“Mom, I’m not gonna be able to fit into my jeans when I get home,” I complained mildly. She’d been practically force feeding me since I’d stepped in the door.
“Good. You’re too slim,” she chided.
There was no sense arguing, I’d learned that long ago. I slid off the mare, guiding her to the barn.
The sky had darkened overhead, signaling an approaching storm. Thunderstorms were common in the spring, and I welcomed the thought of a cozy evening in front of the fire. The mare pranced beside me, another sure sign a storm was moving in.
My dad helped me secure the horses before we ran toward the house as the first raindrops began to fall. My brother waved in parting before climbing into his truck, headed for the home he shared with Stephanie just down the road.
* * *
“You want to tell us what brought about the sudden trip home?” my father asked gently as we sat around the fire in the living room later that evening, the steady fall of rain and the occasional crack of thunder echoing outside the window. My parents were lounged on the couch, while I’d picked my favorite leather recliner to curl up in. Both of our family dogs were splayed out on the rug snoring.
My parents had left me to my thoughts up until now, but I didn’t doubt they were worried.
“The news broke about Brian in Denver,” I shared quietly. My parents shared a concerned glance while I continued. “I know logically that what happened isn’t my fault, but I still can’t help feel lingering shame about the whole thing. And having it all thrust into the spotlight and making my burden now Mason’s makes it all the more humiliating. We’re still so new; it feels like a lot really fast.”
“What happened to you was traumatic, Ellie,” my dad defended firmly. “Having all of that brought about so publicly wouldn’t be easy for anyone.”
“No,” I agreed quietly. “It’s not. It’s opening wounds that I’m still fighting to close. I had barely worked up the courage to share those details with Mason, and now it’s all public knowledge. Some of what they’re saying isn’t even true,” I lamented.
“Don’t read that shit,” my dad grunted angrily.
“None of this is your fault, honey. And you can’t control what they print.” My mom spoke up in a much calmer tone. It was her way. My mother tended to be quiet and was often mistaken for shy, though she most certainly was not. She spoke when she had something to say. And it was always something worth listening to. “But you can control how you handle it. You’ve been a fighter your whole life, honey. You’re incredibly strong. Dating a man who’s in the public eye will come with all sorts of challenges, I’d imagine. You just have to decide if he’s worth it.”
My response was unequivocally firm. “I’ve never questioned that.”
“Then why do I have a feeling you’re wondering if he is?” my dad demanded gently, his point hitting home in the way it usually did. “Honey, gotta say, these feelings? They aren’t things you can work through alone. And something tells me that man might just be able to help you with that,” he surprised me by saying. “Now, I’m headed to bed. Likely to be an early morning, cleaning up after this storm,” he announced, rising from the couch as my mother did the same. “Love you, butterbean.” He dropped a kiss to my head.
“Love you too,” I replied to them both as my mom gave my hand a squeeze.
I sat staring out the window for a time before standing on stiff limbs and making my way upstairs.
My childhood room was the first door on the right and largely unchanged since I’d moved out. My horseback riding trophies still sat on the white dresser which I’d tastefully, or so I’d thought when I was twelve, decorated with purple flowers. Though my mom had replaced the mattress and the bedding, the same full-sized bed sat pushed up against the far wall.
Did you see the news?!
Lily’s text came in just as I was crawling into bed.
No, what?
I was wary as I waited for her response, which was a link to a video.
A second later I was staring at Mason, seated behind a table adorned with a Denver Broncos logo. Just his image alone made my heart pound. I hit play on the video, watching as he eyed the camera intently with a coolness he’d never looked at me with. He looked so handsome with his ball cap pulled low and his large hands clasped against the table. Those hands of his could make my body sing. He fielded several questions about his previous season and the one to come. Then came the question asking if “Ellie Mitchell’s past could impact his upcoming season?”
He noticeably bristled, his nostrils flaring.
“Let me be very clear,” he responded, his voice commanding, the tendons in his muscles pronounced as he tensed. “Ellie isn’t a fling, she’s not a distraction. She didn’t ask for the fame or the attention, but I hope like hell she’ll put up with it anyway. Any of you have a problem with that—you can deal with me. I’m asking that you give her the space and respect she deserves. As for the upcoming season being a good one, far as I’m concerned, all I need is a football and Ellie Mitchell.”
I stared at the video in muted shock for several moments after it was over. I was rendered speechless by his pronouncement.
Holy shit.I responded to Lily.
Right?! Holy hell El, that was one of the most romantic things I’ve ever seen. Marry the man, pronto!
I grinned at her enthusiasm.How about I start withcalling him?
Fine. For now.
