Page 35 of Returning Your Love
Kathy “Babs” O’Neill was Chief Sutton’s secretary and dispatch down at our small police station. She’d been playing that role for as far back as I could remember. A kind, olderwoman who had a spine of steel, she didn’t take any nonsense from townsfolk or the officers, and treated everyone like family.
“Think Jamie’s about to shit his pants?” Her question made me laugh.
“I was wondering the same thing. I would be in his shoes.”
Babs glanced over at Shelly before dismissing her as thoroughly as I had. “He’s a good man, just like his dad.”
“One of the best,” I admitted quietly.
She patted my knee. “You’re lucky to have him as a friend, Chaz. I hope you’re aware of that.”
I swallowed hard. “I am, ma’am. Yes.”
“Don’t ma’am me,” she fake grumbled. “Makes me feel like an old woman.”
“You’re far from old.”
“In spirit, maybe,” she argued.
The music cut off, a high-pitched squeal over the speakers—also tradition—sounded the time had come, and heart racing, I turned my focus toward the banner and cheerleaders waving their pompoms.
A loud yet muffled voice got the crowd amped up, welcoming everyone to Pippen Creek Stadium. The opposing team came running onto the field with the announcement they would attempt to beat the Pippen Creek Bobcats.
We were small but mighty.
At least, that was the reasoning for the mascot in the seventies. Unfortunately, the name didn’t mean shit when it came to football. We hadn’t had a winning season in any sport since the early eighties, back when our parents had been kids.
This year’s captain, Kyle Danowski, barreled through the banner, fists pumping in the air, and a river of red and white flowed onto the field behind him. “In The Air Tonight,” by Phil Collins, attempted to drown out the roaring crowd through the tinny speakers.
The coaches followed, jogging rather than sprinting like their players.
Jamie kept his attention set forward, face filled with grim determination. A man on a mission, he didn’t fuck around but gathered the team on the sidelines directly in front of us, his focus solely on the jittery kids surrounding him.
Whatever he told them got lost in the crowd’s continued ruckus and the music.
After a short time of stretching out, the team took to the field, the coin toss having us kick off.
I tried to watch the game and get caught up in our defense killing the opposing team and offense actually pulling off a few first downs. More often than not, my gaze glued to Jamie on the sidelines, causing me to miss out on the action. The man looked good. Edible. Downright sexy as fuck. His wind-blown hair, wide shoulders covered by a Bobcat’s sweatshirt, khakis form-fitting enough his ass made my dick twitch. The memory of having that body pressed fully along mine while we rutted against each other sent searing heat over my skin to the point I sweated.
Shelly ignored me, screaming her head off at every play, good or bad. She didn’t understand the game even though she’d been a cheerleader when Jamie and I used to strive for wins on the same field. She’d been the cutest one in those short skirts, pompoms waving, fiery hair tamed and slicked back in a high ponytail.
The perfect cheerleader for the team’s quarterback. High school sweethearts, the couple crowned homecoming queen and king our senior year. Everything Shelly had hoped for.
An ache settled in my chest as I realized nothing about the woman sitting beside me affected me in the same way Jamie did. Never had.
Still, those had been the good old days when even though we’d said life was so tough, unbearable at times, shit had beeneasy compared to adulting. When the only strife was learning how to accept my best friend was straight and wouldn’t ever be mine. I’d thought it had been difficult settling for Shelly since I couldn’t have him.
Oh, how shit had changed.
Teeth gritted, I forced myself to stay put when I wanted to escape, but I couldn’t feign even a hint of excitement as those around me. My heart broke over and over whenever I glanced at Jamie. The what-ifs, all the regrets, piled up to bring back that F-350-inducing pain in my bones.
The game lasted what felt like ten hours, and the Bobcats bombed in the second half, walking away with a terrible loss. Thirty-one to three.
Gabby, Coach Dave’s niece, had gotten us on the scoreboard late in the second quarter, splitting the uprights like a pro. The crowd had gone wild, jumping up and stomping on the metal bleachers. I’d managed to stand and clap, my gaze glued to Jamie’s smiling face as he congratulated Gabby as she ran off the field. He’d held her helmet in his hands, face close as he said whatever a coach did when edifying their kids.
I’d never known such jealousy, a yearning to trade place if only for a few seconds with a teenage girl who had Jamie’s undivided attention.
He’d patted her shoulder, and she turned toward the players around her, quite a few headbutting helmets with her.
