Fool Me Twice by Lizzie Morton
Seventeen
Becket
Laying back on the bed, I let out a groan of satisfaction. “Damn that feels good.”
“I thought we discussed this before. You can’t speak to the physios like that,” Brad scolds.
“This isn’t a physio though. And he doesn’t mind, do you, Doc?”
I wiggle my eyebrows at Doctor Greenman and he laughs in return. He’s been the Jaguars’ team doctor for years and loves to think he’s a part of the gang and in on the jokes.
He smiles and says, “I’d be saying the same thing if I got a cast off after six weeks.”
“Six. Weeks.” I let out another groan.
“You’re a lucky man,” says Brad. “These injuries normally take months to recover from. Does Britney have magical powers or something?”
“I hope you’re going to be more careful in the future,” says Greenman, sternly. “You might not be so lucky next time, and this is nothing short of a sporting miracle. Please remember before you go trying to skip out of here that you’re not out of the woods yet.”
“Yeah, no getting distracted …” Brad rolls his eyes, he thinks it happened because of Brit.
Nobody knows the real reason for the accident.
Ignoring Brad’s underhand comment, I look at Greenman and ask, “When do you think I will be able to play again?”
“It will be months yet. You’re going to have to build your strength back up and make sure the muscle repairs fully so there isn’t the risk of another tear.” When I frown he adds, “You should be thankful I’m not saying years.”
Trying not to show the disappointment I’m feeling, I nod. “I am.”
He gathers his notes and forms together and looks between the two of us. Before leaving the room, he says, “I have some paperwork to fill out, but I will see you in a week to check on how you’re doing.”
Brad looks at me hopefully when he’s gone. “Celebration time?”
“You read my mind.”
***
I look out the window of the cab skeptically at the bar only a few people know the significance of. It’s the same bar Britney and I went to after our flight from New York, where the last thing I remember is kissing her in the restrooms before blacking out.
“Why are we here?” I ask, as Brad wheels me through the doors.
Any possibility of an answer flies out the window, when my eyes land on the tables filled with my teammates.
“Becket! Becket! Becket!” They all begin chanting, slamming their hands and drinks on the tables.
“Surprise!” says Brad. “They demanded to come when I told them what we were up to.”
“I said why are we here, not they.”
He shrugs. “I heard it was a good place to drink that’s all.”
I don’t get a chance to push it further. He wheels me to one of the tables, quickly putting an end to the conversation. One of the guys takes a drink order and I watch as he walks to the bar. Everything looks and feels the same. The dark oak of the bar. The neon signs flashing on the walls. The smell of beer and liquor. Even the music sounds familiar. It brings all the memories of that night to the forefront of my mind.
This is why he brought me.
“It hasn’t changed,” I say.
“I’m surprised you remember … being drugged and all.”
The drinks arrive and it’s clear the guys are taking advantage of the opportunity to celebrate, with the quantity set down on the table. We each hold up a shot of Tequila and toast to my recovery. I wince at the burn, chasing it down with a drag on my beer.
When the team settles and the attention is no longer on me, I ask Brad again, “Why here?”
“Can’t we just come somewhere for a drink?” He’s being a prick on purpose.
“No, because this isn’t just somewhere. You know where we are.”
With a sigh he gives me the answer I already know, “I wanted you to remember that night—what she did to you.”
“This is pointless. I’ve already forgiven her.”
Brad groans and rubs a hand over his face. “So what? You screw her and all is forgiven?”
“We haven’t slept together. I thought you liked her. You’ve been the one telling me to hear her out.”
He picks up his beer and takes a long drink. “I did, until she messed with your career. Again. She’s the reason you’re in this mess.”
“I’ve already told you. The accident wasn’t her fault. I was distracted.”
He looks confused. “By what?”
“I thought I saw someone from my past.”
The snippet of information is enough to make him settle and the scowl on his face disappears.
“For the record, I haven’t slept with her.”
He blinks. “Serious?”
“Serious.”
“Why not?”
“On my best behavior, remember?” I say, gesturing at my leg.
He narrows his eyes, wanting to pry some more.
I level him with a stare and ask, “What’s got up your ass anyway? Did Lola turn you down or something?” His face turns sour again, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. “Sorry, man.”
He looks down into his drink. “She’s hung up on someone else.” We both know who that someone is, but neither of us say it out loud. “I know I said to give her a chance, but I don’t get it. Why Britney?”
“What do you mean?”
“Even if she had her reasons, she still screwed you over. Do you really want to be with her? I’ve got your back, whoever you chose, I just think you could go for someone who doesn’t have as much drama following them around.”
“She’s sorry and that’s all that matters.”
“Whatever you say. Just remember, the past will always be there, lingering between you. You might be able to forgive, but it’s hard to forget.”
***
I blame the shots of Tequila for what I do when I return home.
Britney welcomed me at the door and with Brad’s help they managed to get me up to my room in one piece. I wait until I know Britney is asleep before I reach into my nightstand drawer and pull out the same phone I used to call Evan a few weeks ago. This time it isn’t him I need to speak to.
“Hey, baby.”
God, it’s good to hear her voice. “Hey, Mom,” I reply wearily, unable to hide the tiredness in my voice.
“How’s the leg holding up?”
Of course she knows about it. Just because we can’t speak, doesn’t mean she can’t keep tabs on my career. The same career we all made sacrifices for. “It hurts like hell, but I got my cast off today. Doctor Greenman thinks I’ll make a full recovery.” Even saying it out loud it doesn’t feel true. I’m a lucky son of a bitch.
“And football?”
“It could be a few months, but hopefully I’ll be back on the field in time for next season.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you,” She couldn’t sound less happy if she tried.
“You’ll never win an Oscar for that one, Mom. What’s wrong?”
I hear her sigh. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being silly, but would it be such a bad thing if you couldn’t go back to football? Think of all the new things you could do with your life …”
“I don’t want to do anything else, Mom.”
“Football has a shelf life, and so does starting a family. It’s the most important thing you could want.”
“Football?”
“A family,” she says, her voice stern.
“Forgive me for not thinking it’s the be all and end all,” I grumble back.
“Don’t,” she scolds.
I picture the stern expression on her face, the way her eyes crinkle when she’s angry, that’s if she still looks the same. It’s been years since I last saw her and a lot’s changed, including me. “What did you expect me to say?”
“Exactly that, but don’t let the past taint your views or change your expectations. Don’t let it hold you back from being with someone you love and starting a life with them. You could have your happily ever after.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t dismiss me. I’m still your mother. Now what’s the real reason you’ve called?”
“I’ve met someone …”
“I knew it.” I can tell she’s beaming, by the way her voice lightens. It comes out like a song.
“Are you keeping tabs on me?”
“Let’s just call it a mother’s intuition. Now, tell me about her.” I hear a ruffle as she settles down to get comfy. She’s in this for the long haul.
“It’s complicated,” I huff.
“Love always is. Tell me more.”
“I never mentioned the word love.”
“If you’re mentioning her, she must be important. It’s an easy conclusion to come to. The fact you reacted so quickly tells me what I need to know.”
“Remember that media scandal a while back?”
“Yes …” she replies, hesitantly.
“She was the one responsible.”
I frown thinking back on my night with Brad, then all the things Britney told me. I’m at odds with myself. My head is telling me to be cautious but the beating organ in my chest, the one that runs the show, has other ideas.
A few seconds pass before she replies, “We don’t always get to choose who we fall in love with. Love—when it’s real—is all consuming. It’s messy and sometimes it hurts. And that’s the point. Nothing worth fighting for ever comes easy, and the most beautiful things can be found in the most unexpected places.”
I’m about to speak when I hear her snuffle. Damn it she’s crying. “Mom?”
“Don’t let my mistakes ruin you. Don’t let them hold you back and stop you from letting someone in. I am not the example you should be following, and I could never forgive myself if I thought for a second that I was the reason you were holding back.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mom. You didn’t know.”
“Yes, and I’ve come to terms with it. I hope the same can be said for you. Give yourself a chance to love and feel how good it feels to be loved back. Really loved. Not like Abby.”
I chuckle. “You just had to drop that one in there didn’t you?”
“She was never the one for you. I could always tell by your voice when you spoke about her. You deserve to be happy. Just remember, there will come a day when you won’t be able to find it running around a field with a ball.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“No, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For never holding it against me that I brought that monster into our lives.”
We hang up shortly after that. It’s late and we’re both tired. I don’t know when I’ll get to speak to her again, but I know her words will stay with me for a long time. She knows me better than I know myself, even despite the time and distance between us.
It’s time to start taking down those walls I built to keep everything and everyone out. They’ve done a good job, too good of a job. I meant it when I told Britney on the bathroom floor that without football I have nothing. But now I do. I have her.
