Jax stared out the airplane window at the tarmac in the early-morning darkness. He’d gotten the first flight he could back to Atlanta, since coach expected him at training that day.

The plane taxied from the jetway, and the ground crew scurried like ants about their business below. He leaned his head against the wall by the window. He’d told Stacey goodbye the previous night. She’d been awkward and quiet, and he’d tried to tell her again that nothing had to change between them, but the words had stuck in his throat when he saw the guarded look on her face. He sighed. He missed her already. Missed home.

The flight was bumpy but otherwise uneventful. He’d only brought a carry-on bag with him, so as soon as the plane landed he headed for the exit and airport parking, where his Range Rover waited for him. Thoughts of that day, only two weeks ago, flashed through his mind – he’d been frantic, unable to think clearly, wanting to get back to Ardensville as quickly as possible yet dreading it at the same time.

He threw his bag in the back of the SUV and headed north, bound for Flowery Branch and the Falcons training facility. He’d be a little late, but hopefully Coach would understand.

When he pulled into the parking lot he saw a familiar figure walking the field. Jax grinned and waved as Wallace jogged to meet him. “You’re back.” he said, offering his hand, then pulling Jax into an embrace.

“I’m back.”

“Good to see you, man. You look like you’re doing well. Are you?” Wallace’s eyes were full of compassion for his friend.

“I’m getting there.”

“You better head out onto the field soon as you can. Coach is on a tear and he’s been waitin’ for you.”

Jax nodded. “I figured. Let’s go.” They parted ways, Jax jogging toward the locker room and Wallace back onto the field.

By the time he was dressed and on the field himself, Coach Jackson’s voice had become a bellow. Things weren’t going well. He’d watched the Packers game and he knew the team hadn’t played their best – they’d lost in the final minutes. And while there’d been a bye week in between, it was clear Coach wasn’t over it yet. “You finally joinin’ us, Green?” he shouted over the grunts and thuds of defenders hitting training dummies.

Jax knew better than to argue. “Yes, sir.” He strapped his helmet on.

“Get out there, boy, and catch some balls. I wanna see you running, leaping and showing me just why I took a chance on you. Got it?”

“Got it.” Jax knew he still hadn’t proven he was indispensable, though the way his backup had played against the Packers – twenty yards, two fumbles – did help. But he wanted to stay first string, and that meant work. Besides, he was aching to get into it – two weeks had felt like forever away from the game. He headed out to where Wallace and Matt Ryan were throwing passes to the running backs, did a quick warmup and stretches, and joined them.

“Good to have you back,” said Wallace.

“Thanks, man. Good to be back.”

Wallace threw him a few balls and Jax caught them easily. Then he took it up a notch and started throwing over Jax’s head, making him stretch for the catch. Jax missed the first two and got a few jibes from some linemen. He frowned – he’d get this one no matter what. He ran and looked back over his shoulder to see the pigskin sailing toward him. It’d be a stretch, but … he leaped into the air, swiveled, his arms high over his head … got it!

There was a snap in his right leg. He landed wrong and tumbled to the ground, his leg burning in pain. He writhed around, holding his calf.

“Green! What’s up, man? Hey, Coach, something’s happened to Green!” Wallace’s words sounded like they came from behind a brick wall. He was soon surrounded by people, and the trainer pried his leg out of his grasp to look it over. He shook his head. “Get the cart,” he barked, and one of the men hurried off to call it in.

Jax lay on his back, staring up at the sky. He didn’t want to test his leg out – he knew what that snap meant. Something – a ligament or tendon, most likely – had ripped loose. The pain had dulled, but if he tried to stand it’d be back with a vengeance. He was done for now. Maybe for a long time.

“I guess you’re going back home,” said Wallace with a sigh. “Sorry, man.”

Jax nodded. His dream of making the Pro Bowl was gone for this year, and when he came back he’d have to win the starting job all over again. But there was a silver lining: he could go home and see Stacey again.

Stacey leaned her elbows on her wooden desk and rested her chin in her hands. A pen spun around in front of her, slowing until finally it came to a stop. She sighed, reached for the pen and set it spinning again.

“Have you called the Chamberlains back yet?” asked Susannah, tapping her long red fingernails in a steady rhythm on her desk.

Stacey shook her head. “No. Sorry, I’ll get to that.”

“We’ve got a ton of new clients thanks to your little dance routine, so you’ve got to pitch in and help. We can’t get it all done ourselves, you know.”

“I know.”

“What’s with you today?” Susannah wondered.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re down about something. Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Jax went back to Atlanta and I’m living all alone in his big old house and it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Susannah chuckled. “Sounds to me like you’re in love.”

Stacey frowned. “I am most definitely not in love.”

“Well, honey, you just let me know and I’ll happily let you move into my cramped condo with my belching, beer-guzzling husband and take your mansion with swimming pool and Jacuzzi all to myself. Just name the date.” The phone rang, and Susannah laughed and picked it up.

Stacey smiled. It was true, she really didn’t have anything to complain about. She should just enjoy having a nice place to live and make the most of it.

Brad walked in the front door, briefcase in hand. He looked even more dapper than usual, with a new haircut that accentuated his chiseled jaw. “Hey, Stace – I wanted to talk to you about something.” He sat in the chair opposite her and leaned his elbows on her desk. “I’m moving out.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Out of Jax’s house. He’s gone back to Atlanta, so I’m going back to my apartment.”

“Oh. I figured as much.” She smiled half-heartedly.

“Don’t tell me you’ll miss me. I thought you’d be glad to see the back of me. Now you can live it up, have a slumber party and pillow fight in your PJs with all your girlfriends. You know, that kind of thing.” He winked.

She chuckled. “Yeah, because my friends and I do that all the time.”

“I don’t know what you girls get up to, but in the movies …”

“Well, if it’s in the movies …” She laughed. “Seriously, I will miss having you around.”

“I’ll miss you too. Although we do work together, so I think we’ll still see plenty of each other.”

She laughed. “That is true.”

“Look, I’ve got to go see a client now, but if I’m back in time for lunch do you want to grab some together?”

She nodded. “That sounds great.”

He selected some files from his desk and headed out the door with a quick wave over his shoulder. Stacey drew a deep breath and decided to start returning the phone calls she’d promised Susannah she’d get to. But just as she dialed the first number, the chime over the front door rang. She glanced up to see who it was, and blanched. A middle-aged woman wavered on black stiletto boots, her brown hair hanging in limp strands across her face. She wore a red miniskirt, black stockings and a tight black t-shirt. “So here you are,” she mumbled.

Stacey sighed. “Hi, Momma.”

“Good morning, chickpea.”

Momma only called her that when she was drunk. And she was most definitely drunk. The question was how Stacey could get her out of the office again. “Good morning, Momma. What can I do for you?”

“Woo-ee! Listen to you. Anyone would think you barely knew me. Come to think of it, they might be right, seeing how often you visit.”

“Come on, Momma, you know that’s not true …” Stacey glanced over at Susannah’s desk, but the other realtor was pointedly looking the other way. She was on her own.

Momma scowled. “More than at the holidays?”

She had a point. “Fine, I hear you. More time together would be … nice. Why don’t we go right now to the café across the street and I’ll buy you a coffee? We can get started with our visiting right now.”

Momma’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just tryin’ to get rid of me. You don’t want to have coffee with me.”

“Of course I do. I’ve been meaning to come see you, but I’ve just been so busy with my new job and everything.”

“And your new man,” Momma snarled.

“Yes, him too.” Perhaps it was time to tell her the truth … no. Heaven knew what she’d do with the information.

“I don’t expect you to care about me, but the least you could do is check in once in a while to make sure I’m still alive.” Momma’s voice was rising in volume.

Stacey’s heart ached. She loved her mother – they were blood, and as Dad had always said when he was still alive, blood was thicker than water. But she also knew that being around Momma wasn’t safe. You never knew what she might say next to wound you. “Momma, why don’t I take you home?”

Momma frowned. “I don’t wanna go home. I’m lookin’ for some fun.”

“I’ll make you coffee. We can even stop by the bakery – you know that little French place on the corner of First and Pine you love so much? I’ll buy you some chocolate cream croissants and we’ll sit together and eat them – how does that sound?” She used her most soothing voice and warmest smile. There were a few things she’d learned over the years of dealing with her mother, and one was just how to get her home with the least amount of noise and fuss possible.

Momma’s breaths slowed and she licked her lips. “I could eat a chocolate cream croissant.”

“Me too – I just love those things.”

She nodded. “Okay, let’s go home.”

Stacey sighed with relief, and only then noticed Susannah was staring at them, one hand on the phone as if about to call for backup. Stacey smiled at her, and Susannah’s hand shifted from the phone. No doubt the realtor had dealt with Momma before, given that Brad owned the place.

Outside, Stacey helped Momma into her car, noting that her mother’s car was nowhere in sight. She’d deal with that later, unless Momma had walked into town. It was ten miles, but you never knew what Momma might get up to when she’d been drinking.

By the time Stacey reached the bakery, Momma’s head lolled against the seat belt and her eyes were shut. Her lids flickered intermittently as though she was having a dream, and she moaned occasionally. Stacey got the croissants herself, letting Momma sleep in the car, then headed for Bright Lake Trailer Park.

Given everything the woman had been through in her life, Stacey wondered what kind of nightmares she might be having and whether they could be any worse than reality. She knew her mother had been abused, by Daddy among others – she’d seen that enough with her own eyes over the years. The men she’d picked up at local bars, truck stops, even the laundromat once, were no better. The few that stuck around long-term usually had worse drinking problems than Momma, and two had been drug addicts.

Her car sputtered, then stopped outside Momma’s doublewide. The garden looked even weedier than usual, and part of the gutter in front hung at an odd angle. This was a really bad sign – no matter what else was going on in her life, Momma had always kept the house in good shape. It was the one thing in her childhood she’d been able to count on – there might not be much to eat in the refrigerator, but there was always the scent of Pine-Sol in the air and everything was neatly in its place. Momma was too proud to let the house slip. Until now.

She glanced worriedly at Momma, leaning against the car door with her mouth ajar. She patted Momma’s thin arm, noting how much thinner it had become since she last saw her. “Momma? Momma?”

Momma’s eyes blinked open and she looked around her, lost for a moment. Then, focused her gaze on Stacey. “Where are we?”

“I brought you home. And I got the croissants I promised.”

Momma nodded, then climbed out and wobbled up the front steps to unlock the door. Stacey followed, her brow creased with concern. Inside, she set the bag of croissants on the dining table and scanned the room. The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes and silverware, worn clothes were scattered across the living room floor, and it looked as though the place hadn’t seen a vacuum in a good long while. She shook her head, her stomach clenching. There was definitely something wrong, even more than usual. “Momma, are you feeling okay?”

Momma fetched two plates from an overhead cabinet and turned the coffee pot on. “I’m fine, honey. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that … well, things are a little messy around here. And that’s not like you.”

Momma’s eyes narrowed with a flash of anger. “I guess I’m an embarrassment to you now, am I?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m just worried about you.”

Momma turned her back. “If you were worried about me, you’d call.”

Stacey sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I don’t call or visit enough. I get it – I’m a lousy daughter.”

Momma sat, waving at the chair across from her. “You’re not a lousy daughter. But it’s lonely out here.”

Stacey moved a potholder off the other chair and sat. “What about Faith? Don’t you see her?”

“She moved. She’s not living next door anymore.” Momma sighed, looking suddenly older, as though she’d shriveled in her seat.

Stacey’s eyes widened. “Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. And, um … Cliff?”

“He’s gone. I threw him out.”

“Oh.” Stacey tried not to sound too happy. Cliff hadn’t been the most upstanding citizen, but he was the best boyfriend her mother had ever had. Unemployed and a drunk, but at least he’d seemed kind.

“He wasn’t treatin’ me right. I figured it’s about time I stood up for myself. But I didn’t think it through – didn’t realize how quiet it’d be. It’s just me here now.” Momma took a bite of croissant. “Mmm … these are so good.”

“I’m sorry about Cliff. I know how much you cared about him.”

Momma sniffed. “Pfft. He was a good for nothin’.”

Stacey’s lips pursed. “Still …”

“Anyhow, I just have to get used to bein’ alone. I’ve never been alone in my entire life, so I suppose forty-five’s as good a time to start as any.”

“You’re still young …”

“Ha! I’m old and worn out.”

“You’re definitely not old.”

“Feels that way.”

“I wish you’d start looking after yourself better, Momma. If you’d just quit drinking …”

“Oh, here we go again – quit drinkin’, quit drinkin’. It’s always the shame thing with you. Can’t I just have one little vice to keep the edge off? I’ve got to deal with this life in one way or another, don’t I? Anyhow, I’ve got it under control. I’ve barely had a shot all week … ‘til today. I’m practically a teetotaler.” She chuckled to herself.

Stacey’s heart fell. She’d never get through to Momma. The woman surrounded herself with an artillery of self-preservation. Any hint of an attack and she’d rise up, ready to strike, like a cornered cobra. “I’m glad to hear you’re slowing down. I know you like to drink – it just isn’t good for you.”

“What do you know? What do you know about life or hardship? You’ve been sheltered and spoiled …”

“Sheltered and spoiled?” replied Stacey, her hackles rising. “You must be joking.”

Momma stood and flung her empty plate toward the sink. “You were Daddy’s little princess. I never let anything bad happen to you, not like what I got when I was a girl. No one did that for me. No one protected me …” Momma’s voice broke and she breathed deeply. “But nothin’s ever good enough for you. And now you’re embarrassed to know me, to be seen with me …”

“That is not true! I wish I’d been spoiled! I wish someone had protected me!”

“Oh yeah? From what?”

“FROM YOU!”

Silence hung in the air as Momma’s face transitioned from enraged to an unreadable calm. “From me? I see. I’m such a monster. I’ll have you know I was a good mother. I took care of you, I kept the house clean, I made you meals, I locked your room so no one could hurt you –”

“You locked it when you were home and sober! But what about the rest of the time? You were too busy hiding in a bottle to think about me, and how I had to fend off your sleazy boyfriends and their grabby hands! And when I tried to tell you about them, you beat me – beat me and accused me of trying to steal your beaux away! You ever think about that? No, you were too busy thinking about yourself, your next drink! And you dare pretend you were a good mother?! I was there – I know better!”

Momma blinked a few times, her eyes red-rimmed.

Stacey just stood there, seething. Maybe she shouldn’t have said all that. But not one word of it was a lie.

“You said your piece?” Momma finally whispered.

“Yep.” Stacey picked up her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder and headed out the door. Her gut roiled and her head was dizzy with anger, regret, pain and unspent tears. But as she walked back to her car, she knew she couldn’t feel worse. She pulled out and flipped on the radio.

“… he’s listed as questionable for Sunday’s game against the Giants. And bad news out of Falcons camp – Ardensville native, running back Jax Green is expected to miss the rest of the season after tearing his Achilles in practice yesterday …”

Wrong again. She could feel worse.