Big Bad Baller: A Baby Older Brother’s Friend Romance

Now that Jesse’s home, he’s even more off limits than ever before…

MARY TAFT:

Jesse Valen – the star quarter back of the Jets - is coming home. I always wanted him so bad, but I knew he just thought of me as a kid. I used to love it when he’d let me rub down his muscles in the hot tub after practice. If it were now, I would rub my hands over more than just his biceps, and pecs, and abs, and way down…well you get the idea.

But I can only dream. I’m off limits, you see.

He’s my brother’s best friend… or at least he was until the accident.

JESSE VALEN:

Some things never change.

My home town looks the same and the girls still throw their panties at me just like when I was the high school football star.

And some things do.

Bill hates me now. I don’t blame him. Hell, I can hardly live with myself.

But what’s changed the most is Mary, Bill’s kid sister. Only she’s no kid no more. Yep. I’m gonna f*ck her as much as I can before I go back to New York.

But if I do, it’ll be just another reason for Bill to hate me even more...

***

 

Chapter 1

After a painful, long, and frustrating day, my waitressing shift ended. I stumbled home, relishing the sweet release of untying my apron and kicking off my scuffed and soup-stained no-slip shoes. My apartment was dark and lonesome when I arrived, but I knew better than to think it was empty.

“Hey, Bill!” I called as I walked in.

There was no answer, only the turning up of the volume on the television. I assumed that, as per usual, he did not want my voice to intrude on his video games. Sighing and wincing, I collapsed into a chair by the kitchen table, pulled out my phone, and began browsing. It was then that I noticed the heap of dishes piled in the sink.

“Goddamn it, Bill!” I called to him. “I thought I asked you to do the dishes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he hollered back and then spiked the volume again. I took a deep breath, rose from my seat, and washed them anyway. The soap was harsh on my blistered, tired hands, but I pushed through.

That was what I did, and I did it for my family.

Once I was done and finally able to rest, I joined my brother, Bill, in the living room and plopped down in the armchair beside him. He had his feet up, and his gaze hyper-focused on the TV screen as the controller in his hands dictated whom to decapitate next. Surrounding him like the court around a king’s throne, were the detritus of a long day spent on the couch. I ignored the candy wrappers and empty soda cans and reached for one of the many open bags of chips.

“How was your day?” I asked him, sneaking a small handful of goods into my mouth.

“Lousy,” he grumbled back, without taking his eyes off the TV screen. “Some asshole in freaking China or something is dominating the game, making it impossible for anyone else to win. Goddamn it!” He slammed the controller against his knee. Then, remembering to be polite, he asked, “How about yours?”

“Oh, it was all right,” I said, pulling out my phone and losing myself in its glowing addiction. “I made decent tips, though of course, Mr. Davis continues to hit on me.”

Mr. Davis was a lecherous—though harmless—old man, who owned the restaurant where I worked.

“You want me to beat him up for you?” Bill offered and, as per usual, I sighed. He had made that offer plenty of times before, and the answer was always the same.

“No, Bill. We need this job. Rent is due in a week, and my student loans are coming up. How about you? Any luck with the janitorial position?”

Bill reached down, seized a paper cup of soda, sucked its straw for a moment, and then released it with the same “pop” he used to say his words: “Nope! I’m sure the bloody idiot took one look at my record and turned me right down. You know how it is. No one wants to give me a chance.”

I exhaled and shook my head without even bothering to ask Bill if he had called to check the status of his application, or if his resume was free of cheese puff stains. I already knew the answers to both of those questions.

Feeling glum, I returned my attention to my cell phone and flipped through friends’ statuses and news of the day. I was not actually paying attention, I just enjoyed watching the zoom of colors and words flow past, filling up the empty, exhausted chamber of my mind. Just as I was about to click off my phone and pull out some of my homework, an article caught my eye.

Local Celebrity Returning Home!

Come to the Westcross train station tonight if you want to see THE Jesse Valen, star of the New York Jets, returning to our little town to visit family and friends!

Further down the article was a list of his prestigious awards and accomplishments, from his glory-filled college days at Notre Dame to his drafting by the Jets and his impressive stats in the professional league. A highlighted picture across from the words depicted his grinning, cocky face, confident brows, and shoulders so broad they looked like baby dolphins on either side of his V-shaped chest.

I breathed in and out, remembering the scent of him. He always smelled of football leather and freshly cut grass—the smells of sport and training.

Beneath that cheerful article, was a second and much less positive article linked. It read:

Unnamed New York Jets Team Member Face Accusations of Sexual Assault.

Who was involved? Why is it being covered up? Read on to find out more!

I read the headline and scowled. It couldn’t be Jesse, I was sure of it. He had been the most trustworthy guy I knew back in high school.

Except, of course, for what happened to my brother.

“Hey, Bill,” I said, interrupting his game. “Guess who’s going to be back in town? Your old friend, Jesse Valen.”

Bill paused his game and slowly turned his gaze to me. As far as I knew, there was very little that would break his concentration while playing, and I was surprised to see that Jesse’s name did the trick.

“Jesse Valen,” he said, “is no friend of mine.”

For some reason, his words stung me. “But in high school you guys used to—”

“I don’t care what we used to do. You know how I feel about that prick. Why would you bring him up?”

His voice grew louder, more menacing and he put his controller aside. A bad sign.

“I just thought that—”

“You thought wrong,” he growled. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and bothering me all the time? You know what happened. You know what I’ve been through, how hard…”

My brother’s outburst lit a match in my heart and, like gunpowder, I exploded.

“You have it hard?” I demanded, leaping to my feet. “I work twelve-hour freaking shifts to put food on the table, pay the rent and my tuition, while all you do is laze around doing nothing!”

My verbal assault was useless. It broke upon him like a stiff breeze on a stone wall. Bill bent, picked up his video game controller, and resumed playing his game.

“Then leave,” he grunted, simply and irrevocably.

It was this, of all things, that made me break into tears. I tried to hold them back so he wouldn’t see me cry, but I couldn’t do it. Eventually, he paused his game again and turned toward me.

“Look,” Bill said, his voice as hard and cold as stone, “no one’s keeping you here. You can go around feeling sorry for yourself, like I’m making you work so hard, but I’m not. You don’t like it? Then get the hell out of here.”

He didn’t yell. He intoned as if each word were a hammer blow upon nails that sank into my heart. Unable to contain myself, I fled to my room and dissolved into tears on my bed. My day had been so long—a twelve-hour shift long—and then I had to come home to this.

As I cried, I remembered my brother how he used to be. Smart. Confident. Strong. Unstoppable. With his whole future lined up ahead of him. Then, that fateful night happened.

For a moment, I wondered if we would have been better off had the cops shot him that night instead of just arresting him. My parents would have been devastated, of course, but considering that they died in a car crash two years later, they wouldn’t have suffered long anyways. As for me, I would be crying my eyes out right now, that was for sure.

However, things were as they were and, for the past five years, I had kept the promise I made to my mother’s grave and looked after Bill.

But now, it was killing me.

Half-ashamed and half-defiant, I pulled out my phone from my pocket and gazed at the little picture of Jesse Valen on the screen until I fell asleep. He was a man central to the whole mess my life had become and still, even though that tiny picture, his smile made me feel warm inside.

He was also a man who, for a little while anyway, just might come back into our lives.

Chapter 2

The next morning, thank God, was my one day off. I needed to use it to clean the house and go shopping. So, at eight in the morning, I threw my hair into a messy bun and began to scrub.

By eleven, I had done everything except vacuum, but that, unfortunately, would have to wait. Bill was still sleeping, and I knew very well how angry he would be if I woke him up—especially considering all the beer bottles I threw into the recycling bin. I left Bill a note requesting him to do it, but I knew better than to expect anything of it. For the sake of my parents and my promise, I’d just have to do it when I returned.

Still dressed in an old gray T-shirt and a pair of runner’s shorts, I clambered into our old 1999 Tercel and made my way to the shop. Since I generally ate at the restaurant, the food in the house was almost exclusively for Bill to eat or ignore. Despite my knowledge of my brother’s eating habits, I did my best to buy healthy snacks, rather than the crap he brought home on his rare ventures out of the house. I filled my cart with apples, grapes, celery sticks, and hoped they wouldn’t go bad and uneaten. I knew that the health-loving, muscle-flexing athlete that had once been my brother was still in there somewhere.

Please, please let him be in there somewhere.

After carefully choosing and paying for my groceries, I hauled the shopping cart out to my car and got busy unloading its contents into the trunk. After the first several bags, the heat and exhaustion started getting to me. I pressed my forehead against the hatch of my trunk and took several deep, steadying breaths. Finally calm and a little steadier, I groped behind me for my cart to continue unloading it, but my hand only met air.

“Oh, shit!” I cried and leaped back to see the darn thing trundling away from me, back down toward the parking lot. In horror, I watched as it careened not toward the bushes or some beat-up, piece-of-junk car, but toward a brand new, sapphire-blue Mustang convertible.

That’s when the injustice of life suddenly struck me.

Not caring that I was dressed like a hobo, I sprinted to catch up. My breasts bounced. My lungs heaved. But still, I could not catch it in time.

Smash! I winced as its heavy metal grate collided with the stunning new car. Glistening with sweat and embarrassment, I rushed to retrieve it and spurted apologies to the owner, who was sitting inside.

As the man got out, I was nervous and expecting that he’d yell, holler, call the cops, or even be super nice and condescending about it which would only make me feel worse. Instead, something even more terrible happened.

“Uh … hello, Jesse,” I stuttered. “Sorry about your car.

Jesse Valen, star quarterback of the Jets, long-time friend and then enemy of my brother, and eternal crush of my childhood rose out of that snazzy new convertible like the six-and-a-half-foot giant he was. He blinked at me for a moment, as if confused.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I stammered again. “I can pay… actually, I can’t. I can apologize for any damage. I didn’t realize my cart was getting away from me and…” I petered out beneath his unchanging, gable-browed gaze.

After at least thirty seconds, he exclaimed, “Mary? Mary Taft, is that you?”

Painfully conscious of my messy, lopsided bun and the film of sweat on my forehead, I mumbled an embarrassed, “Yes.”

“Holy cow!” he cried, scooping me up in a powerful embrace and twirling me around. “It’s great to see you. You look…wow, you look amazing.”

I sensed his eyes resting momentarily on my large bust, which was clearly outlined underneath my clingy gray T-shirt. This made part of me feel amazing while the other part felt tremendously ashamed.

“How’s your brother? I haven’t seen him in ages,” he continued, still gazing openly at me.

I winced at the mention of my brother.

“He’s well,” I lied. “You know how it is. He has a lot to be getting along with.”

“I bet, I bet,” he agreed.

As he leaned close to me, I detected the tiniest hint of alcohol coming off his breath. I looked past him and saw the O’Reilly’s Pub sign glowing next to the grocery store. Through the large window, I saw that the bartender was, at that very moment, cleaning several glasses of beer off his bar.

Suddenly, I felt a little less pathetic.

“I’m sorry about your car,” I said, glancing at where my cart had struck it. I grimaced as I saw two tiny scratches—really, they were no bigger than fingernail marks—marring its perfect paint.

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he replied, shrugging. “It’s a rental, and trust me, I can afford it.”

I bit my lip and wondered what he meant by that. Was he trying to make me feel bad about my and Bill’s abysmal financial state?

But then, I saw his smile and stopped worrying.

“So,” I started, “I saw the article in the newspaper. Congrats on making the whole town lose their marbles over your arrival. Did everybody show up to greet you when you got off the train?”

He chuckled. “Not everybody, but it was close. Mrs. Azelia was there, with a bunch of flowers and about five different cameras. Do you remember her? She used to come to all of my games with her face painted and that stupid cowbell?”

I laughed. “Yes,” I said. “Then she’d sing, ‘home, home on the range,’ whenever we won.”

“Yes, yes! Like: hoooome, home on the raaaannnnnnge!” he sang, doing an impressive—if slightly cruel—impression of the drunken, besotted woman.

I could not help but giggle. Soon, I found myself leaning against his car beside him until our shoulders nearly touched.

We stood there for quite a while, reminiscing about past games and exploits, my groceries totally forgotten for the moment. As we chatted, I found myself remembering the old days, before Bill’s arrest and when my parents were still alive.

We had a huge, amazing house with a yard, a hot tub, and everything. Jesse used to come over at least once a week, sometimes to play catch or video games with my brother, other times to bask in the hot tub, moaning about his sore, over-worked muscles. Once, after a particularly grueling practice, he had asked me to climb into the hot tub with him and give him a massage.

I had been chunky and weird in high school and naturally jumped at the opportunity when the hottest and most confident guy in school asked me to touch him. Wearing an ugly one-piece swimsuit, I climbed into the hot tub, and Jesse settled between my legs. I rubbed his shoulders, biceps, and back for at least an hour until my brother came over requesting a massage as well—obviously, I shot him down with a single look.

That had been my moment. My body had filled with pent-up, teenage desire, and when I finished the job and left the hot tub, I realized that the area between my legs was wet from more than just the chlorinated water.

Seized by a sudden daring, I brought that moment up in my conversation with Jesse. “Do you remember all the time you spent in our hot tub?” I asked. “My parents should have charged you rent.”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he commented. “That hot tub saved my muscles. As did your expert hands, of course. Do you remember all the great massages you gave me?”

Of course, I did. I remembered every dip and curve my hands had made against his skin. I remembered the way he would moan softly and lean back against me so that the tips of my breasts grazed his shoulders. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Yeah, a bit,” I said, hoping my cheeks wouldn’t blush.

Jesse seemed to sense my lie and inched a little bit closer to me. He must have known how much those moments meant to me. I had wanted to date him all through high school, but of course, he wouldn’t have anything to do with a drama-club dweeb like me. No, he was always too busy gallivanting with the cheerleaders and the dancers to care.

I was about to open my mouth and comment on how great it was that the old high-school prejudices had fallen away and we could now talk freely to each other when I remembered the fate of his cheerleading ex-girlfriend. She had been there the night Bill was arrested, alongside Jesse and few other friends. While Jesse and the others had come off clean, she and my brother had both been taken in.

That could have been me, I realized. If I had been dating Jesse at the time, I could have been the one sharing a police car with my brother. As I stood beside him now, I looked up and down that amazing body and thought, would it have been worth it?

Jesse’s next question shook me straight out of my reverie.

“You said your brother is doing well, but I was wondering…do you think he might be willing to see me? We didn’t exactly part on good terms, and I was hoping…I don’t know…that we could make things right somehow.”

Their parting was something I remembered as clearly as I remembered giving him those massages. It had been after the police station, the reporters and the trial. Bill had isolated himself from everyone, including us, but Jesse had begged my parents to let him enter the house and see my brother. With reluctance, they allowed and a screaming match, such as I had never witnessed before, ensued.

I was not in the room when it happened. I was upstairs with my face buried in my pillow, spilling silent tears, so their exact words were, to this day, murky to me. All I knew was that Bill’s voice had thundered with anger and hurt as he accused Jesse of terrible, terrible things. Jesse’s was filled with grief and regret as he begged for forgiveness.

As my eyes continued to assess Jesse in the parking lot, I wondered. Was he responsible for what had happened? Was my brother’s demolished future brought about by this man standing before me?

I looked for clues in his eyes.

Beneath the cocky grin and the rippling muscles, I saw sadness. I saw a pain almost as profound as my brother’s. Pain, perhaps, as deep as my own.

“So, Mary, what do you think?” Jesse interrupted my painful moment of reverie. “Could I come over and see your brother?”

I blinked and thought of the dark dinginess of our home, the gray floors, and my brother’s grayer socks I fought so hard to clean. I imagined my brother’s face, contorted with rage and humiliation, as Jesse Valen, glowing with success, walked into our sad and lonely apartment.

“No, Jesse,” I said. “I don’t think that would be wise. My brother is still pretty angry with you.”

Jesse sighed, sagging as if the thunderous might in his shoulders had suddenly vanished.

“Yeah, I would be, too,” he murmured.

My heart constricted at his tone, and I ached to open my mouth and ask him what had happened. Bill only spoke of it to lament the effect it had had on his scholarship and team. He refused, obstinately, even to mention Jesse and acted as if they had not known each other at all—had not gotten drunk off my father’s liquor, won and lost football games together, had their hearts broken, plotted silly vendettas that were never carried out. That whole past had been scoured away.

All of Bill’s past.

All of Bill’s future.

Sometimes I understood his wallowing despair, his inability to rise up from the sunken cushions of the couch.

Other times it just made me mad.

A reckless daring seized me. I am a woman now, I thought, not just some scared teenager. I pay rent. I support a household. I work two jobs, go to school, and contend with assholes all the time. I can handle talking to Jesse Valen.

Gulp.

“Let me make it up to you,” I said and looked at the pub beside the grocery store. “Why don’t we go to O’Reilly’s and I buy you a drink? For old time’s sake? It’s not too early, right?”

Jesse smiled sheepishly. We both knew he had already had a few, and his apparent need to lean his bodyweight on his beautiful blue convertible was further proof of the fact.

“Sure,” he said at last. “But what about your groceries?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t buy anything frozen, and it’s not a hot day. I think it’ll be okay for a half hour.”

“Hey, that’s all the time I need,” he exclaimed suggestively, making me blush and giggle. It was surprising, but also kind of nice that such an obviously manly man could make self-deprecating jokes like that.

Both scolding and commending myself for my bravery, I waited as Jesse Valen placed my stray groceries into my trunk and then followed him into the pub.

* * *

O’Reilly’s Pub was a lonely and sad place at noon. In the corner, a heavyset man with sad eyes and a newspaper picked at a bowl of soggy French fries, while a woman smoked a cigarette at the other corner of the room. Her frowned upon habit told me this was not the sort of place to be judgmental over ordering a drink this early in the day, and I felt myself relax a little.

Jesse sat and ordered a scotch on the rocks and then turned a questioning look on me.

“I’ll have same please,” I responded as I sat beside him.

After working the late Friday and Saturday shifts at a restaurant for so long, I had learned to drink whatever the bartender snuck my way. Since men like Jesse usually assumed girls didn’t like scotch, or couldn’t drink hard liquor on the rocks at all, I saw this as an opportunity to impress him with my skill.

Sensing my confidence, Jesse held up his glass, took a large sip, and, with barely a grimace, placed it back down on the table. Then, he gave me a challenging look.

Buddy, I thought, you try living with Bill for five years, and then we’ll talk drinking contests.

Matching his look with a cocked brow, I jokingly kept my pinky out as I picked up the glass. I held his gaze, batted my eyelashes, and sipped. Though it burned on the way down, I did not wince or make a face. Instead, I took a little bow and set down the glass with grace.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s impressive. You can drink like the best of ’em, can’t you?”

I blushed and sort of shrugged. Was that something to be proud of, really? Congratulations, you’ve pummeled your liver enough times that it can now take a punch.

Suddenly, Jesse’s demeanor changed. His impressed smile turned into a frown. “These five years have been hard on you, too, haven’t they?”

The answer was obvious, but I thought it would be ungracious to say so. Instead, I settled on taking another drink.

“Let’s talk about something else, okay?” I requested, glancing around for a new subject. I noticed a football game playing on the TV to my right. It was muted, but I could tell it was a Jets rerun. “Congratulations on making the team. That’s incredible. Everyone here was so proud of you.”

“Except Bill, though,” he responded. “Right?”

I felt myself shriveling up in embarrassment. Could anything not involve my brother?

Not with his best friend, it can’t, a little voice said inside my head.

“No,” I said and took another long sip. This time I did not bother concealing my grimace. “Not Bill.”

Jesse sighed. “It seems strange that I haven’t seen you since I joined the team,” he said, playing with the ice in his glass. “Well, not counting the funeral…” He trailed off and looked at me with embarrassment.

“My parents’ funeral?” I asked. “You were there?”

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling. “I hid in the back. I knew Bill would not want to see me—our fight was still so fresh—but I always liked your parents, so I went.”

“Wow.”

I didn’t know what else to say. Not seeing Jesse there had stung and disappointed me more than I could say, but now that I knew, I felt weirdly comforted.

Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand on his. Warmth burgeoned within me, and I blushed. Yanking my hand away, I circled it around my glass and looked down.

To my surprise, Jesse was not embarrassed or uncomfortable. He took his arm and wrapped it right around me. For a moment, my heart fluttered and my brain filled with silly questions. Was my hair okay? Was my T-shirt sweaty? Did I wear enough deodorant? However, when he didn’t wince or wrinkle his nose or laugh or tease, I relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his arm around me as he hugged me close.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he whispered, then added, “And for everything else.”

He kissed the side of my head and then broke our embrace.

It took several long seconds for me to form words again.

“So…” I started, quite awkwardly, “you think the Jets are going to do well this year?”

He laughed, sloshing the ice in his now empty drink.

“I sure hope so,” he declared. “There’s a bit of an uproar with some of the teammates this year. You might have heard…”

I blushed again. “Yeah, I saw something online. But I knew you couldn’t be involved.”

The smile that blossomed across his face at my words made me grateful I was sitting. I’m sure my knees would have folded right under me had I not.

“Thank you, Mary,” he said, and, at the sound of my name, my heart skipped a beat. “Some teammates got involved in something stupid. I was there and tried to stop them, but all anyone sees is that I’m in the pictures too. I hate it.”

I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I bit my lip and thought about how Bill had said almost exactly the same thing nearly five years before. It was then that I noticed my drink was empty, and that I was feeling a little buzzed.

“Damn,” I said. “I need to get home. I have a lot of work to do.”

In reality, all I wanted to do was get out of there. Our time together was going so well, and I didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Oh, alright then,” Jesse replied, looking rather sad. Then, almost immediately, he cheered up again and pulled a pen from his pocket. “How about this?” he said while scribbling on a napkin. “Why don’t you meet me tonight? There’s this party I’m going on. Here’s the address and my phone number. Give me a call when you’re there.”

Before I had a chance to say anything else, he pushed the napkin toward me, paid for our drinks, and stood up to leave. I stared at the scribbled words as if they were glowing with neon lights.

“So, Mary,” he added after a moment, and my stomach did that little swoop thing again. “I’ll catch you later. Okay?”

I raised my empty glass to him. “Yeah,” I managed to say.

He winked, and I sat there watching his sheer athleticism as he made his way outside. Wanting to make sure he didn’t see me stumble or fix my shorts on my butt or something embarrassing like that, I waited a full minute before I finally stood, thanked the bartender, and slipped out of the bar. I felt as if I was walking on ice: half elated and half terrified that I would lose my footing. After all, I, Mary Taft, had just scored a date with Jesse freaking Valen.

Ha ha, freakin’ ha!

God help me.

Chapter 3

The party was not until nine o’clock that night which gave me about seven hours to finish my chores, change out of my ridiculous outfit, shower, and make myself look good enough to go out with a man such as Jesse. Although it sounds like a lot, it definitely wasn’t. In fact, a week wouldn’t have been enough time to get me ready, and for that reason, my anxiety grew with each passing second.

Adding to that was also the problem of telling Bill. If I were just shuffling out of the house in my usual all-black waitressing outfit or the maxi dresses I wore to class, he would probably not even notice I was gone. However, in dating clothes, I would certainly raise all sorts of suspicions. Still, I pictured myself walking into that party, arm in arm, with Jesse and decide he was worth the hassle.

Sighing deeply, I put away the groceries, dug up the vacuum, and noticed the floors were already clean.

I popped my head into the living room where Bill was immersed in yet another video game. “Did you vacuum?” I asked, not daring to believe it.

“Yeah. You asked me to, didn’t you?”

“I did, yeah,” I responded. “Thank you, Bill!”

But instead of looking happy at my gratitude, Bill seemed all the more annoyed. “You don’t need to act like it’s some big deal, Mary,” he said sourly.

I was confused. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“You’re just so surprised, so overcome with relief that I vacuumed as if it’s some amazing, astounding thing.”

I scowled at him. What the hell did he want from me? Suddenly, I felt even happier about my impending date with Jesse and discovered that lying to him was quite easy.

“Well, since it’s no surprising thing,” I snapped, “you’ll find it no big deal to clean up after dinner, too. I’m going out with some friends, so I won’t be able to.”

He paused his game and cocked a sardonic eyebrow at me. “You? Going out? Ha. Have fun with that. Ten bucks say you’ll be passed out at the bar by ten thirty.”

Outrage welled up inside me. I was so sick of him, so sick of whom my brother had become. We used to be close. He taught me how to drive and showed me how to throw and catch a football, even though I was a girl. We used to stay up really late, watching movies and eating popcorn and ice cream in front of the TV. It was like when they cuffed him, all those years ago, they didn’t only bind his wrists, but his whole spirit, too.

“You don’t want me acting like everything is a big deal, Bill?” I cried. “Fine! But why don’t you stop acting like a jerk?”

And with that, I stormed up toward my room.

I did not even bother to cook dinner for him that night. I made a simple plate of vodka penne with a side salad for myself, and openly glared at him while I carried it up the stairs to eat. Still, a small finger of remorse poked at my heart and forced me to leave out a warm portion of noodles and a jar of sauce, which he could quickly throw together.

Did that make me a good person or a weak one? I wasn’t sure.

Anyway, after I scrounged down my food, careful not to leave a single bite unaccounted for—we were too broke to throw anything away—I brushed my teeth and began my transformation into someone presentable.

My first step was to find an outfit that accentuated all my good features.

When I was in high school, I made the stupid mistake of thinking that dressing in skinny jeans and clingy, featureless Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirts like the stick thin, popular girls was the only way to dress. Since then, I’ve learned a few very valuable lessons.

The first was that unlike those girls, my rounded hips, pinched waist, and large boobs gave me an hourglass figure that looked completely wrong in those trendy clothes. However, there was a broad range of clothes that flattered my curves to perfection, and therefore, lesson number two was dress to my body type, and no one else’s. The third and hardest to learn lesson, was that despite how difficult it was to convince myself of the fact, my body was incredibly sexy and desirable.

Although they may seem simple, these are lessons every woman should learn but most don’t. I knew I was one of the lucky ones to have had that insight on my junior year in college.

I kept those rules in mind as I pulled out a ruby-red, low-cut, high-bottomed little dress out of my closet. My mind told me I looked good in it, but my heart and soul dared not believe it. Ignoring the little voice in my head that called me ridiculous, I put the dress on and looked at myself in the mirror.

I couldn’t help but smile at the way the deep V-neck made my bust bloom through while still displaying my delicate collarbones. The little frilled sleeves hid my shot-putter’s biceps, and a tight black band cinched my waist in a way that made my body look like two hearts, one facing up and one facing down. The skirt was loose and flowy in the hips and butt, showing all the goods I had to offer while leaving just enough up to the imagination.

All of this, coupled with a pair of black heels, made me look like Carmen from the opera. It is important to remember, I think, that it was only recently that stick-thin, ruler-shaped women started to dominate the fashion world. In my opinion, the change was made because if more women like me—all tits and butt and hips—started grazing the cover of fashion mags and billboards, it would wreak havoc amongst the average male passerby.

That was, at least, what I kept telling myself.

And, it was what I reminded myself, again and again, as I finished getting ready for my date with Jesse. Although there would always be that little ghost of self-doubt that haunted women like me—the one conjured in high school, where there were about half ways to appear sexy—but I was getting better at ignoring it.

“You look beautiful,” I told myself in the mirror. “You look freaking beautiful.”

A dab of brandy-colored lipstick, a swish or two of mascara, and I was ready.

At least I thought I was until I tripped on the top step and nearly tumbled all the way down the stairs.

“Okay, Mary,” I told myself with a deep inhale, “you’re wearing heels, not your ultra-stick, no-slip waitressing shoes. Focus.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Paying attention to my steps and hoping that Bill wouldn’t spot me, I slipped as quietly as I could toward the door. Considering I was a big, sure-footed woman, you can imagine how “quietly” I was able to go in freaking stilettos. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that just as I put my hand on the knob, Bill’s voice echoed from the living room.

“Mary? Hey, can you grab me a beer before you leave, please?”

For a moment, I thought about saying no, or even swearing at him, but he was asking politely, and this was behavior I wanted to encourage. With a sigh, and still mindful not to trip over the slightly uneven floor of our apartment, I fetched him a drink and brought it to him.

I wondered if he’d make fun of my outfit; call me ridiculous or even fat. I wondered if perhaps he’d compliment me, tell me I looked nice or hot or something. But Bill never even looked up. Not once.

“Thanks,” he muttered, cracking open the can. His eyes never left the TV screen, and in a way, I was relieved. Still, part of me was deeply saddened by the whole exchange.

Or should I say lack of exchange?

Anyway, I had looked up the party earlier and found it was only a couple of blocks away. So, in spite of my heels, I decided to walk. Thankfully, the night air was crisp and refreshing, so I did not even work up a sweat in the time it took me to find the location.

At first, I was concerned that I might not be able to. My phone had GPS, of course, but I tried to be stingy about using it. We frequently ran out of our data allowance and our overage charges were murder. However, after several minutes of walking, I found I had absolutely no reason to worry. The three-story apartment building where the party was taking place was lit up like a beacon, with music pumping out so loudly I could make out the words nearly three hundred yards away. The street was lined with cars, many illegally parked, and party guests in various states of drunkenness teetered in and out of the main doorway, which was propped open with a box of cheap beer.

“Holy shit,” I whistled. “Some party.”

I hiked down my dress, making sure my Spanx weren’t showing and entered.

When Jesse had said “party,” I had initially expected what a small-town, too-busy-for-parties girl like me thought when they heard the word. Fifteen or fewer people crammed in someone’s basement, drinking sickly-sweet jungle juice and praying that whoever’s parents the house belonged to suddenly didn’t decide to turn around from their week-long vacation in Florida and show up just as someone was struggling to light a joint.

But this…well, this was a party.

There were at least a hundred very glamourous people. Most of the girls wore skin-tight sequined tube dresses that showed off their long, gazelle-like legs, while the men showed off their machoness—and egos—in leather sports jackets as they threw around footballs and flirted with the girls. The music was generic, electronic, and throbbed out of a speaker system so massive and expensive that I was horrified to see people putting their drinks on it as if it were a table. Still, if one was throwing this kind of party, I supposed that was to be expected.

Feeling completely out of place, I gulped at the crazy grandeur. It took all my willpower not to turn right there and stride out the door, but I reminded myself that this was a date with Jesse Valen and stepped inside.

In the kitchen, I spotted an array of half-empty liquor bottles and sticky soda cans surrounding a tower of cups. After watching several partiers’ approach, pick a bottle at random, and pour themselves a drink, I figured this was communal property and decided to help myself. Feeling slightly ashamed, I took out my five-dollar bottle of wine and added it to the ranks of party offerings before making myself a potent mix of Jim Beam and soda. I felt a little weird about drinking people’s pricey booze, but seeing as there was a least a 750-dollar bottle of liquor already spilled on the sodden floor, I figured they wouldn’t miss it.

I sipped, relishing the bravery and warmth it afforded me, and then set off to look through the rest of the party. For a moment, I considered just calling Jesse’s phone, but I dreaded the idea of shouting hoarsely to each other, trying to make ourselves heard over the music and ruckus of excited party guests. I also didn’t want to seem…eager, I supposed. Or dependent on him. I wanted to appear as if I was entirely capable of having a good time on my own in such a situation.

Therefore, I meandered and tried to not look too out of place by examining the pictures on the walls and noting how well the décor—or, in this case, the lack of décor—was perfect for partying.

Then, at last, I saw him.

Three seconds later, I realized that the reason it had taken me so long to spot Jesse was that he was sucking face with some dumb blonde bimbo. For a moment, I wished I hadn’t seen him at all. I also scolded myself for being so judgmental towards the girl’s appearance—she could certainly be an absolutely intelligent blonde bimbo—but I was so overcome with horror I just couldn’t help myself. I thought we had formed a connection at the bar, that maybe, finally, after all these years, he was genuinely interested in me.

Apparently not, I thought as I turned to walk away. However, at that very moment, Jesse freed himself from the girl’s French assault—with the sound of a plunger being yanked from a toilet—and drunkenly weaved his way toward me.

“Mary!” he cried, as if we were the best of friends—or worse, siblings—and clapped me into a rather sweaty, one-armed hug. “Mary! How are you? This is…this is…”

He looked around for the blonde, but she had already disappeared—either to get herself another drink or to examine somebody else’s tonsils, I assumed. Giving up, Jesse shrugged. “Oh, whatever. I don’t remember her name anyway. So, how are you?”

“Quite well,” I snapped, my tone indicating, with stark obviousness, that I was not.

I supposed he must have been too drunk to pick up on it, because he answered, “That’s great. Greeaat! Here, I want you to meet the host of the party. Jason? JASON!”

Another young man, who was decently handsome but not nearly as good looking as Jesse, ambled over. At his approach, Jesse hollered the man’s name once more and curled his arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“This is my friend, Mary,” he slurred. “She’s Bill’s sister, remember? Kinda dorky in high school, but now—”

Outrage at his stupid behavior filled my veins, and I shoved my drink into his hand. “Good night, Jesse.”

My words still hung in the air as I charged away from the room.

“Hey, wait!” he called, but I ignored him. I was doing my best to hide my utter humiliation behind a shield of anger and outrage, and it was working.

I think.

“Wait! Mary, wait!” Jesse cried as be burst out of the house after me. If I had a car, I could have easily gotten in and driven away while offering a select finger his way, but I didn’t have one. I had walked, in high heels, which made it incredibly easy for a goddamn professional athlete to catch up.

Why, why, whyyyyy did I wear heels?

“Mary!” he panted, at my side now. Somehow, he seemed a little less wasted. “Look, I’m really, really sorry. That was a horrible thing to say—”

I whirled on him. “And what about Ms. I-forgot-her-name? Was she horrible?”

He recoiled as if struck, opened his mouth, but did not respond.

“Here I was thinking we were out on a date—that you had asked me on a date—and when I show up, I find you making out with her? What the fucking hell?”

I was angry—so freaking angry. I knew we weren’t dating, exclusive, or anything else that would make Jesse feel any loyalty to me. I also knew he had probably kissed a thousand girls, and would probably kiss a thousand more before his football career ended, but it still stung.

“Mary.” He sighed, his voice so sad that it arrested me a moment. “I’m sorry. I do want to have a date with you. It’s just hard sometimes. You have no idea. All these girls chasing me, saying nice things…it’s hard to resist. Especially when everything else in my life is so shitty…”

My restraint or whatever was left of it at that point, exploded. “Your life is shitty? Your life is shitty? You’re an NFL superstar. You make millions of dollars a year. Men and women worship you. It’s the life my brother always wanted!”

“Yes,” he interrupted tragically. “It is the life your brother deserved too, but he did not get it. All my success—sometimes it is just as painful to me as his failures.”

I wilted. My anger vanished, like a pot of boiling water once the flame had gone out. I blinked at his sadness, his grief, his despair.

“You’re not happy with the way things turned out?” I asked astounded.

“No, Mary,” he said. “I am not happy. Every moment, of every day, of every year of my life, I live in regret. All I can think about is what would have happened if that night had gone differently.”

He stood there, his massive shoulders sagging, his great strength and athleticism bowed by the burden he carried.

“I had no idea,” I said and meant it.

“But,” he replied hesitantly, his hand creeping into my own, “When I’m with you, I feel better. Like maybe, one day, everything will be okay.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just gazed at him in awe that such a giant could be interested in someone as meek and unimportant as me. I smiled a shy smile at him and he smiled a glorious one back.

“Mary Taft,” he said after a moment, “will you consent to be my date—my only date—tonight?”

He looked at me with his big puppy dog eyes that were filled with equal parts of mirth and suffering, and I could not resist.

“Damn you, Jesse Valen,” I cried, slapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “You know how charming you are, don’t you?”

He chuckled. “That I do. And it’s gotten me out of stickier situations than this, let me tell you. Want to go back inside?”

Nodding my head, I allowed him to take my arm and guide me back into the crowded apartment.

Chapter 4

The rest of the party passed in a whirlwind of smiles and clanking drinks. The first thing Jesse did upon reentering was replace my discarded drink. This time he fetched me an expensive but delicious favorite: a Washington Apple. Afterward, he kept his arm around me and started introducing me to his friends as “his dear friend Mary.” It was a title I liked, and for much of it, I felt like I was on display.

In all honesty, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. As Jesse’s companion, I caught a little bit of his glory and glow, and for a moment, it was like I was famous and universally loved as well.

Soon we found ourselves outside. Many of Jesse’s friends were smoking, but he did not partake—he had the NFL to worry about, after all. Instead, he entertained the group with crazy football stories. Some were heroic and featured glorious touchdowns or great catches, while others were downright silly.

One I particularly enjoyed—at least, from what I could piece together in my drunken state—was about the team’s bus breaking down in the middle of Arkansas. According to the story, they were forced to stay at a bed and breakfast that had an overload of flowery bits, uncomfortably soft mattresses that were shared between teammates, and the most delicious sausages and pancakes Jesse had ever had. I liked the story because it seemed sweet, less show-offy than the rest.

Eager to prove that as least some of me could hold my own at a party like this, I stole a cigarette from some guy’s mouth, inhaled deeply, and released a series of beautifully formed, concentric smoke rings that flew through each other. It was yet another skill I’d earned working as a waitress—busboys were surprisingly crafty with their smokes during the long, boring shifts.

The crowd oohed and aahed in appreciation, and Jesse turned to me with an impressed grin and said, “I wonder what else you can do with your mouth.”

Feeling bold, I leaned so close to him that my lips grazed his cheek when I whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

My boldness made me wonder who this sexily clad girl whispering scandalous implications into a professional football player’s ear was. Whoever she was, I decided I really liked her.

Jesse grabbed me, pulled me close, and kissed me hard. The feel of his lips on mine was everything I had ever imagined it would be. His mouth was warm, firm, demanding and perfect.

The crowd catcalled and giggled, then eventually dispersed, leaving us alone to our privacy under the eaves of the house. Once we parted, we sat close enough that our shoulders touched, and looked up at the sky.

“This is really nice,” I said, pretty drunk and proud of myself.

“Yes, it is,” he replied. “I wish it could be this way all the time. It’s great playing and all, but I feel like I don’t really have a home base, you know? Like I don’t belong anywhere.”

I giggled. “Home base. Don’t you mean end zone?”

“Ah, whatever, Taft,” he murmured and rested his head on my shoulder. Overhead, the stars twinkled over the lights of the town.

“You know what would make this moment perfect?” he asked after several moments of sweet silence. “If your brother were here.”

I scowled. In my mind, that was precisely the thing that would ruin this moment.

“I don’t mean here, specifically,” he said, seeing the look on my face. “I mean, wouldn’t it be nice if he were okay with us being together, and like…having a relationship?”

Earlier that night, I would have protested vehemently. I would have claimed that my brother would never be okay with the two of us being together, that he would never enjoy Jesse’s presence. But now, after several strong drinks, I was feeling optimistic.

“You know what, Jesse?” I bubbled drunkenly. “Maybe, if we just go talk to him, he’ll get over it and be okay.”

Jesse gazed at me in happiness. It was a look that made me feel both drunker and sober at the same time.

“You think so?” he asked hopeful. “Oh, that would be amazing. Do you think he’s still awake?”

I glanced at my watch and saw it was three in the morning. “Most definitely,” I deadpanned.

“Great!” Jesse exclaimed and leaped from the curb on which we sat. I followed suit, though a bit more unsteadily. As much as I had started to enjoy looking fabulous, I continued to regret my shoes.

“Where do you live?” he asked, like a dog excited to go to a park.

I shrugged and pointed vaguely down the street.

“Awesome!” he cried and bolted toward my place.

Jesse was about half a block away when he realized how far behind I was. He stopped, turned, and galloped back to me.

“This will be a lot quicker,” he declared as he seized me around the waist and tossed me upon his back. I winced as I felt my dress ride up, but at this point in the night, I was almost too drunk to care.

“Giddy up!” I cried and poked the ends of my stilettos into his thighs as if they were spurs. He laughed, whinnying and snorting as if he were a real horse before taking off into the night.

I giggled the entire way. Part of me decided I was way too drunk for this sort of movement, while the rest of me relished in his strength and manliness. As previously mentioned, I was generally regarded as a big girl. In all the sports I had played in high school, I always was the strong, sturdy type. The center. The goalie. The shot putter. And yet Jesse threw me around as if I weighed no more than the skimpy little dress I was wearing. For me, it was a rare and exquisite feeling.

At last, we made it to my apartment.

For a moment, I was ashamed of its dingy appearance. The clusters of weeds growing around the mailbox, the overflowing recycle bin, the cracked paint were all very embarrassing, but Jesse’s face showed no disgust. Instead, he gazed at it with supreme contentment, as if there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

Jostled not only by my drinking but by my recent horse-riding activities as well, it took me about three tries to fish the keys out of my clutch and stick them in the door. A giggle and a kiss later, I was inside the apartment. However, just as I was about to hustle Jesse inside, it occurred to me that Bill might not want to be surprised. Just as I had not liked being startled in my T-shirt and messy bun at the grocery store, I was sure Bill would like an opportunity to put on something more decent than his boxers before his old frienemy ventured inside.

I asked Jesse to wait outside and stumbled into the kitchen. “Biillllllll? Helllooooo?”

In retrospect, I realized that this sort of greeting wasn’t the best way to ingratiate myself with my brother. However, it did get him to his feet, which was a good thing.

He shuffled out from the living room, holding an open box of cereal in his hands. “Hey, Mary,” he said and sniffed the air. “Whoa. What the heck have you been drinking?”

I tittered, leaning far too much on the kitchen table. “Oh, I don’t know…whiskey, gin, rum…some Washington Apples. You know, the usual.”

I laughed at my own joke. It was, in fact, quite unusual for me to come home in this state.

An awkward smile found its way across Bill’s face. “Oh, yeah? I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself. You don’t get nearly as much fun as you deserve.”

His reaction caught me by surprise, and I blinked at him a few times. Once the shock wore off, my optimism grew, continuing to buoy me. Remembering our previous fight, when he had been upset that I made “too big a deal” of things, I used a neutral tone when I thanked him for the comment and received a smile in return.

For a moment, he looked like the brother I used to know. Then, without quite meeting my eye, he said, “You’re welcome. Actually, I’ve been thinking. I wanted to apologize for our fight earlier. I know that sometimes I can be mean. I just wanted to say that I’ll…I’ll try to be better.”

“Hey, Mary!” Jesse’s voice interrupted our little moment. “Is that asshole dressed yet?”

The smile on my brother’s face froze. Suddenly, it became stiff and strained, like glass bent nearly to the breaking point.

“Who…” he started. “Who is out there?”

“Come on, Mary!” Jesse called. “Let me in.”

Bill’s eyes widened, first in recognition, then in horror, and finally in rage.

“Is that…” he rumbled like a lidded pot about to burst. “Is that Jesse Valen?”

“I…I…met him at the party,” I stammered, struggling to lie in my drunken state.

“Party?” he smoldered. “I thought you said you were going out with some friends?”

“I…” I started, but there was nothing I could say. I had no defense. My guilt was evident in the euphoric happiness that had, only moments before, been blooming across my face.

“Goddamn door,” Jesse swore as he burst inside. He had the decency to look sheepish as he stumbled into our house, but then he ruined everything by grinning at my brother. “Hi, Bill.”

“Get out!” My brother’s face contorted with rage.

This was no look of annoyance or even embarrassment. It was a look of pure hatred, and it scared me.

“C’mon, Bill—” Jesse tried.

“No!” he thundered. “I do not want you here. You are not welcome. Now get out!”

Jesse’s cocky, charismatic grin faltered, like a beautiful flower taken out of the sun.

“Come on, buddy,” he said. “I just wanna talk to you. Look, I know what you’ve been through. I know what it’s like to have your whole life turned upside down by a single night—”

Before I could realize what was happening, Bill strode forward and struck Jesse right in the face. He stumbled backward with a look of pained horror on his face. I knew he was a man who could take a hit. I had seen him play in every one of his games, so I knew the small impact of my brother’s fist was not what was hurting him.

It was the rejection of a once beloved friend.

The strike not only bruised Jesse but it also instantly sobered me. “No, Bill,” I cried, rushing between the two of them. “It’s my fault. I brought him here. It was my idea.”

This time it was Bill’s turn to wince as if he had been struck.

“But I told you I didn’t want to see him,” he said.

Although he didn’t yell, I think it would’ve been better if he had. The slow, steady hiss of his voice, made me feel like I was a gas leak and he was about to light a match.

“I know,” I implored, gripping the collar of his shirt. “But…after talking to him, after realizing that he feels just as bad about the whole thing, I thought that maybe we could find a way for us to all be friends.”

Back when my family was whole, we used to go on camping trips. I remembered one time when I was wondering through the woods and saw a rattlesnake coiled in the shadow of a rock. Its head rose as if ready to strike, while its tail quivered. That was the impression I had now, as I looked at my brother. There was no question that if Bill had a tail, it would have been rattling. If he had fangs, he would have been preparing to strike.

Then, an evil smile I had never seen before spread across his face. I imagined a forked tongue poking its way from between his lips and got ready for the poison.

“It’s because you want to fuck him, isn’t it?” he sneered. “The big, strong Jesse Valen comes into town, and you immediately want to bang him because you know you’ll never have a chance like this again.”

Unbidden, a blush crept up my face.

“No!” I exclaimed. “It’s not like that at all. You guys used to be the best of friends—”

“Ho, ho, ho, not as good of friends as you two are now,” he mocked.

“Hey, buddy,” Jesse interrupted, “your sister has been perfectly respectable. I don’t think you should be saying things like—”

“Shut up, you traitor,” he barked. “Backstabbers don’t get to tell me about my sister’s respectability. Now get out.”

“Bill,” I murmured, “please…”

“Out!” Bill yelled.

There was no arguing with him. He was as hard and cold and scaly as a reptile, glaring at us, waiting for us to leave.

“Come on, Mary,” Jesse muttered after a long sigh. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

With that, he took my hand and led me out the door.

Chapter 5

I did not cry when we left the apartment. Nor did I cry when Jesse huddled us into the back of a cab. The elevator door dinged open on his hotel room floor, and still, my eyes were dry. However, once we were hidden inside his room, Jesse took me into his arms and held me tight.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. My forehead was pressed against his shoulder, my arms around his waist. Only then, enveloped by his warmth and his manly scent, I began to cry.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, hiding my tears into his shirt. “I do everything I can for him, but it seems like the harder I try, the more I piss him off.”

Jesse rubbed my shoulders and held me against him. “Why do you try, then?”

“Because we’re family,” I replied with a shrug. “I know it’s what my mother and father would want of me.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but I don’t think they’d want you to be this unhappy.” Ever so gently, he pushed me away from him and took my chin beneath his fingers. He guided my face up so that our lips were nearly touching, and whispered, “I know I don’t.”

Then he kissed me.

His lips pressed gently against mine. They felt familiar now, comforting, and somehow, with that one kiss, Jesse managed to peel off a layer of sadness from my heart and warm it just enough to make me want to stop crying.

Come on, Mary! I urged myself. Stop crying. No one wants to kiss a crying girl.

To my surprise, Jesse seemed like he did—or at least like he did not mind the salt, running nose and all else that my outburst entitled. It warmed my heart even more.

“Come with me,” he said after a moment.

Confused, I took his hand and allowed him to lead me to the bathroom. There, he brushed the hair off my forehead, kissed it, and then undid the belt around my waist. I stared at him with a hurricane of emotions in my eyes. I was a little nervous, still pretty hammered, and really upset about my brother’s reaction to the two of us. As much as I wanted to get naked with Jesse Valen, now was probably not the best time.

“I don’t know, Jesse,” I stammered. “I’m not sure if now is the best—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted me as he shimmied out of his clothes. “Trust me?”

The question lingered in the air as he removed each item of clothing and tossed it to the floor. It had been a long time since I had trusted anybody, but as he stood naked and magnificent in front of me, I decided I wanted to trust him.

He stood still and stared at me for just long enough for my eyes to drift down his body. My body grew warm and wet at the sight of his sculpted, rippling muscles. Unable to help myself, I bit my lip and allowed my eyes to drift down, right between his legs. He was not yet hard, but I could tell by what was there already that he would be massive.

Before I was completely done looking at him, Jesse turned the water of the shower. Once it was hot and steaming, he stepped inside. Seconds later, a warm, sopping hand emerged from behind the curtain, beckoning me in. Feeling—sort of—brave, I shrugged off the rest of my clothing and stepped, almost warily, into the steaming shower.

I was not sure what to expect. A part of me thought he might slam me against the wall, turn me around, and fuck me from behind, while another imagined him burying both hands in my hair, driving me to my knees, and offering himself to me. Don’t get me wrong, on most days, I would have enjoyed that, but tonight, after seeing my brother’s face I did not feel riled, confident, or empowered.

I felt sad and lonely and small.

However, Jesse did not do any of those things. Instead, he gently took my hand and guided me against his chest. It was warm and firm, with lovely dark hair adding texture to his smooth, slick skin. He reached up and unwound my hair from the updo in which I had it. Then, he let it cascade around my shoulders and caressed it to make sure it was entirely sodden with warm water. This being a fancy hotel, he reached to the side, selected one of the many options of expensive shampoos and squirted a dollop onto his hand. Then, ever so tenderly, he began to massage it into my scalp.

As a professional football player, one might have expected his hands to be overly rough and calloused, but they weren’t. Although definitely strong and manly, there was a gentleness in the way he rubbed my head that comforted me to my very soul. I relaxed and felt my weight settling against him.

Usually, I did not like for a guy to know, or to sense, how much I weighed, but Jesse was strong enough. He was strong enough to make me feel light and fragile. He was strong enough to bear the burden that I was now crying out upon his shoulder. He was strong enough to make me feel peace even though I was in the eye of a hurricane.

When he was finished soaking my hair, he turned me around so that my face was in the stream of the water and my back was against his body. I could feel the full length of him, from the shoulders that enveloped mine to his manhood pressed against my butt. I could tell he was hard, but it wasn’t in a pushy or imperative way. He was enjoying my body, yes, but right now he sensed that what I needed was comfort, not climax, and he was, once again, strong enough to give it to me.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Jesse did not respond but kissed the side of my neck, where the soft rivulets of water traced the outline of his lips upon my skin. With my hair rinsed, it was his time to find comfort. I melted into him as he reached around my body and cupped both of my breasts. Again, he did not do it demandingly or aggressively, but I allowed him to play and explore me in a way that brought him comfort.

It had been so long since I had found comfort anywhere, that I was surprised at how much his touch soothed not only him but me as well.

When we finished, we floated our way out of the shower, toweled dry, and tumbled into bed. Within minutes, we were fast asleep, curled up like two kittens.

* * *

The next morning we awoke bright and early. I blinked at the sunlight that assaulted my eyes but overall felt utterly content. I smiled and then rolled over to see Jesse beside me, leaning on his elbow, and clearly already awake.

“You feeling better?” he asked, a mysterious smile on his face.

I yawned deeply, stretched, and murmured, “Yes, I do. Much better than I have felt in a long time.”

“Good,” he replied, gentle as rain.

And then he sprang.

His lips pressed against mine. Eagerly. Desperately. I felt his hands move from squeezing my waist to taking both my breasts in them. I giggled and shoved him away.

“Don’t you want this?” he asked, obviously concerned.

In response, I reached down to the very awake erection between his legs and gave him a squeeze. “It is exactly what I want, but first, I need to pee.”

He laughed and kicked the blankets off him to expose the full length of his body. My God, with the early morning sun glowing in his salient muscles, he looked amazing. A wide grin spread across my face as I dashed to the bathroom. I did what I needed to do in record speed, swashed some Listerine around my mouth, and made sure everything was presentable before I returned to the room, eager to enjoy every inch of Jesse Valen I could get my hands, mouth, and pussy on.

“Now are you ready?” he teased as I stood on the threshold.

His hand grasped manhood, stroking it slowly to keep it nice and firm for me. Holding his gaze, I made my way to the bed and bent down between his legs. I knocked his hand away and replaced it with mine. He was massive, hard and pink as I stroked him. His eyes fluttered in the same pace as my stomach as I brought my lips to kiss the tip of his cock.

Jesse shivered and gasped, but I was not through yet. In fact, I was far from it.

I kissed a ring around his tip, then opened my mouth and took him inside me. His taste was delicious, clean and slightly salty. I worked up and down a few times, making him groan and stiffen, and then I pulled back and looked at him with a smile.

“What do you think?” I teased before going down on him again.

He moaned and bucked against me as one of my hands encircled the base of his shaft, making sure to squeeze all the way down to the base every time I dipped my mouth, while my other hand cupped and massaged his balls. His whole body flexed and trembled. His toes curled with each of my movements as pleasure raced down his entire body. I felt proud and pleased to see just how much I could turn him on.

Eager to see how far I could take him, I amped every movement I made until he was panting. Once it became too much for him, Jesse seized me by the hair, yanked me back, and threw me beneath him.

“Your turn, baby,” he grunted, and then jumped on top of me.

Unlike the night before, he was impatient, insistent, and dominating—my absolute favorite combination. I opened my legs automatically and wrapped them around his narrow, muscular waist.

His cock was rock hard and hot, like iron left in sunlight. It lay across me, from the fork of my legs all the way up to my bellybutton. He thrust, not yet inside me, but against me. It was a pure display of his power and the strength of his dominance, and it made me wetter than anything or anyone had ever had.

Our kisses were intense as his hands scooped my breasts together, bouncing them, squeezing them. His fingertips flicked my nipples, and I moaned as pleasure lanced between them and arched my chest to press them into his grip. Then, he pinched them and I screamed aloud and drove my thighs up and over his back, rocking my hips, urging him inside me.

“Do you want it?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes,” I begged, but still, Jesse didn’t take me. All he did was move his lips from my neck down to my nipples where his tongue danced upon their pebble-hard forms. It was torture.

“Are you sure?”

Before I had a chance to reply, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them down against the bed. Using his hips, he slid his cock down the length of my body, from between my breasts all the way down to my pussy, where he dipped, ever so tantalizingly, the tip of his manhood inside my opening.

“Jesse Valen, put it in me now,” I commanded.

My words made him pause his wicked teasing and bring his mouth to mine. He kissed my lips tenderly, and said, “I’ll put it in you when I wanna put it in you. Understand?”

I nodded.

He kissed me again and waited, with the tip of his cock almost inside me, until I whimpered. Once I did, he drove his cock into me with one swift push.

I was so wet he did not have to force it or work me open. He just rammed it right in and kept going. My eyes rolled back in pleasure as he fucked me all the way through, as deeply as I could take it. He was rock-hard, massive and plowed into me so deeply that his balls slapped against the bottom of my pussy. I moaned, straining against him, but he kept me pinned down.

The night before had proved that he was a gentleman, but this morning showed that he was also a beast. An excellent, powerful sex animal.

Jesse’s pounding was relentless. He made sure each concussive impact slid his entire length into me before he pulled back until he was nearly out just to drive all the way back in again. His hands worked my breasts, alternatively squeezing their molded flesh, flicking my nipples, and pinching them hard.

I could feel myself building. His cock was so big and turgid in its erection that I could feel the exact, precise shape of him as he drove in and out of my body. His rounded tip pummeled my G-spot in a way that sent tingles down my limbs and spine.

“I’m close,” I cried. “I’m so close.”

Bearing his teeth in the effort of pounding mercilessly into me, Jesse pulled my legs from around his waist and brought them up over his shoulders. My ankles framed his gorgeous face, and I felt him deeper and harder than ever before.

“Yes!” I screamed. “Yes! I’m coming!”

And with that, my whole body rocked with the strength of my orgasm. It started in my pussy, erupted to my clit, and, as Jesse pinched my breasts in tandem with my climax, the pleasure traveled across my entire body. I moaned and gasped as my internal muscles flexed around the length of his shaft and he continued to pump into me.

“You good?” he grunted, continuing his assault. I blinked my eyes back into focus and met his intense gaze.

“Yes,” I mumbled as my weak fingers grasped at the sheets.

“Good,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

He thrust himself back until he was all the way out. I felt a sudden rush of cold emptiness, but then, he seized me around my hips with an iron grip and flung me over onto my stomach. Although it didn’t hurt, I gasped in surprise. His obvious strength and dominance made my already soaked pussy gush with wetness.

The pillow muffled my screams of pleasure as Jesse continued to fuck me as hard as he could. His balls slapped at my pussy adding a new wave of pleasure to the whole sensation. He grabbed my ass and spread my cheeks so his thrusts would go deeper, making my pleasure and sense of utter powerlessness grow. Once all the way inside, he reached one hand around me and squeezed my clit.

I screamed and orgasmed again. Wetness gushed out of me, drenching his shaft, trickling down his balls, and lubricating my entire pussy so that every thrust was frictionless, swooping as deep as he could go.

“I’m almost there,” he said panting. “I am going to pump you full.”

His breaths came out with grunts of pleasure as his hands left my clit and my nipples to squeeze my body almost at random. His hands covered my ass, my back, my thighs as he clawed at every inch of me.

“Here it goes, baby,” he cried, and I felt my insides explode.

Hot cum doused me, pumping right into my G-spot, making me come alongside him. The onslaught was massive, and the rippling muscles of my pussy flexed everywhere, pulling it in, pushing it out, so that not only my insides but also my clit, my labia, his shaft, his balls—everything—was flooded with cum.

Jesse slowed his pumping as his manhood slowly softened. Every once in a while he would spasm inside of me and fill me with another spurt of cum. Once he was completely done, he moaned with pleasure and slipped out, rolling onto his back beside me.

For a moment, I felt an indescribable emptiness at becoming one single being again. I turned over, finding comfort in how wet and hot my insides were, and kissed his lips before resting my head against his collarbone.

It was only then that I realized how dangerous the position I had put myself in actually was. Jesse would only be in town for a couple of weeks, maximum, which posed the question: Did I really want to fall for a guy who would be off gallivanting with celebrities and supermodels as soon as the season started?

I wasn’t sure of it.

“Jesse,” I said, and lifted myself off him to gaze into his eyes. “I probably should have brought this up earlier, but I am not a ‘one-night’ sort of girl. I mean, what were you looking to get from all of this? From the two of us?”

To my surprise, Jesse chuckled and kissed me. Then, without wasting a single heartbeat, he replied, “Trust me, I know Mary Taft is not a one-hit wonder. As for what I am looking for, I guess I'm not sure yet, but I want to find out with you.”

He smiled and coaxed me back into his arms. It was hard to feel upset or worried with a man like Jesse Valen naked beside you.

I took a deep breath, and together we fell back asleep.

Chapter 6

As much as I would’ve loved to stay in bed all day with Jesse, I, unfortunately, had a shift that afternoon. With a lot of reluctance, I wriggled my way back into my outfit, slipped on my stupid heels, and went outside. As I walked into the lobby, I found myself wishing I had brought a different outfit. My sexy getup combined with my bed hair and clean washed face made me stick out from the crowd like a sore thumb doing the walk of shame.

My embarrassment was lessened when I stepped outside the hotel and found the cabbie Jesse had hired to drive me home waiting for me. I don’t know why, but the idea of not having to wait for a ride made me feel a little less weird about the whole thing. Once the car came to a stop at my apartment, I went to pay but discovered that Jesse had already paid. My heart warmed at his care toward me, and I practically floated toward my apartment.

That fuzzy feeling, however, vanished as soon as I arrived at my front door. Remembering our fight and the awful things Bill said and did the previous night, I closed my eyes and murmured, “Let him be asleep or so engaged in his video games he doesn’t even notice me come in.”

With that prayer on repeat, I found my keys, inserted them into the door, and turned the lock with a small click. After removing my shoes, I tiptoed inside trying to be as quiet as a mouse. When I saw no sign of Bill, I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge before sinking down into one of the kitchen table chairs.

“So, you’ve officially joined the Jesse Valen fan club then?” a harsh, cutting voice sneered from across the hall.

It was Bill, obviously, and he strode into the kitchen, reeking of cheap booze, and sat down at the table across from me. It was not a companionable gesture, but one of dominance.

Decided to stand my ground, I crossed my arms and looked right into his eyes. “I have never had a problem with Jesse. That was only you.”

“Yes, well,” he growled, “I have every reason to be angry with him.”

With surprising viciousness, I crumpled the can of soda in my hand. “Look, Bill,” I hissed, “I don’t know what happened that night between the two of you, but I do know that your life was not the only one affected by the consequences of that fuck up. Got it?”

He chuckled a menacing, condescending, snide chuckle of mockery. “If you only knew what he did to me you’d never have banged him.”

I sighed and threw my head into my hands. I was so tired of this. Tired of this animosity, this condescension, this constant feeling like no matter what I did I was an idiot, a screw-up, and a bitch.

“Jesse Valen is kind to me!” I yelled. “That’s more than you have done for at least five years. So just stop.”

“Mary—”

“Mary nothing,” I barked. “Look, I know you’ve had it hard, but I am beyond caring for this little pity party of yours. You know what? Other people experience things just as bad as you did, and they get over it. The way you’re acting is pathetic. You wallow around here all day, feeling sorry for yourself, while other people get up and move on with their lives. Man up, Bill, and move on!”

I expected him to be angry. I expected him to leap out of this seat and shout at me or throw things, or at least curse, but he did none of those things. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean, cruel smile like you’d see on a street punk about to kick a dog, and it made me wonder who this person in front of me was. He sure wasn’t the brother my parents raised.

“You say those things now,” he said, “but give it a few weeks. We’ll see how fond you are of Mr. Jesse Valen then.”

He rose, gave me a sneering, condescending wink, and ambled from the room. As a door slammed behind him, I felt winded and upset but realized I was not as hurt as I thought I’d be. Jesse’s comfort still warmed me from within, like a jacket on a cold night, or body armor in battle.

“Please, God,” I whispered. “Please don’t let Bill be right.”

I plodded up the stairs, changed for my shift, and stumbled off to work.

* * *

It was the kind of shift a waitress loved for the tips but hated for the exertion. What made it even crazier was that Jesse and a bunch of his football-playing friends marched in, sat at a table for twelve, and basically took over the place. Lucky me, I was assigned his table.

Sigh.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Jesse, of course, I did. I wanted to see him all the time; I just didn’t want him to see me here while I was covered in cooking grease and smelling like fried rice. To my surprise, as I approached the table with my pad and pencil at the ready, Jesse didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, Mary!” He greeted and rose to kiss me on the lips. “You look lovely today.”

My cheeks blushed a deep scarlet color. Usually, men like him didn’t want to display a girl like me to their friends. But I guess Jesse Valen was different. Thank God, he was different.

We talked a little while I took their orders, but unfortunately, I was not able to spend too much time with him. It was a busy shift, and though I fetched him drinks and squeezed his hand once again, I spent most of my time tending to others. The story of my life, I guess. Still, when he and his friends were finished, Jesse came up to me and asked when I’d be able to see him again.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “I work every single night this week and have classes during the day.”

“What about in the morning?” he asked tentatively touching my hip.

“Well, my classes start at nine, but I have to be on the road by eight to arrive on time. So unless you want to meet me for breakfast at like … seven, we’ll have to count it—”

“Seven is perfect,” he exclaimed. I must’ve looked surprised, for he quickly explained. “That’s how early practices start during the season. It is no problem for me.”

“Wow,” I said. “Okay, then. How’s Wednesday?”

“Perfect,” he declared and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later then, all right?”

“All right,” I murmured and watched as he and his friends bounded out the door.

As you can imagine, I spent the rest of my shift feeling like I was floating on air.

Several weeks passed in this manner. I worked hard, and Jesse partied hard, but we still found time to hang out together. Usually, it was in the morning before my classes, which gave us little time to have sex. However, on those occasions when we simply could not take it anymore, Jesse would burst in after work, literally sweep me off my feet, and carry me right to his hotel room.

It was wonderful, but also very strange. For most of the time, it was like I was back in high school, laughing and talking with him about stupid, silly things and just generally having fun. The rest of time, of course, was a whirlwind of touches and sex and mind-blowing pleasure. I liked that we could chat with each other like the old days and be friends as well as lovers. It was the easiest thing in the world to be with him.

During our time together, neither of us mentioned Bill. There was no point, and we both knew it.

Bill, of course, knew what was going on. I might have been able to hide my sneaking in and out of the house, but I couldn’t hide my happiness. Often, I found myself smiling, humming, or singing around the house. Predictably, Bill took my new behavior as an opportunity to taunt and tease me. He kept dropping insidious hints about Jesse’s past and implying that he would betray me in the end, but I was determined not to listen. Jesse’s growing affection for me was like a suit of armor that protected me against my brother’s meanness, and though I knew our relationship had an expiration date—namely, the start of Jesse’s professional season—I was determined to enjoy it for as long as I could.

Then, in a single moment, everything changed.

On a Friday morning, about two months into our relationship, I woke up feeling rather ill. Slightly dizzy, I waddled into the bathroom and promptly threw up.

“Oh, man,” I groaned, not only out of sickness but also out of frustration.

Friday’s were the busiest day of the week at the restaurant, and I literally could not afford to be sick tonight. Determined to get myself in good enough shape to work, I opened up the medicine cabinet and shuffled things around in search for some stomach medicine. It was then that I noticed the box of tampons, untouched and collecting dust.

That’s weird, I thought. I bought those weeks ago. Four weeks ago, to be exact.

My legs grew weak as panic settled into my heart, but I forced them to move towards my bedroom. I rushed over to my purse, seized my wallet, and pulled out my little packet of birth control. I examined the package carefully counting backward to double check that I’d taken the pill every single day, as I thought I had.

I pulled in a long, calming breath as I saw that the packet checked out. I had taken every single one. My heart returned to its normal pace as I stuffed it back into my wallet and threw it into my purse. On impact, it hit the junk collected at the bottom, and that’s when I saw a faint glimmer of foil.

With a trembling hand, I retrieved it and saw it was last month’s packet. My heart sank to my feet at the sight of a single white pill, still waiting there for me.

“God, no!” I cried, frantically swallowing the pill as if that would do any good. What were the chances? What would missing that one, little, lonesome pill actually do?

I didn’t know, but I had to.

Knowing that I would be late for my shift anyways, I made a detour to the local pharmacy. Completely paranoid, I kept glancing over my shoulder, watching to see if anyone saw me purchasing the dreaded pregnancy test, but luckily, no one seemed to care. Since there was no bathroom at the pharmacy, I had to take it to work.

My boss was not mad at my tardiness. I was a good employee and was almost never late. Ha. Ha. Never late. Not until freaking today.

He also didn’t mind when, after clocking in, I rushed immediately to the bathroom. I completed the test and then sat there, waiting, waiting, watching the timer on my cell phone clicking down. And while I waited, I prayed.

Please no… I thought. Please no.

The timer on my phone binged. I closed my eyes and held the pregnancy test up at eye level.

Open your eyes, Mary, I ordered myself, but my lids did not obey.

Open them. Open them NOW!

I opened them. It took several long seconds for my eyes to focus on that fateful, single word: “Pregnant.”

I felt as if the floor had opened up beneath me, and everything, my whole world, fell into a terrible whirlpool that sucked me down, down, down into the darkness below.

“It can’t be!” I cried and took another test.

After waiting the assigned number of minutes, this one also read positive.

“No, no, no, nonono,” I murmured again and again. The sound was a desperate, inhuman cry that reflected exactly how terrified I was. How could I have let myself be so stupid? How could that one little fuck up have backfired so terribly?

In the middle of my indignation, anger blossomed within me. Why me? I thought. I knew so many girls who were careless with their birth control. They forgot to take their pills, gave up on condoms halfway through, or even relied on the simple “pulling out” method to prevent pregnancy, and they didn’t get pregnant. Then, there was me, good-girl Mary Taft, always so diligent, always so dutiful, who missed one freaking pill and ended up knocked up.

The injustice of it all boiled inside and threatened to burst out in threats or tears, I didn’t know which.

“Mary?” My boss’s voice mixed with the sound of a simple knock on the door. “Mary? Are you okay in there?”

I opened my mouth, not knowing if I would cry or scream. What I managed was a hollow, damp sort of whisper, “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

After fixing my clothes and burying the pregnancy tests deep in the feminine hygiene box, I staggered out of the stall, washed my hands, and greeted my boss outside the door.

“Jesus, Mary, you look terrible.” He gasped at my pale, red-eyed form. “Were you sick in there?”

“No, I…” I faltered. “I just…needed a few minutes, you know?”

He was not convinced. With eyes brimming with concern, he touched my shoulder and said, “Look, why don’t you go home? I don’t think it’ll be too busy tonight, and the other girls would surely appreciate your share in the tips.”

“No, thank you, Dave,” I murmured back, not quite meeting his eyes. “I really would rather work…you know, stay busy and all.”

He gazed at me, with the steady, penetrating look of someone who definitely sensed that something was up. However, he also seemed to realize that distracting myself and focusing on the banality of work, might help with my grievances.

“Okay,” he relented at last. “But if you feel ill, need a break or anything like that, you let me know. Got it?”

I nodded and thanked him for his understanding. Then, I tied my apron around my waist and threw myself into my work. I concentrated on the orders as I had never concentrated before, and somehow, everything else was blotted from my mind.

Chapter 7

As soon as I had a minute to spare between customers, I texted Jesse. The message was simple: we need to talk. I knew such aggressiveness and acuity only days before he was bound to leave would probably make him nervous, but that was okay. Nervousness was exactly what the two of us should be feeling.

The rest of my shift passed in a blur. I made great tips, which sort of made up for the rocky start of my day. Once my shift ended, I called Jesse, and he picked me up and drove me to the hotel. Although this had become a standard custom between us over the past couple of months, tonight the atmosphere between us was completely different.

Instead of being just two people who wanted to have sex, we were two people bound to have a serious discussion and, as such, we were quiet and stiff around each other. Every once in a while, I made sure to smile at Jesse or touch his knee. I wanted to show him that I wasn’t mad at him, but at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to have a normal conversation when the weight of the news I had to give him was hanging over my head.

“All right, Mary, what’s up?” he asked as soon as the door of his hotel room closed behind him.

Until that point, I had been stoic, brave. However, at the sight of him standing there, looking adorable in his white T and faded jeans, all my strength left me. Tears sprang unbidden from my eyes, and my knees fell out from under me. I would’ve hit the floor if Jesse had not rushed forward and caught me just in time.

“What is it, Mary?” he implored, stroking the back of my head. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” I stammered, too overcome to speak. “I’m…”

“Yes? What is it? You can tell me, baby.”

I don’t know where the strength to finally tell him came from. Perhaps he was lending it to me, transferring it through his embrace, or maybe it was from the tender way he had said the word baby. Either way, I found the courage to push him away and hold his gaze with mine.

“Jesse,” I started in a shaky voice and sighed. “I’m pregnant.”

At first, he smiled as if I were joking. His eyes widened expectantly as if waiting for me to shout, “Gotcha!” but I just continued to gaze at him. My eyes brimmed with sadness, fear, and perhaps, just a little bit of hope.

“Jesus,” he exhaled after a couple of minutes and sagged onto the bed—the same bed that was the culprit of our current predicament.

For a moment, I wondered why I had to pay such a high price for the fun and pleasure we found with each other. However, before I could arrive at a solution, Jesse spoke again.

“Are you sure?”

I sighed and sat down beside him. “I’ve taken two tests. I have a doctor’s appointment set up for next week, but I’m pretty sure. It’s hard to explain, but my body feels different.”

He nodded a few times. Then, in a voice that sounded almost afraid, he asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I guess that’s why I’m talking to you.”

Jesse put his arm around me and, for several minutes, we just sat in silence. As I waited for his response, a million different thoughts and fears crowded my mind. Would he ask me to get rid of it? Would he stay with me, or would he abandon me to my own devices? How much did an abortion cost? Could I afford it? Could I afford not to afford it?

As the questions kept twirling inside my head, I realized that everything depended on Jesse’s next move. With anticipation pulsing off me in waves, I watched as he opened his mouth, but he did not say anything. Instead, he laughed.

It was just the slightest chuckle at first, small enough almost to be mistaken for a clearing of the throat or a cough. However, in a matter of seconds it grew to a giggle, and then to a full-out laugh.

I was disturbed. It was not the laughter of someone who sensed something funny. It was the laughter of someone who’d gone insane.

“Do you know why…” he said as he wiped tears from his eyes and struggled to catch his breath. “Do you know why your brother hates me so much?”

My eyes narrowed. “I assumed it was because you’re successful and he’s not.”

The laughter diminished. Now it sounded almost like a sob.

“That’s part of it, yes,” he murmured. “But it’s not the worst of it. The night he was arrested, I was there too. We had both been drinking, we were both high, and I was the one who wanted to get fast food. Fucking chili cheese fries. A whole life ruined for fucking chili cheese fries.”

Jesse huffed as he continued, “I made him drive. He was always a better driver—he was always better at everything. School. Football. Life in general. He thrived, and I sucked.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Anyways, I asked him to drive and didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t realize that, by making him drive, I was shunting the responsibility on his shoulders and taking it off mine.”

“I know all this,” I interrupted. “I know you were out with Bill that night. Everyone does. What does this have to do with anything?”

He closed his eyes in a grimace. There was no laughter in him now. No sobbing either. Now, his voice was as tender and naked as exposed flesh on a winter’s night.

“It has to do with me being in the car when Bill crashed it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “It was just him and your ex-girlfriend in the car. They were the ones who got arrested.”

“Yes, they were,” Jesse said in a sad tone. “But I was with them. No one ever wondered why Elizabeth was sitting in the backseat, but I was the reason. I was seated in the passenger seat, and somehow during the investigation, no one thought to ask why the passenger seat was empty.”

The truth was beginning to dawn on me, but I did not want to face it. “What are you talking about?”

“I was riding with them when he crashed the car,” he explained the obvious, and my heart ached at the pain in his voice. “At first we were just three happy, innocent, stupid shit kids, driving along at ninety miles per hour. And then…boom!

“None of us saw the car abandoned on the side of the road until Bill hit it. Then, the airbags deployed and we were all knocked out. I was the first to come to, and I checked both Bill and Liz to see if they were breathing. They were, but they were also reeking of alcohol. As drunk as I was, I knew he was fucked. Liz was the second to come around, but she was really groggy. I tried to reach back and help her, but then I heard the sirens.”

His head fell to his hands. It was as if every word he spoke was drawn out of him like vials of blood.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said with embarrassment laced with his words. “I tried to free Liz and wake your brother up, but I couldn’t. The police were getting closer, and I panicked. So, just before the cops arrived, I left the two of them there and ran.”

A single tear fell from my eyes. I waited in silence for Jesse to continue and when he finally did, his voice faltered.

“I ran,” he cried. “I opened the door and ran. I hid in the woods and watched as the cops and an ambulance arrived. They took Elizabeth out and then arrested your brother. I thought about jumping out, telling them I was there too, but I couldn’t see what good it would have done so I didn’t. I just waited there, like a coward, as your brother’s life was ruined because of my stupid fries.” He looked away from me and curled his shoulders as if trying to make himself look as small as he felt. “Now, have the career, the money, the success… Everything he deserved, I got as a reward for my cowardice. And let me tell you, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret that moment.”

His speech was finished, but still, I did not reply or tried to comfort him. I did not know what to think, and at that moment, I saw my brother, sitting alone at the house, drowning himself in liquor and video games because Jesse left him in his time of need.

Like a ghost, my brother’s voice warning me that Jesse couldn’t be trusted returned to haunt me. My stomach knotted with fear that he would do that to our child and me. As much as I tried not to, in my mind’s eye, I saw him leaving me alone and pregnant, and I have to admit it was one of the lowest points of my life.

I closed my eyes to escape that cruel reality as a tear fell from my face. Just as I was about to give into despair, Jesse took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. His usually strong and sturdy hands trembled in a way that made me open my eyes and look at him.

He smiled at me, and when he finally spoke, I did not hear weakness in his voice, only determination. “I ran away once,” he said, squeezing my hand hard. “I’m not going to do it again. I’m going to own up to my responsibilities and take care of you—of both of you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I…I love you.”

With happy and relieved tears in my eyes, I wrapped my arms around Jesse and held him close. I could tell how much it pained him to admit all this to me. He was a man who had created an image of someone powerful, unstoppable, unafraid, and I felt honored that he was sharing his shame and torment with me.

My whole life had been spent forgiving people. I forgave my brother for his tantrums and his helplessness. I forgave my parents for being so careless and leaving Bill and me alone in the world. And now I found myself in a position to forgive Jesse, the man I loved, and though it was hard, I decided I could do it.

Does that make me a good person or a weak one? I thought, and this time, I decided it made me a good one.

I curled my arms around him in a tight embrace, and together we sank down onto the bed. Lying side by side, we held each other close, comforting the other’s fears—of the future, of the past—deep into the night.

Chapter 8

For several glorious seconds, after I woke up the next morning, I didn’t remember the problems of the night before. All I knew was that I was in bed with Jesse, naked and curled up beside him, feeling physically and emotionally content.

Then, reality crashed down upon me, and for the first time in about five years, I called my boss and asked for the day off—which I was promptly given. I knew there was no ignoring the problems my pregnancy presented. I couldn’t will them away by throwing myself into my work, and therefore, Jesse and I had to figure out what to do.

Eager to keep moving and give myself the impression of progress, I woke Jesse up and told him I wanted to go out to a diner for breakfast. Hey, if there’s ever a time a girl can eat a giant platter of bacon and eggs without feeling guilty, I figured it was while pregnant.

Neither of us talked much as we went about our morning rituals. We showered, kissed, and got dressed, but we were both too absorbed in our own thoughts for much discourse. It wasn’t until the waitress had served us coffee that Jesse finally opened the conversation.

“There’s something really bothering me in all this,” he said.

“You mean other than the obvious things?” I commented sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes and gave me a dry chuckle. “I’ve been thinking about Bill. He was so angry when he found out we were dating. Imagine how upset he’ll be when he finds out about the baby.”

“I’m trying not to.” I sighed and dumped about eight packets of sugar into my coffee. “Who knows what he’ll do?”

“We have to find some way to make it better,” Jesse said as his hand fell to the table. “I’ve ruined his life enough. I’ve given him a hundred reasons already to resent me—the crash, the fact that I got to play in college while he was doing time and the NFL. I don’t want to give him another one. I already miss my best friend enough as it is.”

“Ditto,” I murmured, completely understanding him. Since childhood, Bill and I had been attached at the hip, so that crash didn’t rob only Jesse of his best friend. It took mine as well.

The waitress returned with our meals and the aroma of bacon and scrambled eggs made my mouth water. However, I found that with the weight of the conversation upon us, it did not bring me much joy. Still, I ate heartily, hoping to keep up my strength.

“You know,” Jesse continued, “I’ve never stopped thinking about him. All my games, all my successes, I’ve always wished he was there with me.” He took a deep breath as he nibbled on a strip of bacon. “This whole thing that’s been going on in the media about my teammates and me made me understand Bill a little better. Having people think the worst of you when the whole truth isn’t out sucks sweaty ass.”

“But you weren’t involved, were you?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.

He glared at me, and for the first time since I told him the news about the baby, he seemed angry.

“Of course not!” he declared. “I’ve told you. My teammates were, but I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Are you going to tell the cops?” I asked, knowing they were waiting on testimonies from different teammates.

“Yes,” he said sadly. “I know they’re my team, but people got hurt. As I’ve said, I’m tired of running away and only dealing with the easy things. It’s time I man up.”

I gazed at him fondly and realized I was proud. Not many athletes would deal with the consequences of going against their team, even if what they were doing was right. Warmth spread across my body as I realized how much of a good guy Jesse really was. I took a big bite of scrambled eggs and hash browns and felt better.

“I tried to confess, you know?” Jesse said, still only poking at his pancakes. “After the crash, when Bill was in prison, I went to his lawyer and asked how confessing might help your brother. He said there was no point in confessing since it wouldn’t lessen Bill’s sentence in any way. Still, I wanted to do it, but when Bill heard of it, he told me to stop being stupid and not waste my future, so I listened to him.” Jesse huffed and looked out the window. “Even with everything going on, he was braver and more selfless than I was.”

I took his hand from across the table and squeezed it. I was not angry at him for any of these revelations. Obviously, with all the self-punishment he’d been administering himself, he had paid for what he’d done twice over. Besides, I wanted the happy, cocky, joyful Jesse I fell in love with as the father of my child and not a man riddled with guilt.

“Jesse,” I said, “If you stand by me, if you do what’s right and don’t be afraid now, I think Bill will forgive you. Maybe, he’ll see it as a sort of atonement.”

“You really think so?” Jesse asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.

I swallowed. The truth was, I didn’t think so. But I hoped so, and that was good enough.

“Yes,” I lied. “I’m sure, once Bill sees how much you care about the baby and me, he’ll forgive you.”

He leaned across the table and kissed me deeply on the lips.

“I believe that as long as I’m with you, everything will be all right,” I whispered.

That, at least, was the truth.

Suddenly, Jesse looked at his watch. “I need to get going,” he said. “I don’t have that much time before I’m supposed to leave, and there are some things I need to take care of. I’ll see you later, Mary. All right?”

With that, he threw some money on the table, gave me a swift kiss on the cheek, and hustled out of the door. I gazed at him as he left, confused and, to be honest, slightly hurt. Where could he be going that was more important than this conversation?

Trust him, I told myself. If you love him, that means you can trust him.

I took a deep breath, gathered up the change he had tossed on the table, and rose to pay at the till. Having been released from work, I had the whole day ahead of me and no Jesse to spend it with. It was a disappointing reality, but I figured it was also a good thing. To prepare my brother to hear my good news, I had to get him in a good—or at least decent—mood. The first step for that, of course, was making sure that his tummy was happy.

On the way home, I picked up a large bacon pizza and a twelve pack of beer. Without thinking, I walked over to the hard liquor section and browsed the scotch and the rum selection only to remember that I can’t drink. It was a sacrifice that, before I was pregnant, I had thought would be a big deal. Now it seemed silly that I’d ever worried about something as trivial as whether or not I could have a drink. Maybe what they said was true, being a mother—or a future mother anyway—did mature you.

Usually, spending this sort of pointless money and taking off work would put me on edge, but today it was what I needed. Feeling both anxious and hopeful, I made my way home.

“Hey, Bill!” I called as I entered, careful to waft the smell of the pizza ahead of me. “Fancy something to eat and drink?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, poking his head out from the living room.

The fact that he’d gotten off the couch was a good sign. It could’ve been the pizza, but I preferred to be a little more optimistic.

“Oh, Dave gave me the day off. Apparently, it’s supposed to be super slow Saturday. So, I thought I’d spend the day with you.” I deliberately made my voice peaceable and warm, but perhaps, I overdid it a little. He narrowed his eyes at my bubbly tone and looked at me suspiciously.

“Can we afford that?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.

Part of me boiled with sudden anger. You mean if I can afford it, I shouted internally, seeing as I was the only one making any money in this house. However, I did not let my anger show. My mission today was to make Bill happy, to put him in a good enough mood to accept the news about Jesse’s and my baby. So instead of shouting, I offered him a beer.

“Thank you,” he said, shifting over and patting the seat beside him in an apparent invitation to sit down.

I smiled at him and took the seat. I thought about everything Jesse had told me about the accident and of how my brother had taken one for the team, and it made me realize that maybe Bill wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe, underneath his greasy hair, beer-belly, and unshaven face he was actually brave. I thought about what it must’ve been like for him to lose his freedom, his best friend, and his entire future in one swoop.

That thought made me realize why Bill hated the idea of Jesse and me together so much. Jesse had taken everything from him, and now, was taking me as well. More than ever, I needed to show my brother we were still a family. I had to find a way to make him know that the baby would need him just as much as I did—just as much as Jesse did.

Decided to ditch the plates, I fetched some napkins and opened the pizza box on the couch beside us. Bill smiled at the sight of his favorite flavor and reached for a slice. I followed suit, and for a moment, we ate in silence.

Then, realizing we hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks, I asked, “How is everything?”

“Okay,” he said with a shrug. “I got that position down at the gym. It’s just cleaning after the place closes, but I’m hoping, once they see how good I am, they might let me assist in some of the weightlifting classes or something.”

I nodded and smiled to show I was impressed. I was careful, however, not to say anything as he seemed to get offended when I made it look like any accomplishment of his was out of the ordinary.

“How about with you?” he queried, surprising me with his interest in my life. Maybe it was all about opportunity and giving him a chance.

That was, after all, what he claimed he was always lacking. A chance.

“Oh, it’s okay.” I sighed and took a big bite of the pizza. “My classes are getting pretty hard. I’ve always known nursing school would be tough, but I hadn’t realized it would be this complicated. I imagined it would be more about client interaction than knowing facts, you know?”

Bill nodded. “Well, you definitely have the client interaction down. With all that practice taking care of me, I’d say you’re an expert.”

I looked over, suddenly nervous that his words were an attack or an insinuation of something nasty. However, when I met his gaze, I saw that he was smiling.

He was joking!

It was hard to remember the last time he had made a joke, and I was amazed. I wondered what could have possibly had put him in this surprisingly cheerful mood. Perhaps it was this new job or the fact that Jesse was supposed to leave in a matter of days. The thought of it being because of Jesse saddened me, but I guess that’s life, right? Nothing is ever simple.

“Want to watch a movie?” I asked after a minute. I was hesitant to keep talking since that rarely ever ended well.

“Sure,” he replied. “An old favorite?”

“You bet,” I murmured back.

Bill went to the cabinet underneath the television and shuffled around until he found our battered copy of John Carpenter’s The Thing. It was the first R-rated movies we had ever seen together and one of our favorites from when we were kids. This was “R” in the eighties, mind you, when PG movies could get away with anything, and it had scared the living daylights out of us when we were young. It had also given us a sense of camaraderie for adventuring together, and that was something both of us desperately needed right now.

With the TV set up, Bill sat beside me, and it was nice. Strange as this may sound, this horrific movie actually had a calming effect on me. I suppose that after watching such indescribable grotesqueries bursting from the creatures on screen, my fears of having a normal old baby seemed silly. Perhaps we should watch Alien next. That little monster bursting from the guy’s chest would probably make giving birth seem like a walk in the park.

We laughed. We screamed. We ate. We drank—or at least, Bill did, and somehow, even if only for a moment, we found ourselves again. Before I knew it, it was midnight, and I was able to teeter up to bed.

As I gave myself to sleep, I prayed that sense of solidarity we had found today would persist through the news of my pregnancy.

Chapter 9

I woke up the next morning, only feeling slightly ill, and was perturbed to find a voice mail waiting on my phone. I assumed it was from Jesse and immediately set it to play.

To my surprise, it was from Mr. Davis, my boss at the restaurant. He was informing me that I did not need to come in today either. His tone was strange, secretive yet somehow excited, and it worried me somehow. I hoped he wasn’t going to fire me because of my behavior over the past few days.

Confused but not necessarily upset, I tiptoed down the stairs and was glad to see that Bill was still fast asleep in the living room. Quietly as I could, I went about making myself breakfast while my mind raced with thoughts about the conundrum in front of me. There were so many questions in my mind, not only about my brother’s reaction but also about every other aspect of being pregnant. It was all too much and too overwhelming.

Minutes later, I found myself seated at the table, ready to enjoy a delicious meal. As a companion, I pulled out my phone and began to browse articles on pregnancy and motherhood. I felt slightly ridiculous reading those, but to feel ridiculous was better than to feel ashamed—which was how I felt when I started reading the articles on abortion.

In all honesty, I did not want to give up the baby. I’d always wanted to be a mother. I loved taking care of people, which was why I chose nursing as my profession. It was also, what made me a good waitress and what enabled me to put up with my brother for so long. Though I was far from perfect, I at least thought I was sensible and patient enough to deal with a baby. I thought I could add something beautiful to this broken world.

The biggest issue, however, was the money. It was always the money in this household. Bill and I could barely afford ourselves, let alone another mouth to feed. His new job would help, but he had lost so many in the past five years that I couldn’t rely on him for stability. I realized with a pang that I would also have to give up my classes. There was no way I could study to be a nurse, work and raise a baby.

It all, I realized, depended on Jesse. He had said he would man up and do what was right, but I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. It could mean any number of things: splitting the abortion with me, sending checks once a month, staying with me as a couple. It could even mean…

No. I stopped myself. The possibility was too good to even to think about, and I knew that if I allowed myself to dream that way and it didn’t happen, my heart would break. And my heart needed to stay strong.

For the baby.

Just then, as I was forcing myself to push that beautiful, scary thought out of my mind, there was a knock on the door.

“Shhhh!” I hissed irately, annoyed at whoever was showing up at this ungodly hour, and looked at the microwave clock. It read eleven in the morning.

Oops. Good thing Mr. Davis had called and freed me from work today.

Hustling to the door while also being careful not to wake my brother, I peered through the peephole. Outside, with a bundle flowers and looking extremely nervous, was Jesse.

In an instant, my heart seemed to turn into a bird and flutter up through my chest.

“Hi,” I whispered as I opened the door to let him in.

My lips pulled up into a smile at the sight of him, and, as quietly as I could, I threw myself into a long, comforting embrace. Jesse kissed me and then shuffled inside practically carrying me.

“Good morning, Mary,” he said. “You look beautiful today.”

I was pretty sure I still had pizza grease on my face, and my hair was not even brushed, but I could still tell he was honest. It made me chuckle as he geared up to continue.

“I’m sorry for running off—”

“Shhh,” I interrupted. “Bill is still asleep.”

“Okay,” he said, whispering this time. “I’m sorry for running off like that yesterday. I needed to think, and there were a couple of really important things I wanted to do.”

“It’s okay,” I said, completely meaning it. “It’s a lot to take in, and I ended up having a great day with Bill.”

He fumbled for something in his pocket. “I’m glad, and yes, it was a lot to take in. However, we’re not done yet. I have one more thing for you to take in.”

With that, he placed the flowers on the table and sank to his knees.

“What do you—oh my God, Jesse!”

He smiled at the surprise on my face and opened a small jewelry box containing an incredible diamond ring. He paused a moment, as if gathering up his courage, then, at last, he asked, “Mary Taft, will you marry me?”

I felt the ground wobble beneath me as if God had taken the fabric of the Earth and given it a shake just for fun. Tears brimmed in my eyes as overwhelming happiness filled me. My heart got lodged in my throat. It felt so big I had trouble responding, which caused great fear to be born in Jesse’s eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I thought this is what you wanted—”

In his fear, I found a laugh. And my voice.

“I do. I do!” I cried. “Oh my God, Jesse. I would love to marry you.”

With that, he slipped the ring upon my finger and leaped to his feet. He scooped me up in a tremendous embrace and twirled me around the room.

Tears leaked from my eyes, and my smile was so broad it almost hurt. Unable to help myself, I squealed with joy, and that was, I assumed, what finally woke Bill up.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, stumbling from the living room couch and blinking blearily at us. As soon as his eyes cleared, I saw them focus on the flowers on the table, the ring on my finger, and the smiles on both my and Jesse’s face.

“He…he proposed?” he growled, glowering at me.

“C’mon, Bill,” interjected Jesse, jumping between us. “I love your sister, and—”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” he hissed and shoved right past Jesse as if he were not even there as he continued to fix his petrifying gaze only on me.

“Well…” I said, far too timidly, “as Jesse said, we love each other, and…” I took a steadying breath, and said, “Bill, I’m pregnant.”

“What?” he erupted, outraged. His voice lost its menacing growl and became a full-out bellow of anger. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re going to have his baby? That’s it then, Mary, your life is over. You’re selling your soul to the likes of him—”

“No, Bill!” I cried, finding my courage. “I am getting a life. A new one, because since the day you got arrested my life has been over, too. You’re not the only one who’s suffered.”

“Do you know what he did to me?” my brother raged. His face was crimson, the veins in his forehead throbbing. “That good-for-nothing coward ran away and left me in the dust.”

“She knows, Bill,” said Jesse quietly. “I told her everything.”

He seemed to swell up like a frog, panting with rage and anger. “That just makes you even more of a stupid cunt,” he thundered. “He’ll leave you, too, Mary! He’ll use you, then toss you aside like the cock-sucking whore you are.”

“Don’t you talk to her that way,” Jesse growled, his voice low and menacing.

“But that’s what she is. Didn’t want to use the condom, huh, sweetie? What, you like the feel of him too much? You slut! You bimbo! You skank! You cock sucker—”

Boom!

Jesse’s fist connected with Bill’s jaw sending him a good three feet through the air before collapsing into a heap on the floor. I gaped at Jesse in horror and then leaped in front of him before he could attack my brother again. All of a sudden those massive, NFL muscles didn’t seem sexy. They seemed menacing and powerful.

Bill blinked at us, clutching a bleeding lip. He was no longer shouting, but when he spoke, his voice was venomous and worse than ever before. “If you marry him, Mary,” he snarled, his mouth dripping with blood and tears of range, “then I swear to God we’re not brother and sister anymore. I swear to God.”

As he staggered to his feet, I made to help him, but he swiped his hand at me like a snake, knocking mine away. Still seething, he staggered up the stairs and into his room. The door, like a guillotine striking wood, slammed down behind him.

The silence that followed echoed inside the newly formed cavity of my heart. I turned to Jesse, who was breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” I murmured as I approached him. My hand cupped his cheek, and I gave him a kiss. Then, after I’d pulled away, I took his hand in mine and placed the engagement ring in his palm.

He gazed at me in horror.

“Does…does that mean you’re saying no?”

“No,” I said, closing his fingers around the ring. “It just means not yet. This will only work if Bill is okay with it. It’ll only work if we’re in it together, as a family.”

He seemed hurt and confused as he asked, “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

I turned to go up the stairs, but Jesse grabbed my hand.

“Wait,” he said. “He was pretty upset. Shouldn’t you let him calm down or something?”

He had a point. I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. My heart gave an impatient throb letting me know I was dawdling when I shouldn’t be.

“No,” I said. “Something tells me the best time to talk to him is now.”

Taking a deep breath, Jesse released me and watched as I made my way up the stairs.

Bill’s door was closed. Insistently, I knocked and awaited his reply.

Nothing.

I knocked louder and faster, but still, nothing happened.

“Bill?” I called, but there was no response. “Bill!” I yelled it this time. For some reason, my heart began to race. I continued to call his name and hammer on the door, but when still nothing happened, I disregarded his need for privacy and seized the knob to wrench the door open.

Due to my weekly cleaning schedule, I knew Bill’s room by heart. To the left of the door was a small bookshelf, filled with mostly comics, knickknacks, and several football trophies. To the right of the door was the crumpled heap of wrinkled sheets he called a bed. The bulk of the room, however, was dedicated to exercise equipment, most of which he never used. There was a treadmill, a bench press, a mat surrounded by dumbbell weights, and attached to the far wall, hanging from a metal band installed by my father years ago, he had a long, thick exercise rope.

Hanging from this rope—legs twitching, eyes bulging—was my brother.

“Jesse!” I screamed. “Jesse! Oh God, come here! Now!”

“What is it? What is it?” he cried from the stairs, but I was too horrified to respond. Moments later, Jesse burst into Bill’s room and saw my brother’s dangling body. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered as he dashed right to him.

Seizing him about the waist, Jesse lifted Bill up so that the rope was no longer putting pressure on his arteries. “Find something to cut the rope!” he roared, as my brother’s skin grew blue. “Hurry!”

I looked around the room, but my brain refused to work. It felt like an oiled ball, left to spin round and round in tumultuous water.

“Damn it, Mary! Hurry up!” cried Jesse, finally sobering me up.

“Right! Right!” I stammered and dashed down the stairs. I flung open the second drawer on our kitchen counter and retrieved a pair of scissors. Holding them tightly in my trembling hands, I bolted back to Bill’s room. “Here!” I cried, brandishing the scissors in the air.

“Cut! Cut!” Jesse ordered, swinging my brother’s body so that the back of the rope was to me.

Blinking tears from my eyes, I rushed to him and began hacking away at the rope with the scissors. It was a dastardly, devilish thing meant for taking weight and strain, and it took me about thirty seconds to cut the fucking thing through.

Then, at last, my brother was free.

Bill sagged to the floor, clutching at his neck, ripping away at the ropes that were still there like one would claw away a snake. His eyes watered as the skin beneath the rope grew purple and bruised. He toppled onto his side, gasping and retching. I flew to him, placing my hands on him, holding him, comforting him.

“What were you thinking?” I sobbed, and squeezed his hands, his arms, as if checking to see that he was real. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

But he did not answer. Instead, he pressed himself against me and wept.

Chapter 10

Six hours later, I found myself sitting on a hard, plastic chair outside a curtained room in the emergency ward. My brother’s neck was bruised, but luckily, there was no permanent damage. The doctors weren’t holding him here because of his physical injuries, but because of his mental ones.

My brother, Bill Taft, local football legend, prom king, and possibly the most popular man of his graduating class, was on Suicide Watch.

How on Earth did it come to this?

Guilt overtook me, and for the umpteenth time, tears streamed from my eyes. I held my hands to my face, and then, in a fit of impotence and frustration, I slammed them against the plastic seat.

“What is it, Mary?” Jesse asked, taking my hands in his before I could slam them against the chair again. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? I wanted to scream. What’s wrong? Everything, you idiot!

But instead, my voice came out as barely a whisper: “It’s all my fault.”

“No,” he murmured. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is!” I snapped. “All of it. If we hadn’t gotten together, if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, none of this would’ve happened. Everything would’ve stayed normal.”

“Was it normal, though?” he asked quietly. “Think of it, you and your brother, before I arrived. Was any of that normal? Was any of it good?”

I inhaled deeply, trying to fight back my tears. “Some of it, maybe…there were moments…” Frustrated, I groaned and added, “It might not have been good, but it was never so bad he had a rope around his neck.”

Jesse exhaled and looked deep into my eyes. When he spoke, his tone was firm, but kind. “Your brother has been walking closer and closer to the edge of a cliff for years. Just because you were standing beside him when he fell does not make it your fault. In fact, I bet he only made it this far because of you. This is not your fault. You hear me?”

Swallowing a sob, I nodded and threw myself into his arms. He held me while I cried until I could cry no more. Sometime during my wallowing, I felt his hand worm its way gently under my arm to cup my tummy.

“If it’s the last thing I do,” he said, “I will find a way to make this baby’s life amazing.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I drifted off into a weary, troubled sleep. When I awoke, I found myself in Jesse’s hotel room. He had removed my shoes, but I was otherwise clothed, lying in his bed.

“Jesse?” I asked, blinking and looking around.

“Right here,” he replied from the little kitchen in the hotel room. He approached with two steaming mugs in his hands. “Would you like some tea?” he asked, gently holding one of the mugs in my direction. “I double checked. This one is okay for pregnant women.”

I nodded and gratefully took the cup from him. Careful not to spill any, I wriggled my way into a sitting position on the bed and took my first scalding sip. Though it was hot, it was sweet and soothing—his gesture just as much as the tea.

He sat down beside me and said, “I am so sorry to have put you through all of this.”

“Jesse,” I started, “you have been nothing but a comfort since you entered—or, reentered—my life. There’s absolutely nothing to apologize.”

We kissed and sipped our tea in silence. After several moments, he placed his mug down and turned to face me.

“You, my dear, look like someone who could use a massage,” he said.

“Oh,” I murmured, embarrassed. “You don’t need too. I wouldn’t want a trouble you—”

He silenced me with a kiss.

“No trouble,” he said. “None at all. Now roll on your back.”

After carefully placing my mug down on the end table, I obeyed. Gently, Jesse mounted me, placing his knees on either side of my butt. Mindful of the fabric on my shirt, he lifted it up and over my shoulders so that my back was exposed to him and, in a single motion, he unhooked my bra. The sense of relief and relaxation this brought was immediate.

Then his warm hands began massaging my back.

“Where did you learn to do this?” I whispered, overcome with soft, luxurious pleasure.

He chuckled. “When you train as much as I do, you learn how to treat tired muscles. Now, let’s find out where you carry your stress.”

His fingertips traced the outline of my muscles. They caressed my shoulder blades, flowed down the valley of my spine, and pressed on either side of my love handles. At last, his thumb pressed down, right over the spot at the middle of my back where my bra strap sits.

“Ahhh,” I gasped, without even realizing it. I sensed Jesse smiling as he kissed the back of my neck.

“Right there,” Jesse said as he massaged beneath my shoulder blades. “Right there is where your stress is. It’s because of your tits, you know. Those nice, big, lovely tits.”

I smiled into the pillow and wiggled a bit so he could sense my breasts moving beneath me. Typically, I felt uncomfortable when guys talked about tits and pussies, but with Jesse, it was all okay. When he said those things, I could tell it was because he loved not just my body but me as well.

My stress, terrible as it was, began to slowly melt beneath Jesse’s expert touch. Soon I was entirely sprawled across the bed, my arms and legs out, my back naked before him. He did not neglect any of me. When he was finished with my back, he moved on to my arms, rubbing my shoulders and biceps, even down to my hands. Then, he went to my neck. I felt both his hands wrap around the back of my neck, just under my hairline. His power was evident, and his hands huge. If he’d wanted to, he could have strangled me in an instant, but I was not afraid. I was comfortable. So, so comfortable.

My neck. My hair. The delicate skin behind my ears. Jesse brought pleasure to everything. Then he moved down below my waist. Quickly, he removed my pants and underwear, and then cupped my butt cheeks. He rubbed and massaged my skin, before spreading my cheeks so that his fingertips could reach every part of me. Though he had not yet touched my core, I felt myself growing wet. He seemed to sense this, for he worked his way closer and closer, running his fingertips along the bottom of my butt and pressing just inches away from my opening, but he did not touch where I wanted him most.

Instead, as if saving the best for last, he moved to massage my thighs.

I was soaking wet and every sweeping motion of Jesse’s hands, down from my knees up to my core, brought with it a little ripple of pleasure. The closer he got, the wetter I became and suddenly, I found myself moaning with pleasure.

At last, Jesse took a single finger, reached between my legs. He ran it down the length of my pussy, from my clit all the way to the bottom of my opening.

I gasped.

His voice was husky when he asked, “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” I panted.

“Then roll over,” he said, and I did in an instant.

At first, he didn’t penetrate me. It wasn’t for lack of arousal. Though his boxers were still on, I could see his erection pressing to the very limit of the fabric. Instead, he bent between my legs and kissed me on my core.

“Ah, no,” I protested meekly. “I haven’t showered…need to shave…”

Jesse paused and smiled at me, the warmest, most accepting smile I had ever seen in my life. “You look beautiful,” he said, kissing my labia, “And you taste delicious.”

His lips moved to my opening, and his tongue dipped inside making me gasp. Although the pleasure was not as acute as when we fucked, it was still all encompassing as it rippled through me. His fingers caressed me, opening me up wider so he could get deeper with his tongue. His forefinger found my clit and stroked.

I moaned with pleasure, slowly rocking my hips as he brought me closer and closer to climax. My hands gripped the sheets. My breasts bounced with each deep, panting breath I inhaled. And then, his tongue moved to my clit.

“Yes, Jesse. Yes,” I cried, seizing him by the hair and pressing his head between my legs. His skill and talent were incredible. He licked me from every angle, pushed and squeezed and stroked, never too roughly, never too gently.

Moments later, I felt myself come. My whole body shook with it. Jesse paused and ran his wet lips against the inside of my thigh.

“You feel better?” he asked, a cocky grin on his face.

I manage to nod.

“Good,” he said.

Seizing me around the waist, Jesse flipped me over.

He grabbed the tops of my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the bed, where he rammed his cock into me doggy style. It was electric, it was unbelievable and it was fucking deep.

Jesse’s cock felt so huge it seemed to be delving into the full length of me, from my pussy all the way up to my chin. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back, demonstrating his power and mastery over me. I screamed with pleasure as my insides molded to take him all the way in.

Using the grip on my scalp, Jesse pulled me back and pressed my body against his. He jerked my head around and kissed me violently while his free hand grappled with my breasts. I felt utterly consumed. My mouth, my tits, my pussy, all were heightened to their peak with sexual explosions. I came again, so hard that my whole body flexed breaking his hold and slamming my torso back onto the bed.

And then he did something I had never experienced before.

Instead of rolling me back onto my stomach, he positioned me on my side, so my right hip pressed into the bed. He stretched my right leg out between his knees so that the whole length of me from shoulder to heel was splayed out beneath him. He lifted my left leg and hooked it around his waist so that my knee cinched around his hip bone, leaving me stretched, spread, and ready for him to drive inside me.

He chuckled, gave my left nipple a pinch, and plunged into my pussy.

The orgasm was almost instantaneous. I buried my scream in a pillow as I clawed and tore at the sheets. Jesse continued to pound at me, working the tip, working the shaft, slapping his balls against my inner thighs. His hand found my breast and jiggled it, now for his pleasure, with every endless penetration.

Once more, I felt myself getting close, but this time he was coming along with me—pun intended. After a few more pumps of his hips, Jesse exploded inside me, filling me with wave after wave of cum. I had never been pumped full this way. Its depth was incredible. Its strength made my whole body shake and scream as I orgasmed as well.

At last, his pounding slowed. He released his vice-like grip upon my breasts and slid his hand down the length of me, relishing in the dips and turns of my body. He slipped out of me, gave my butt a grateful pat, and collapsed onto the bed beside me.

I chuckled, nuzzling against his shoulder. “It’s good to know me being pregnant doesn’t turn you off,” I teased, breathing in the sweet smell of him.

“It definitely doesn’t. Just wait until you’re out to here,” Jesse replied, holding his hands in front of his tummy as if cupping a volleyball. “We’re going to be doing it all the time, but you’re going to be the one on top. Riding, riding, riding, every single time.”

“Hey!” I protested, outraged. “I’m perfectly happy to play cowgirl even when I’m not huge, it’s just that you always seem so insistent.”

“That I am,” he said, walking his fingers up the bridge of my nose. “That I am.”

His other hand dipped between my legs to explore my throbbing flesh. I think, if we hadn’t been so worn out by our crazy day, we would’ve gone again.

But now there were more serious things to think about.

“We have to find a way to solve this,” I said in a stern tone.

“What?” he said. “How to have sex when you’re baby huge? You stay on top, it’s easy.”

“No,” I said and rolled my eyes. “What to do about my brother.”

Jesse groaned as I expected he would. My words were certainly a mood killer.

For several minutes we lay in silent thought. Then, ever so slowly, as if I dared even think it, something occurred to me. There was no question in my mind that my idea would be dangerous for Jesse, but the way I saw it, there was only one way.

I turned toward him and kissed his lips lovingly. Then, I said in a solemn and sincere voice, “Jesse, I have a crazy idea.”

Chapter 11

All the time I spent only lounging and hanging out with Jesse made it easy to forget that he really was a celebrity. That reality came crashing down on me when he offered to give an interview at the town’s radio station and the execs accepted him on the spot. They scheduled a time within the next day, and I felt slightly guilty at their enthusiasm. I wondered how they would react to the contents of Jesse’s interview.

We spent the night before the broadcast naked in Jesse’s hotel room. Though we clung to each other, we were too nervous to have sex. Our minds were too focused on the interview awaiting us the next day. We scripted what he was going to say and then rehearsed his lines until Jesse knew them by heart. Although I would not be saying anything, I would be with him at the station. His story, after all, was irrevocably tied to my own and to my brother’s. Still, when we woke up the morning off, I was incredibly tense.

In a thoughtful gesture, Jesse requested a scrumptious breakfast through room service, but we only ate a few bites. I blamed morning sickness. Jesse didn’t have such a convenient excuse. He was nervous, plain and simple.

After our little meal, we began getting dressed. It was funny. We would be talking over the radio, and therefore, no one would see us. Still, for some reason, I felt the need to put on my most carefully-adorned makeup and my loveliest dress. Jesse had chosen to abandon his usually colored tee and blue jeans getup for a full-fledged suit, with a tie that matched my dress. I realized we were borrowing confidence from our appearance. If we looked respectable, maybe, somehow, we could feel respectable.

We left the hotel an hour too early and stopped at the hospital to check on Bill. He refused to see me, but the doctors assured me he was fine—or as fine as one could be in his situation. Just to be safe, Jesse tipped the nurse a fifty-dollar bill to make sure the radio was on the right station and within Bill’s hearing when our broadcast started.

I really, really hoped he would listen. Being in peace with him would undoubtedly relief some of the stress I was feeling, which was a good thing since I was a bit nervous about the effects it would have on the baby. I prayed that, once the broadcast was over, we would finally find some peace in our lives so I could focus on what I knew I was meant to do: have Jesse’s child.

As the car parked in front of the radio station, I gulped and reapplied my lipstick for what was probably the eightieth time. I licked my lips when I was nervous, so after only a few minutes, it was like I had not been wearing any at all.

Jesse sensed my growing frenzy and soothed me with a kiss on the cheek. “It’ll be okay,” he promised, his forehead touching mine. “It’ll all be okay.”

My God, I love him, I thought. Here he was, giving me strength when his head was the one going up to the chopping block.

Strangely enough, I found great comfort in that thought.

“It’s time,” he announced at last. “You ready?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “And Jess? Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips and got out of the car. The radio station was crowded when we arrived. Apparently, everyone who worked there, and their families, wanted an opportunity to meet Jesse Valen. I was glad we had taken the time to dress well since before we were ten feet through the front door and into the atrium, at least three little kids rushed up to us with their cell phones and began taking pictures.

Crazy as it may sound, I, at the moment, felt like a movie star.

After a couple minutes of pure madness, the broadcaster appeared. He was a big, genial guy who looked like John Goodman in blue jeans and a football jersey—a Jets jersey, of course. He parted the crowd, hollering good-naturedly at everyone, and then ushered us into a smaller, more private room.

“Hello, hello! I’m Tom Liyfest, your interviewer for today.” He shook our hands vigorously. “And you’re Jesse Valen, of course. Everyone knows who you are.” The man beamed at Jesse and then turned, slightly confused, toward me. “And you…?”

“My moral support,” Jesse interjected. “Please, Mr. Liyfest—”

“Oh, Jesse. Call me, Tom.”

“Okay, Tom. This is Mary, my girlfriend. I would prefer that she be in there with me when I give the interview. Is that okay?”

The broadcaster laughed and clapped Jesse on the back. “Of course. Of course! Anything you say, my boy. Should I hook her up, too? Is she speaking?”

Jesse looked at me, and I shook my head in a vigorous “no.” Now that the moment was finally upon us, my nervousness consumed me. It threatened to claw its way up through my stomach and into my throat, choking me like a solid mass.

On the other hand, Jesse seemed entirely at ease—much more so than he had been in the hotel room. I wondered if this was what he was like during football games: nervous up until the whistle blew, and then flawless.

Tom led us inside his sound studio. There were microphones everywhere, surrounded by several long, comfortable couches so that whoever was being interviewed could sit comfortably. My heart lightened at the knowledge that I would be able to sit with Jesse and hold his hand.

Again, even in this terrifying moment for him, he still had strength enough to spare for me.

When Tom wasn’t looking, I snuck him the quickest of kisses. Jesse squeezed my hand, and we sat. Some technician adjusted the microphone so that it was positioned directly in front of his lips. Every word of his, every breath, would be heard.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply. Here it goes…

“You ready?” Tom whispered, giving us the thumbs up. “Three…two…one…and live!”

A little red light flicked on just above the microphone as the rest of the lamps in the room dimmed. We were alone. Alone with our voices.

“Good morning, good morning, good morning everyone! This is Tom Liyfest, bringing you the latest news and local gossip on Star 93.8, New York’s number one talk show station. Today we have a very special guest. He is not only a local legend but a celebrity of growing national fame, attracting both the coaches’ and the nation’s eyes in only his second year with the NFL. May I introduce, the one, the only, Jesse Valen!”

Through the headphones, I could hear a fanfare playing as if Jesse was walking onto the soundstage and being greeted by an entire orchestra. In reality, it was just him and a small, sad smile on his face.

“Good morning, everyone,” Jesse said, seeming entirely at home in this celebrity atmosphere. “This is Jesse Valen, folks, and I’m thrilled to be back in my hometown to celebrate with you before the preseason starts.”

“And we are honored to have you, Jesse,” Tom exclaimed. “You certainly have a lot to celebrate. Twenty-five years old, and you are already being fought over by three different NFL coaches—”

“Thank you very much, Tom,” Jesse interrupted, “Yeah, all of that is great, but I am actually not here to talk about football.”

Tom blinked at us, opening and closing his mouth several times, looking like a goldfish, before he put his hand over the microphone, leaned toward us, and whispered, “Um…what?”

“You heard me right, Tom,” Jesse said. “I’m actually here to talk about something much more important than football.” There was a baffled silence, after which Jesse laughed and said, “Yes, Tom, believe it or not, there are things more important to me than football.”

His voice suddenly lost its playful tone. He became serious and, after a reassuring squeeze from my hand, Jesse leaned into the microphone as if confiding a great secret.

“You see, folks,” he started, “I am here to talk about two people who are very near and dear to me. Everybody treats me like I’m some sort of hero. They think that because I’m pretty good at football, I’m better, or stronger, than everyone else. But I’m here to tell you that these two friends of mine are the strongest and bravest people I know.”

He paused and looked at me. Unbidden, I felt my eyes start to water.

Still holding my gaze, he continued, “The first one is Bill Taft. He was a local legend here as well, a star running back on my high school team and the only guy I know who could outrun me. Some of you may remember the scandal he was caught in about five years ago. He was arrested for a DUI after crashing his car. A girl was injured, but nobody was severely hurt—except for Bill.

“Although he wasn’t physically hurt, the damage to his future seemed irreparable. He lost his scholarship, was booted off the team and waved goodbye to whatever chance he had of playing the NFL —and the trust me, his chances were greater than mine. His whole future was ruined by a single, stupid, young man’s mistake and everyone, everywhere, thought he was a loser. However, because I lacked Bill Taft’s bravery, there is one part of the story nobody else knows, no one except for me. It’s time that stops. It’s time people know the truth.”

Jesse took a short pause and several deep breaths. His hand squeezed mine until it was cold and white, but I didn’t pull away. I decided to be brave as well and give him the comfort he always gave me.

After a few seconds of dead silence, Jesse continued, “The truth is, ladies and gentlemen, that I was in the car, too. I was as drunk as Bill was and begged him to drive because I was not up to the responsibility of dealing with the consequences of doing so myself. I was in the car when he crashed it, and I saw…”

For a moment, his voice wavered. I could see silent tears forming in his closed eyes, and they broke my heart.

Jesse cleared his throat and continued, “I saw that Bill was trapped and that the girl was hurt—not terribly, but still … I also saw the police arriving and that out of the three of us, I had a way out. I could run. And so I did.

“As a result of that night, Bill’s future was ruined, and mine skyrocketed to fame and fortune. Once the initial terror had passed, I returned to Bill and begged him to let me give myself up, but he wouldn’t let me. He was stronger, and more selfless, than I ever have been.

“Though my career might suggest otherwise, that night, I felt as if my life ended just as thoroughly as Bill’s did.”

He paused. My hand stayed in his because I knew he was not finished. Tom gazed at us, his mouth hanging slightly open, completely forgetting about the microphone in front of his face. After at least a full minute, so that the severity of the situation could sink in, Jesse resumed his public confession.

“You may be wondering why I am sharing this with of all of you,” he said in a much steadier voice. “It is because I am tired of running. As you may remember, at the beginning of this speech I mentioned I would talk about two people I love. The first was Bill. The second is his sister, Mary Taft.”

Jesse glanced at me, and I smiled at him. “The life of an NFL star is filled with parties and celebrities and beautiful women, but I felt incomplete and empty until Mary Taft came back into my life. She filled a void that I thought was unfillable and brought comfort to my soul, which I thought had been permanently damaged. She is sitting here beside me, and I just wanted to say, for all to hear, that I love her more than I’ve loved anyone in my entire life. I want her to be my wife so I can be with her every moment until the day I die.

“But even this, ladies and gentlemen, is not the most fantastic news I have to share.” Finally, the tension in his face slipped away, and he smiled. “It is with great joy and utmost dedication that I tell you that Mary and I are having a baby. We’re bringing a new life into this world, and I want him or her to be born into a family of love and acceptance, not of guilt and secrets. So I’m setting the record straight. No more lies and no more cowardice. It is time for me to grow up and be the man my child needs me to be.”

Across from us, Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Jesse wasn’t done. He raised a hand to stop the man and continued, “And Bill—I pray that you are listening—it’s time for you to become the man you were always meant to be. I’m so sorry for what happened, but it is not too late. That is what Mary has taught me. That is what this baby has taught me. That there is always hope for the future and, if you allow it, I would like to be part of your future.

“Thank you, everybody. This is Jesse Valen, wishing you a great day.”

With that, he reached up with perfect precision and switched off his microphone. He smiled, pushed it away from his face, and offered me his hand as he stood. I expected to be unsteady when I rose, perhaps even to fall over, but I was as sturdy and vigorous as he was. It was evident to me: together, we made each other stronger.

Seeing that we were about to leave, Tom gestured wildly for us to return to our seats, but we only smiled, bowed in unison, and then left the room. Just as the door was closing behind us, I heard Tom say, almost shakily, “Well, folks, that was certainly exciting news, but we turn to our callers now. Let’s get some reactions to this fantastic bit of insight into the life of our local hero—”

Then the door closed and everything, all of it, disappeared in an instant.

Outside, the crowd of well-wishers was still waiting. When they saw us, they erupted into cheers.

“What a man you’ve landed, huh? What a man!” some lady cried as she dashed up to me and shook my hand.

Another person, this time an old man, marched straight up to Jesse and clapped him on the shoulder. “I think what you did was very brave, son,” he said. “I’m sure Bill will forgive you now.”

“Thank you,” Jesse murmured, so humbled and quiet that one would never have guessed he was a national celebrity.

Together, and after many congratulations and well-wishes—including some that featured strangers touching my stomach—we made our way out of the radio station and back to the car. It was only there, in the privacy of its hooded interior, that I gave Jesse a long, deep, and passionate kiss. I felt a warmth blooming in between my legs, and sensed his kissing growing urgent.

“Back to the hotel?” he asked, coming up for air after a minute.

“Back to the hotel,” I replied.

In a Freaky Friday moment, he asked, “But what about Bill?”

“I think, for now, we wait,” I said, a little amazed that he was bringing up my brother now. “You gave your apology. The ball is in his court now.”

He nodded, kissed me again, and slid his hands between my legs as a promise of what was to come. “Okay, time to get my balls in your court, then.’

“Agreed. Now drive, you bastard! Drive!” I cried, throwing my hand into the air and laughing wildly.

With a cocky grin and a chuckle, Jesse threw the car into drive and floored it. We burst from the driveway and careened as fast as that hundred-grant car would go back to the hotel.

Chapter 12

For a solid week, we were all anybody was talking about. People stopped us on the street to ask about our relationship, the baby, and how we planned to deal with Jesse’s crazy NFL schedule. All these queries, however, were nothing more than soothing raindrops on a warm summer’s day. We answered all of them with humor, earnestness, and without anything to hide.

The only questions that made us feel perturbed at all were the questions about Bill. We still hadn’t heard from him. True to our agreement in the car, we had stayed away from the hospital knowing that if he wanted to see us, he would come find us.

As nice as the attention was, we soon grew tired of it and decided to have a small, low-key wedding. To make up for all my missed days of work and the fact that I was quitting, we asked Mr. Davis if we could have it at the restaurant and he obviously said yes. It was a beautiful, comfortable and familiar place that would fit all our friends and loved ones—hopefully, as we were still waiting on Bill’s confirmation.

I bought my dress at a local seamstress’s shop. Jesse gave me no price limit and told I could buy my dress anywhere, even at the most expensive boutiques, but I liked giving the old lady my business. She did an excellent job, and her little shop boomed when word got out that she had made the wedding dress of Mary Taft, soon-to-be wife of Jesse Valen. Knowing that I was sharing my newly found happiness with good people, made me feel splendid and put another layer of happiness into our wedding.

Though I was super busy, I continued to go to my nursing classes. It was still my dream, and it was a heck of a lot easier to focus on my studies when I wasn’t consumed by working overtime. However, when it came time for my wedding, I made sure to take the week off to enjoy the festivities.

The days leading up to the wedding were frenzied, but at the same time extremely enjoyable. My life before Jesse had been so stressful that even something as toilsome as planning a wedding was as easy as a walk in the park. Contrary to custom, Jesse and I spent most of the time together, laughing and joking as we usually did.

When the day of the wedding finally arrived, I was calm and ready to start my new life with my husband. I stood in the kitchen, having the other waitresses fuss with my hair and makeup, and looked through the pass-through window.

There weren’t too many people present, just my close friends from the restaurant and college, as well as some of Jesse’s teammates and family. The restaurant was almost unrecognizable with flowers and ribbons everywhere giving it a fairytale grotto feel to the usual plain honey-colored walls. However, as beautiful as the room was, nothing compared to the sight of Jesse waiting for me between two long rows of tables.

My lips curled up into a smile as our wedding song blasted through the sound system of the restaurant announcing my arrival. As the girls wished me luck and disappeared through the kitchen doors, I took a deep breath, saddened only by the thought that there was no one to walk me down the aisle.

Just then, however, I heard a scuffle outside. There were a few gasps, a man shouting curses, and then the sound of China being knocked aside. Fearfully, I poked my head out of the kitchen door only to nearly collide with—

“Bill!” I cried, leaping to embrace him.

He looked incredibly handsome in his suit and, for the first time in years, I felt so happy and proud to be his sister.

“Did I miss it? Did I miss it?” he asked frantically, clearly out of breath.

“No,” I said. “You’re just in time. Want to walk me down the aisle?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said with a proud smile as he took me by the arm. At the bar, someone reset the music announcing, once again, my arrival.

Bill and I walked towards the makeshift altar where Jesse waited for me with our arms interlocked. We strutted in a slow and steady pace, both relishing the precious moment of joy. I finally had my beloved brother back and the man I had always loved. My heart swelled with a joy I never thought I could experience in my lifetime.

My gaze focused on Jesse and I couldn’t help but return the silly grin on his face. Although my eyes were too watery and blurry to see anything properly, I could have sworn that actual tears were brimming in his eyes. Bill must have noticed how overcome with emotion the two of us were because I heard him chuckling quietly to himself.

When we finally arrived in front of Jesse, Bill surprised everyone by folding his arms around his friend in a backbreaking embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Jesse replied, and now I was sure there were tears in his peepers.

When their embrace reached an awkward length of time, someone in the audience cried, “Hey, buddy. Leave it to the bride, why don’t ya?”

Everybody laughed. Bill, blushed slightly, pulled away and took a seat at the closest table.

Now it was just Jesse standing at the altar along with me.

The priest opened his arms to us and started to speak. I could tell his words were beautiful and moving, but I could not hear any of them. I was totally lost in Jesse’s eyes.

Then, as if from a distance, I heard the priest say, “Do you, Jesse Terrence Valen, take Mary Elizabeth Taft to be your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” said Jesse, and it was like a sweet rumble of thunder on a hot summer’s night.

The priest then turned to me. “And do you, Mary Elizabeth Taft, take Jesse Terrence Valen to be your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” I whispered. For some reason, even though we were in a closed room, I suddenly felt like I was standing under the sun with a gentle breeze blowing against my skin.

Jesse and I smiled at each other as the priest said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

And, as if we had never kissed before and were enjoying each other’s touch for the first time, we kissed. It was incredible, like two beings being swept together, intertwined, woven in and out of each other’s souls until there was no difference between us.

“I love you,” I murmured as we pulled apart.

“I love you, too,” Jesse—my Jesse Valen—whispered back as our foreheads rested against each other’s.

The audience erupted into cheers as we turned to face them for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Valen.

The rest of the wedding passed in a happy blur. Although my memory was somewhat splotchy, I remembered all my friends and loved ones kissing and congratulating us. I remembered members of the New York Jets lifting Jesse up on their shoulders and carrying him around as if he weighed nothing, and my new husband getting protective when they tried to do the same to me.

My clearest memory of the ceremony, however, was a conversation we had with Bill near the end of the night. Jesse sat down beside him, sweaty, exhausted, but handsome as ever, and clapped Bill on the back.

“I’m so glad you came, my friend,” he said, his sincerity as great as his grin.

Bill smiled as well, but his was shy and almost embarrassed. “Me, too.”

“Now that we’re speaking again, I wanted to talk to you about an opportunity you might be interested in.” Both Bill’s and my brows furrowed at Jesse’s words as he continued, “I’m good friends with a coach from the minor leagues. I told him your story and how good you were in high school, and he’s willing to give you a try for next season. Obviously, you’ll have to get back in shape and do some training, but the opportunity is there if you’re interested.”

A smile spread across Bill’s face. It was the first unfettered, genuine smile I’d seen him give in a long time.

“Hell yes!” he exclaimed and poured himself another drink. Just then, one of my good-looking waitressing friends walked over and asked him for a dance. I was thrilled to watch his smile grow even broader.

Choking up with emotion, I made my way outside. Although mine were tears of happiness, of course, I knew they’d ruin my makeup just the same and therefore I didn’t want anyone to see them. As I breathed deeply, gaining control of my joy, I surveyed the outside of the restaurant where I’d spent so many nights smoking cigarettes with my friends and talking about impossible dreams. It made my heart flutter as I realized that mine had come true.

I was going to be a mother. I was married to the most amazing man in the world. I was getting to be friends with my brother again, even after everything that had happened.

Just as I relished on that wonderfulness, Jesse appeared and broke through my reverie. With his hands in his tuxedo pockets, he leaned on the wall beside me.

“You needed a break too, huh?” he asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

I chuckled. “Not a break, exactly. More like…some time for reflection.”

“I see…and what were you reflecting about?”

“Just that there’s nothing in the world that could ever make me happier than I am at this moment. This is the best night of my life.”

I expected him to be moved, or serious, or at least sincere. However, when I looked at him, I saw a teasing, humorous, cocky grin.

“What?” I demanded, baffled.

“I can think of something that would make this night even better,” he said.

“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

He took my hand in his and, at first, brought it to his lips. He gave me a gentle kiss, like a proper gentleman. Then, with one quick swoop, he brought my appendage down between his legs and pressed it against his hardening cock.

“That,” his murmured.

I grinned as a devilish pleasure blossomed inside me, and asked, “To the hotel?”

“To the hotel.”

Chapter 13

Approximately Eight Months Later

“Come on, Jesse. Hurry up. We’re going to be late!” I called to my husband, squeezing my way out the front door. It was ironic that he should be the one holding us up, considering I was roughly the size and shape of a beluga whale.

“You got everything?” he asked, heaving our cooler into his brand new family car.

“Yes,” I groaned, feigning annoyance at his concern.

“Your cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“The charger?”

“Yes.”

“The doctor’s emergency number?”

“Yes! Jesse, it’ll be fine.”

He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I know,” he said shaking his head. “It’s funny. The biggest tackles in the NFL don’t scare me as much as your belly does right now.”

I chuckled. My due date was three days ago, and since then, Jesse’s nervousness had only increased. Still, I felt fine, and neither of us wanted to miss the big night. Therefore, we piled into the car, buckled ourselves in—me with some difficulty considering the size of my stomach—and set off.

The game was only twenty minutes away. I was excited, but not as much as Jesse, I thought. I don’t believe that even the actual players and fans were as excited as him.

Once we finally arrived at the stadium, I was impressed with how many people there were. Obviously, the crowd wasn’t a massive as an NFL game, but it was still impressive. Jesse had gotten us awesome seats right up against the field, so we were able to see every player pour into the stadium.

“Can you see him? Can you see him?” Jesse demanded, practically leaping out of his seat.

“There he is.” I cried. “There he is! Bill! Hey, Bill!”

The fanfare of the marching band and the height of the excitement was too great for Bill to hear me. But I continued to yell and wave my hands as he ran out with the rest of his team, his helmet on and his shoulder pads making him look enormous.

“I’m so proud of him,” I exclaimed, grinning so hard it hurt.

“Me too,” Jesse yelled and then kissed me. “Look, honey. Look! I think he’s starting!”

Sure enough, Bill walked onto the field as part of the starting lineup, looking slightly nervous but still tall and athletic and wonderful.

The whistle blew. The game was on!

“Go, Bill! Go! Go!” Jesse screamed, practically hanging over the end of his seat as a play placed the ball in Bill’s hands. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I assumed he scored a touchdown.

One I, unfortunately, did not see.

“Mary, honey?” Jesse asked, noticing my pallor. “What’s wrong?”

I looked down between my legs in horror and amazement. Then, in a surprisingly calm tone, I said, “I think my water broke.”

Jesse blinked dumbly at me for a second. “Your water broke? Oh, shit! Your water broke! We gotta get you to the hospital right now!”

“That would be the plan,” I said mildly, smiling at him.

Completely frantic, he scooped up all our things in a single sweep of his arms and asked, “Can you walk?”

Carefully, I tested my legs and was glad when I realized they were working properly.

“Yes, they’re fine. Wet, but fine,” I said thoroughly embarrassed about the big wet spot on my pants.

Always considerate, Jesse quickly pulled his sweatshirt up over his head and handed it to me. I tied it around my waist to hide the mess, and together we made our way to the car.

Giving birth was hard, though not as hard as some of the stories I had read online. Thank goodness! As for Jesse, he was a trooper. He stood beside me the whole time, holding my hand and cheering me on as if I were playing a football game and not pushing a human out of my vagina, but it was sweet, and I loved him for it. When the time came, he even waited between my legs to catch the baby.

In a red blur of pain, I felt a sense of massive, slipping relief and heard the squeal of the baby. Jesse emerged a couple seconds later, holding the little, bloodstained thing in his arms.

“What is it?” I asked. “A boy or girl?”

“A boy,” he said, his voice trembling with awe.

“A boy…is he healthy? Let me see.”

“Looks like it,” the doctor replied, appearing behind Jesse. “Ten fingers and ten toes, just as it should be.”

“Good,” I said as Jesse placed the little nugget into my arms.

As I looked down at my son, tears filled my eyes. He was by far the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. My heart swelled with the intensity of the love I felt for him. It was different than any sort of love I’d felt before. I loved Jesse, of course, and Bill, but this…nothing, anywhere, could ever compare.

“We have a son,” I said completely in awe.

“Yep, we do,” Jesse replied with a trembling voice.

I kissed my son’s deliciously yucky head before handing him to the waiting nurse. Then, I passed out from exertion.

When I finally woke up, we were in a room, and Jesse was sitting on the edge of my bed with our baby in his arms. It was, undoubtedly, the sexiest sight in the world.

“Two of my favorite boys,” I said.

Jesse took his eyes from our baby to look at me. “One of them needs a name.”

“That he does,” I agree as I took him from my husband’s arms. He looked so peaceful sleeping with his tiny hand pressed against the side of his bald head.

A knock at the door interrupted our little family moment. Both of us turned to the door as a nurse poked her head in to tell us that there was a family member here to see us. Confused, we told the nurse to let them in.

Seconds later, Bill entered the room. He was in a clean hospital uniform, but the dirt smudged on his cheek showed that he had in fact just been playing football.

“Bill!” I exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be at your game.”

“Please, little sis!” He laughed. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

“Actually,” Jesse said, “I’m really glad you’re here. We were just having a crucial conversation. We could use your input.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“We were discussing what to name him,” Jesse explained.

But I interrupted. “There’s no discussion, I know what to call him, already,” I said. “I want to name him after the two most important men in my life: Jesse William Valen.”

“Jesse William Valen,” my husband echoed, the words sounding wonderful on his lips.

“Jesse William Valen,” Bill said. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

The two of them leaned in close and hugged me tight. The four of us—me, Jesse, Bill, and the baby—held each other close, relishing in the warmth and love of family.

***

END OF FIFTH STORY