Hope for Us All: A Hope Series Christmas Novella Read online

  Jackson had been traded before. It could happen again. Neither of us had ties to Arizona, except for the fact it was the place we found each other again. I loved it here, but his hometown as our home base, with his parents and brother close by, was practical. Mr. Griffin, Jack's grandfather, lived an hour east of Orlando and would be overjoyed to have his grandson so close.

  "Rerouting, please stand by," my GPS said as I missed the turn into Rhonda Kelly's neighborhood. "Please make a U-turn at Sanders Avenue."

  A few weeks ago, Jackson decided the leader of the defense and the head of the offense, and their families should be friends. Ron Kelly was a twelve-year veteran of the NFL. He and Rhonda grew up together in Fort Meyers, Florida. Because of our husbands, we were supposed to be friends. Even though up to that point, Rhonda and her crew of player wives and girlfriends ignored me.

  I liked Ron. He played for the University of Florida, so we had that natural college rivalry thing to bond over. Rhonda, on the other hand, she was a negative person. Two minutes into dinner, conflict peppered each sentence she uttered.

  I don't know how you did it, but good for you for bagging a quarterback. Then she had leaned into me and whispered, Too bad he looks more like Tom Brady than Robert Griffin, III.

  Her compliments had that backhanded insult to them, and being around her made me forget my manners sometimes.

  Jackson and I met in college and had known each other for years. Once she had confirmed the information, she granted me access to the Player Wives/Serious Girlfriend Club, Arizona Cardinals Chapter.

  I made the U-turn and, minutes later, pulled up to a twelve-foot iron gate. It looked like something out of Game of Thrones. The center of the gate had a shield with swords sticking out of the sides. I pressed the call button, and someone picked up but didn't say anything. The phone beeped, and the gate opened.

  I drove in with my mouth hanging open. The place unfolded in front of my eyes like a cinematographer created the road to reveal the most appealing visual of an English countryside castle in Scottsdale, Arizona.

  I pulled into the circular driveway next to three other cars. I recognized Anna Meyer's car. Anna, my closest friend on the team, dated James Towson, Jackson's wide receiver. She had a year on me with this group. She found the stigma around player's wives and girlfriends silly.

  I walked up the marble cast steps and pressed the doorbell. It bellowed a moaning ring that grew louder as the black iron gate-like door opened.

  "Carrington." Rhonda squealed and pulled me in for a hug. "Oh girl, it's so good to see you."

  I hugged her with one arm while balancing the mini cupcakes in my other. The cupcakes were samples for our holiday charity/team Christmas party.

  For someone with an amazing body—a tall, thin frame with boobs in proportion and a flawless face—she had horrible fashion sense. She wore a gold catsuit with a black and brown fur mink vest. Her four-inch heels made her awkwardly tall. She had to bend at the knees to look me in the eye.

  She grabbed the cupcakes and handed them off to her assistant, Kia, who was always by her side. They used to be best friends, but Rhonda treated her more like a slave and less like an employee. They destroyed their friendship years ago. Anna said she threatens to quit every other month, and Rhonda raises her salary to get her to stay.

  I found it funny she had an assistant, but she didn't have a job. Her husband has his own team of people as well.

  I took in the rest of the place as Rhonda led me to the backyard patio. The house was equally as tacky as its owner's wardrobe, but even Rhonda couldn't mess up the view of Camelback Mountain. With the sun setting, it was breathtaking.

  I spotted Anna huddled under a blanket with a large cup of something warming her hands. It didn't get cold in Arizona, even in December, but at night, the weather was crisp. Rhonda had us sitting in two person lounge chairs around a circular fire pit.

  I air kissed the other six women.

  Sierra and Lacy, Rhonda's closest friends and minions, wore similar uniforms as our host but in more appropriate colors and fabrics. I didn't know them well.

  Brittany, who was married to Seth, the starting left tackle, wore a fitted black pantsuit with a red shirt and red heels. Her professional appearance was odd considering she stayed at home all day homeschooling her four kids who were all under the age of ten. Jasmin, the longtime girlfriend of Brady, the starting tight end, wore jeans and an off the shoulder sweater. She kept adjusting it and fidgeting.

  I enjoyed getting to know them. They both had been with their guys a long time but understood like I did that being a player's wife in Phoenix was vastly different than being a player’s wife in Los Angeles or New York.

  I doubted VH1 would make a reality show about us.

  Anna pulled back her blanket, and I slid in next to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  "You okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah, why?" I shrugged my shoulders.

  "I don't know. You look tired." She squeezed my leg.

  "Just a long day," I whispered.

  Rhonda clinked a spoon on the side of her champagne flute to get our attention. I looked at Anna, and she hid a giggle with the large cup in her hand.

  I leaned over and smelled it; coffee spiked with something.

  Kia squatted down next to me.

  "Ms. Butler, what would you like to drink?" she asked.

  "I'll have what Anna's having." I smiled. "Thank you."

  She didn't return the smile. She picked herself up and shuffled toward the house.

  "Kia," Rhonda said. Kia stopped but didn't turn around. "Bring me a refill, would ya."

  Kia gave a halfhearted wave and continued.

  "So I'd like to do a rundown of the night's program. Confirm any loose ends or questions. I am super pleased to announce we are way under budget, which means more money for the victims of domestic abuse," Rhonda said as she stared at me with a reassuring nod and smile.

  By definition, I was a victim or survivor of domestic violence. My ex-boyfriend, Jack's father, and Jackson’s best friend, only got violent with me once. In therapy, I had identified several occasions when his actions had threatened me. My therapist thought I should garner some encouragement in known his behavior was a pattern. The last incident wasn't a random act of crazy.

  Beating up your pregnant girlfriend because, in a drug and alcohol induced state, you thought your father told you to, seemed pretty random and crazy to me.

  According to Anna, the entire crew discussed my history thoroughly over an impromptu happy hour after our relationship became public. It was part of the reason I was allowed entry so soon. Short-term playthings and side chicks, not invited. It used to be only wives, but then so many of the couples weren't getting married but still living together or raising children together. They—whoever they were—made an exception.

  "Carrington?"

  "I'm sorry." I shook my head. "I missed that."

  All the ladies stared at me with concern.

  "Are all the contracts in order with the vendors?" Rhonda asked, speaking slower. "Any last-minute things we need to be aware of?"

  "No. It's all fine." I pulled a folder out of my purse and opened it. "There are some budget adjustments we can handle in the final reconciliation. A few of the vendors offered more discounts once they found out about Jackson's direct involvement. And the cupcakes …" Which Kia returned and placed on the table. "SimCakes will donate them for free if we put this on each table." I showed them the photo of a tower of mini cupcakes with an elegant Christmas themed banner in the center. On the sign, written in professional calligraphy, it read, SimCakes supports the Cardinals.

  "Oh, cute." Rhonda took the photo. "Just please get these type of things solidified sooner next time, okay?" Then she passed the photo on.

  I nodded. Anna elbowed me in the side. Never mind I saved the event four thousand dollars.

  Since the broadcasters announced our relationship during a game on national television, everyone treat
ed me differently. It wasn't good or bad. It took some getting used to, but if it meant more money for the charity, I wasn't above dropping my fiancé’s name.

  As for all the other attention, Rhonda could have it. I didn't want it.

  More important things were going on in the world than whether Ron Kelly's wife felt validated in life just because she was Ron Kelly's wife.

  When the meeting part of the night was over, the ladies tore up the cupcakes. The slight buzz, helped, too.

  Must be the Christmas spirit.

  As always, the discussion turned to our men.

  "So I overheard T talking to someone about playoff money. Did you know they get extra money for playing in the playoffs," Sierra said. Her husband was another defensive lineman. They’d met last year in Jamaica and instead of going back to her home in Oregon, she moved in with him, and they married the next off-season.

  "Yes, girl. Of course," Rhonda said waving her hands in the air.

  "Well, how much is it?" Sierra asked.

  They all turned to me.

  "Ladies"—I set my cup down and snatched the last cupcake—"you know I can't discuss anything related to the player's contracts with you."

  "Oh, so it's in the contract?" Lacy asked. Her brilliant blue eyes lit up from the light in the fire pit.

  "Hey, I have a novel idea." Anna set her mug down and huddled under the blanket. "Why don't you ask your husband?"

  They all giggled it off, but Anna's faced pinched, and she shook her head.

  I elbowed her side.

  "Maybe with James' playoff money, he'll finally buy you that rock you’ve been wanting," Sierra said while flashing her new ring in our direction.

  Anna leaned forward, but Rhonda spoke up. "Ladies, it's getting cold. Why don't we move inside?"

  Leave it to Rhonda to break up the craziness. She didn't want any Real Housewives moments playing out in her backyard.

  I looked at my phone; it was nine thirty.

  "I need to get home," I said.

  "Yeah, me too," Anna chimed in.

  Rhonda walked us to the door, gave each of us a quick hug, and herded us out the door. No doubt so she and the ladies could talk about us.

  I grabbed Anna's hand and walked her to her car.

  "Don't let them get to you," I said.

  "Oh, I know. I just hate it because, about this one thing, they are absolutely right." Anna blinked.

  "Anna,"—I pulled her in for a hug—"James loves you. He'll ask you. He's a man; he just needs to do things in his own time."

  "That's easy for you to say. Jackson wanted to marry you the day you met."

  I leaned back.

  "No, he didn't." My eyes narrowed as I remembered; I was the one who saw Jackson as husband material immediately. That was so long ago.

  "Yeah. I was talking to him about some place in Florida my girlfriend is looking at for her wedding. I asked him if you guys had picked a venue, and he said you were thinking about the steps of the library at FSU since that's where you two met."

  "He is so weird." I let out a nervous laugh.

  "He loves you." Anna hugged me again. "Even when you’re not around, he talks about you and his face lights up. Super cute and super annoying."

  I hugged her back.

  "I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but James does the same thing."

  "Maybe. We are young, and I know we have plenty of time, but I just feel some kind of security lies within the confines of marriage. You know what I mean?"

  I nodded because I did. I had no hang-ups or hesitations about being Jackson Mitchell’s wife. It was this unknown in the meantime that tore me up inside.

  Especially with Adams offer thrown into the mix.

  Chapter 4

  I pulled into the driveway twenty minutes later. Jackson's parked car made my stomach do a flip. I hopped out of the car and ran inside. I loved that feeling of seeing my man after a long day.

  I spotted his socked feet up on the coffee table, first. I entered the living room.

  He grinned as soon as he saw me. He put down his iPad and motioned for me.

  "There's my girl." I sat in his lap and soaked up the attention. He kissed my cheek and my shoulder, and then he placed a hand behind my neck and pulled my face around to kiss me on the lips. His mouth tasted like Asian food. I sucked on his lip and licked my own.

  "Yum." I grinned.

  "You hungry?" he asked.

  I nodded and kissed him again.

  "You want to go change, and I'll warm you up some Pad Thai."

  "You'd do that for me," I said, faking astonishment. Nothing sweet he did surprised me. He loved taking care of me.

  "I would do that for you, my love." He pushed me up off his lap, and I pulled him up behind me. He grabbed me, pulled me against him, and kissed me. A moan escaped from my throat, and all of the issues of the day disappeared. It was Jackson and me, the way it worked the best. He patted me on the ass and pushed me toward my room.

  "You want a glass of wine?" he asked.

  "No, I've had enough. Just some water," I called back.

  When I returned, Jackson was back on the couch; he had set a bowl of noodles and a wine glass of sparkling water on the coffee table. My favorite FSU blanket thrown over his lap. His face was back in his iPad watching film and making notes on a notepad balanced on the armrest.

  I slid under the rest of the blanket and grabbed my bowl of noodles while sliding my feet across his lap. I purposely nudged his manhood.

  "Hey." He grabbed my foot and grinned. "Careful. Eat your dinner."

  He massaged my foot and set the iPad down.

  "How was your day? How's Jack?" I asked.

  "Good and good. We went to hit some golf balls and grabbed him spaghetti and Thai for us on the way home."

  "Did he ask to try it again?" I slurped up a noodle and moaned.

  "He is convinced his allergies are almost gone," Jackson said.

  "He has another appointment with Dr. Hanover in February, so I'll let him test his theory."

  My son hadn't tasted a nut in his whole life. Being born premature, he suffered from asthma and severe allergies, but Jack was sure he would outgrow both.

  "I just hope he doesn't try it on his own. Like his little hooligan friend asking me what would happen if they injected themselves with his EpiPen." I shook my head.

  "What did you tell him?" Jackson squeezed my foot.

  "I told him he'd die." I raised my eyes.

  Jackson laughed. "Way to scare the kid, Car."

  I took another bite of the Pad Thai and sunk further into the couch, enjoying the warmth of the hot noodles and Jackson hands on me.

  "How was your day?" he asked.

  I stiffened.

  "That good, huh."

  I opened my mouth to tell him about Adam's offer, but something stopped me. I didn't want to deal with it right now. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, and I didn't want to stress Jackson out about it, either.

  "No, it wasn't bad; the girls at Rhonda's house were all excited. Apparently, they had no clue about playoff money." I rolled my eyes at the term.

  "What?"

  "Yeah, like they thought I would tell them how much they were getting. Anna's like why don't you ask your husbands." I shook my head. "It makes me wonder if any of them have conversations with their men."

  "You do have an unfair advantage. You wrote my contract. They figure why bother their husbands when they can go to the source," he said.

  "Have none of them heard of Attorney/Client privilege?" I asked.

  "Oh, no." Jackson gasped. "Someday, you will have to pick a side," he said in his best movie trailer voice.

  I laughed as I slurped my noodles and moaned. I wasn't sure if it was the scrumptious food or Jackson hand moving up my thigh, but I tingled all over.

  "I wish they wouldn't give Anna such a hard time. She's upset that James hasn't asked her, yet." I laid my head back.

  "I guess our quick engagement didn't help her
confidence," Jackson pouted, and he squeezed my leg.

  "She would never say, but I know it upset her. But she loves us. She was super sweet about it." I tapped Jackson's thigh with my foot. "Can't you move him along? Tell him you won't throw to him anymore until he does right by Anna."

  "Isn’t that a little unethical and sneaky?" Jackson asked with a raised eyebrow.

  "Maybe, but she deserves it." I ran my foot across his length. "She's been through so much, and she loves him."

  Jackson grimaced and grabbed my foot.

  "He'll do it," Jackson said with a smirk while staring at my legs, "sooner rather than later."

  "Jackson Mitchell, do you know something?" I set my noodles down and sat up.

  Jackson smiled but didn't share.

  I pouted and lay back down.

  "What about our wedding? Have we picked a date, a venue, a state to get married in?" he asked.

  I sighed loudly.

  "I'll take that as a no."

  I placed my feet back in his lap, but he ignored them and picked up his iPad.

  "I heard we were getting married on the steps of the library at FSU," I said.

  "You ladies talk too much." He chuckled.

  "It's a sweet idea."

  "But?"

  "This is going to sound awful, and don't get me wrong, I love our school …"

  Jackson put his iPad down and turned toward me.

  "But if I list the positives and negatives from my time at FSU …”

  “The negatives win.”

  “The negatives are depressing."

  "Baby, it's where we met," he said.

  "And where we broke up." I frowned.

  "Where we fell in love the first time," Jackson said with pure joy in his tone.

  "And where I broke our hearts." I blinked away tears as I set down my noodles again. I’d lost my appetite. I hated that the emotions of everything we had been through could be conjured up in seconds.

  "Hey," Jackson said and held out his hand. I grabbed it and crawled into his arms. "Maybe you're right. We need to come with up with some place new. Add to the stack of happy memories where the shit in the past will be nothing but a memory, like your favorite television show.”