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Nita sucked on her teeth so hard Blue was afraid she’d swallow an incisor.
Tim Taylor popped up next to them. “The game’s starting. Let’s see if the Stars can finally pull one out.” He pointed toward the big-screen TV that the Barn Grill had added so everyone could follow the Stars on Sunday afternoons. “This time try to stop closing your eyes every time Dean takes the snap, Blue. You look like a sissy.”
“You mind your own business,” Nita shot back.
Blue sighed and dropped her head to Nita’s shoulder. She stayed like that for a while. Finally, she said, so only Nita could hear, “I can’t do this much longer.”
Nita patted her hand, brushed her cheek with a gnarled knuckle, then poked her in the ribs. “Sit up straight or you’ll get a hump.”
By October, Dean’s game had improved, but not his mood. The snippets of information he wormed out of Nita weren’t reassuring. Blue was still in Garrison, but no one knew for how long, and those brilliant, magical paintings of gypsy caravans and faraway places he’d seen in the photos Nita forwarded weren’t encouraging. The initial firestorm of publicity over Jack and Dean’s relationship had begun to die down. At least one member of his family attended every game, depending on their work and school schedules. Still, as much as he loved them all, the hole inside him kept growing larger. Every day Blue seemed to be slipping further away from him. A dozen times he picked up the phone to call her, but he always set it back down. Blue had his number, and she was the one with something to prove, not him. She had to do this on her own.
And then, on a rainy Monday morning at the end of October, he opened the Chicago Sun-Times, and all the blood drained from his head. A big color photograph showed him at Waterworks, his favorite dance club, with a model he’d dated last year. He had a beer bottle in one hand and the other wrapped tightly around her waist as they engaged in an intimate kiss.
Dean Robillard and his former girlfriend, model Ally Tree-bow, got cozy last week at Waterworks. Now that they’re back together, is the Stars’ quarterback finally ready to give up his title as Chicago’s most eligible bachelor?
Dean heard a roaring in his ears. This was exactly what Blue had been waiting for. He knocked over his morning coffee grabbing for the phone, all his resolutions to give her space forgotten. But Blue didn’t answer. He started leaving messages. Still no response. He called Nita. She subscribed to every Chicago paper, so he knew Blue would see the photo, but Nita didn’t answer, either. He was due at Stars headquarters in an hour for the required Monday-morning meeting. He jumped in his car and drove to O’Hare instead. On the way, he finally faced the truth about himself.
Blue wasn’t the only screwed-up person in this partnership. While she used her pugnacity to keep people at a distance, he used his amiability just as effectively. He’d said he didn’t trust her, but now that felt like a cop-out. He might be fearless on the football field, but he was a coward in real life. He always held back, so afraid of coming out a loser that he voluntarily put himself on the bench instead of playing the game to the end. He should have brought he
r to Chicago. Better to risk having it all fall apart than to cop out the way he had. It was long past time he grew up.
An ice storm in Tennessee canceled his original flight, and by the time he reached Nashville, it was late afternoon, cold and drizzly. He rented a car and took off for Garrison. On the way, he saw fallen tree limbs and utility trucks repairing downed power lines. Finally, he turned in to the muddy lane that led to the farm. Despite the bare trees, wet brown pastures, and his churning stomach, he felt as if he’d come home. When he saw the light shining through the living room windows, he drew his first clean breath since he’d opened the morning paper.
He left the car near the barn and made a dash through the rain for the side door. It was locked, and he had to let himself in with his key. “Blue?” He kicked off his wet shoes but kept his coat on as he moved into the chilly house.
No dirty dishes sat next to the sink, no cracker boxes lay open on the countertops. Everything was spotless. A chill trickled through him. The house felt hollow.
“Blue!” He headed toward the living room, but the light he’d seen through the windows came from a lamp plugged into a timer. “Blue!” He took the stairs two at a time, but even before he reached his bedroom, he knew what he’d see.
She was gone. Her clothes were missing from his closet. The dresser drawers where she’d stored her underwear and T-shirts were empty. A cake of soap, still in its wrapper, sat on the shelf in his unused shower, and the only toiletries in the medicine chest belonged to him. His legs felt heavy as he entered Jack’s old bedroom. Nita had mentioned that Blue worked in here to take advantage of the light coming through the corner windows, but not even a tube of paint remained.
He made his way back downstairs. In her haste to leave, she’d forgotten her sweatshirt, and she’d left a book in the living room, but even the cherry yogurt she always kept in the refrigerator had vanished. He ended up in the living room, staring at the flickering light of the television but seeing nothing. He’d thrown the dice and lost.
His cell rang. He hadn’t gotten around to taking off his coat, and he pulled the phone from his pocket. It was April, calling to check up on him, and as he heard the concern in her voice, he dropped his forehead into his hand.
“She’s not here, Mom,” he said unsteadily. “She ran.”
Eventually, he fell asleep on the couch with QVC droning in the background. He awakened late the next morning with a stiff neck and an acid stomach. The house was still cold, and rain pummeled the roof. He stumbled into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. It burned all the way down.
The rest of his life stretched in front of him. He dreaded the drive back to the airport. All those miles with nothing to do but count the missteps he’d made. The Stars were playing the Steelers on Sunday. He had film to study, a strategy to plan, and he didn’t care about any of it.
He forced himself into the shower, but he couldn’t summon the will to shave. His empty eyes stared back at him from the mirror. This summer he’d found his family, but now he’d lost his soul mate. He wrapped the towel around his waist and drifted blindly into the bedroom.
Blue sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed.
He faltered.
“Hey, you,” she said softly.
His knees went weak. It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. A few curls from that short, inky fracas brushed the corners of her grapesicle eyes. She wore a petite green wrap sweater and neatly fitted jeans that hugged her small hips. A pair of darker green ballet flats lay on the rug next to the bed. Instead of looking devastated, she seemed to be drinking him in, and her smile was almost shy. It hit him like a thunderbolt. After all the agony he’d put himself through, she hadn’t seen the photo! Maybe the ice storm had screwed up paper delivery. But then, why had she moved out?
“Did you let me know you were coming?” she said.
“I—uh—left a couple of messages.” About a dozen.
“I forgot my cell.” She regarded him searchingly.
He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Maybe never. “Where’s—where’s your stuff?”
