using this?” I hold up the cane in front of them, forcing their eyes on it. “Life’s goal isn’t to be the prototypical able-bodied person with two legs, two arms, ten fingers, and ten toes. The goal is to live a full life, and that looks different for everyone. Someone who was born with spina bifida is no less of a human than an Olympic athlete. Someone who lost his leg in the war can feel as happy as someone with two legs. Our joy doesn’t have to depend on our level of mobility. Disabled people don’t need pity from people because we can’t move like them. We don’t need to be made to feel ashamed of our limitations. I am still whole with a cane. I was whole when I was in a wheelchair.” My breath catches in my throat. “And I’m whole without football. I’m realizing this a little late.”
Bentley pulls off his hat, and scratches the top of his head. “He’s right, you know. We’ve seen the toll this game takes on our bodies. Players get injured all the time. There’s no guarantee we’ll have careers like Peyton Manning. What happened to Bryce can happen to any one of us, on or off the field.”
Watson pushes to his feet. “I’m sorry for insinuating your life is inadequate because of your disability.” He sticks out his hand. “Thank you for opening up, and finally talking to us.”
I clasp his hand, and give it a firm shake. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”
“We’ve got your back, B.” Bentley leans forward and clamps his hand around ours. “Always have. We just didn’t know how to be there for you.”
Anthony joins us. “The fearsome foursome, remember?”
I grin. “Always.”