Page 1 of Falling for the Quarterback
Chapter One
Kinsley
WhatamIdoinghere? Me, in a God-forsaken hardware store. Surely, I can figure out how to hang my own shade cloth over my garden. I’m thinking some screw thingies with hooks on them, the type you can hang flowers from on a post in each corner, should do it. I have a feeling finding the screw-hook-thingies here, and then reaching everything on the ladder at home, is going to be the most difficult part.
It’s rough out here being independent, but after a long marriage full of toxic narcissism and always being at someone’s beck and call, I was done. I chose a simple life, living within my means to get away from it all. Bought a small piece of land. By small, I mean less than half an acre, along with an RV to live in year-round, and a privacy fence. It was all I could afford, my little piece of heaven that’s fully paid for. Lord knows my ex-husband wasn’t going to give me anything, even after I devoted so many years of my life and time to the miserable asshat.
Now, here I am, trying to grow my own food, live a stress-free life, and learn to do everything outdoorsy by myself. That part isn’t fun, but it’s better than the alternative. I’m an author, so while I don’t make much money, as long as I live simply and nothing major breaks, I’ll be finewhere I’m at.
God, that thought brings so much peace to my soul. Knowing I can actually be happy, and at the same time, support myself in the process…It’s all a new feeling that I’m embracing completely.
Gone are the long nights where he’d come into the bedroom looking for a fight before he ever laid down. It was always the same thing: wash, rinse, repeat. He’d start in on me about not wanting to have sex enough, and I’d clam up. I couldn’t give him any constructive communication because he’d shut down, telling me I’m right and I’ve won once again. The man was too stupid to realize no one wins in an argument in marriage. Unless there’s open, accepting communication, with a plan to implement the proposed change to work toward, together, then you both lose. I’d stay quiet, hoping to ride out the brunt of the argument, but in the end, I’d be sobbing for half the night, agreeing to magically change when there was nothing about me needing changed.
It was him.
I know, you’re shaking your head thinking I’m blaming the other person, but when they’re a spoiled toddler who can’t accept the fact sex is painful for you and that you’ve tried doing whatever you could for years just so he would be pleased and that popping a new pill won’t magically cure me, it’s hard for me to be sympathetic to his cause. Making me have sex when it hurts and there is no pleasure for me, just a boring ten minutes while I silently go over my grocery list. Or the fact my love language had been ignored for the entire marriage, but I was expected to continue giving one hundred and fifty percent of myself while getting shit in return…
Yeah, clearly my libido was the real culprit and not his track record of years-long of being a shitty husband.
I never should’ve put up with all the disrespect and thoughtlessness I did for so long. I kept telling myself I was doing it for my kids, but in the end, they had to see or sense some of my resentment and anger building. How their father failed at paying trueattention to his wife, how he constantly demanded, and took, took, took, from her, never giving back. I should’ve left a long time ago and been happy. It may’ve affected my kids at first, but at least they wouldn’t have grown up with a mom who was waking up and contemplating suicide daily by the end of the marriage. I don’t speak on suicide lightly either; there truly were many days I woke up wishing I would go to sleep and never wake up again. It’s a hard truth, but it’s mine.
With a heavy sigh, I release the miserable memories and bring myself back to the present. My fingers tap against my thigh as my eyes scan over all the different screws, washers, and every other piece of hanging equipment the big orange store sells. It’s overwhelming, not going to lie, when you have no idea what you’re doing.
Just winging it.
Being that woman who forges her own path. Am I in my ‘fuck men’ era? Nah. Just in the ‘fuck assholes’ era. Yep, I went there. One thing being this age has done is open my eyes to other people’s bullshit. I no longer want to deal with it, and I can spot it coming from a mile away.
Don’t like being called out on red flag behavior? Well, stay the fuck away from me then. My truth is not for the faint of heart, and I’m done sugar coating shit.
You guessed it, I’m on the cusp of menopause. I’m walking the tightrope of constantly wondering if I’m being overly emotional or if I should just blow some shit up so I release a little anger and feel better. And don’t get me started on the whole new vibrant sex/life talk. It’s hard to think of wanting sex at all when you’ve been married to a selfish man for so long.
Sex? Fuck sex.
It’s pretty much where I’m at right now on the entire subject. Do I get lonely? All the time. In the same aspect, I need my alonetime to be able to breathe. I’ve heard gardening should help me sort my feelings out. However, so far, all it’s been doing is making my ass sweat from being out in this Texas heat while trying to keep the little green babies alive. I keep telling them I’m struggling too, but so far, they haven’t given me any leeway. Fuckers.
The next noisy exhale I release is something between a sigh and a ‘Lord give me strength and help a sister out’ noise. It was much louder than I was anticipating, and suddenly I’m clued in to the ten other people in the same screw aisle, who all choose this moment to glance at me. My lips turn down, hopefully putting off the silent vibe: I’m bored and don’t need any help, rather than I’m lost and have no freaking idea if I’m even in the right aisle.
I turn to the side, partially blocking their stares with my shoulder. I’m silently trying really freaking hard to project‘Stay away from me,’at all ten males, cause let’s face it, I’m not trying to get sexually assaulted by a perv. Me being here alone, there’s a real chance of that happening. I should’ve brought one of my dogs to make them think twice.
I have Dobermans, and they are the best thing in life as far as I’m concerned. Loyal. Smart. Protective. Don’t bark too much, unless they have something to say. Velcro, yet somehow, I can still breathe and love having their presence in mine. If only they made ‘Doberman’ type of men, maybe living with one would be easier.
Another sketchy-looking dude flicks his gaze my way, and it’s enough to get me ready to bolt. Haha, see what I did there? Bolt and I’m in the nuts-and-bolts aisle. Regular comedian hour over here as a hot flash hits me out of nowhere, feeling like I’m standing in the middle of hell. I’m unable to move while I ride the wave of red cheeks, sweety pits, and a burst of sudden anger abruptly fills me, so I shoot him a look that silently conveys I will rip him a second asshole should he get too close to me. That’s the thing about this time of life, you instantly feel like you’re invincible, but then later everything hurts, even your hair.
I swear my face is so hot right now, I could pass out. I can’t help but think to myself that it’s the last thing I need right now.
Please don’t pass out for the creepers.
I’m busy glaring, praying my sudden bout of sweat magically disappears when my view is unexpectedly blocked by an enormous presence. My eyes shoot to him, taking his frame in, inch by inch. I’m ready to prove I’m small but mighty, when my gaze stalls, heart stuttering a bit at the gorgeous giant beside me.
Ho-ly fuck balls.
Where does this guy get off, being so goddamn juicy to stare at, when I’m over here ready to melt, wanting the floor to suddenly swallow me up. He clears his throat, and I can’t help but lick my lips at the way his throat moves. This is ridiculous. Rather than act affected by this tall drink of icy, delicious Dr. Pepper beside me, I raise my brow. With my hand on my hip, I ignore him and turn my attention back to the wall in front of me, just as he reaches forward and grabs the screw-hook-thingies I’ve been looking for.
“Well, shit,” I mutter.
“Hopefully not literally,” he mutters beside me, with a voice sounding like gravel and all mountain man or whatever sort of magic he is. Except there aren’t a ton of mountains super close by, so who knows where this mystical creature came from.
“Uh, what?”
