Encroachment (Love & Football Series)

Encroachment

(Love & Football series)

by V. L. Jennings

rev. 12/23/2013

Copyright V. L. Jennings 2012-2013

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Prologue

Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts

--Oliver Wendell Holmes

Peaches couldn’t sleep. Again. It was just as well, since her body shook in part from chills and the unknown. Sitting-up in her bed, she pulled her knees to her chest, encircled them with her hands when her eyes fell to the clock at her beside. Two a.m. This was bad—she desperately needed her rest. Except this was new, this not sleeping through the night. But truly, it had always been a problem off-and-on for the past seven or eight months or so. Her life had changed so drastically that there was little wonder if things would ever be ‘normal’ for her again.

Loren’s light snoring caught her attention, and her eyes moved to his slumbering form. He had come home ecstatic from the Colorado Coasters’ win against the Boston Bombers, a victory that leads them one step closer to the Big Bowl, and then she dashed water on his flaring hopes with her news. Boy he was a big man, and at times she wondered how she’d come to be in his house, in his bed. It was something she’d hoped would happen, but how did it come about so soon?

Yeah, looking back to her prom night, it all seemed so surreal. The dinner, the dance, and Loren’s lips kissing her senseless, the sky was the limit for her then. But what she wouldn’t know was the power of a woman scorned, and what lengths she would go to get exactly what she wanted.

No, in her haste to find good in the world and in the man she had an inkling of loving, she was completely unprepared for the emotional devastation which awaited her . . . right around the corner.

And Loren had always been her ideal man; his commanding presence, his need to be the hero that everyone wished him to be. At times she wondered how he managed to live up to the standard—on-and-off the field. So, how could anyone be mad at Loren for any length of time anyway? His tanzanite stare which turned to grape shards when angered, his charming dimples which graced an amazing smile, his raven, curling hair that framed his head so wonderfully—he was an angel on earth. Yeah, that one could charm the sock off a matronly spinster if he wanted to.

Her fingers raked through her flat-ironed locks and ruefully she shook her head. Loren’s life had changed dramatically within the past year as well, but the exception was that he always rolled with the punches, had the emotional stamina to go the distance—on-and-off the field in that arena, too. Still, she wondered how much of his desire to remain with her was from love and devotion or from guilt and obligation. And now that he’s heard the news, would he stick to his word and support her in this endeavor?

Sure, he’d said he would do his best—intended to make things work. But what she’d leveled on him tonight was something he wasn’t emotionally prepared for, like a stealth attack from an unknown blitzer. It snuck-up from behind him and slammed his hand down with such a force the wind was knocked from his lungs and he had to make a save and make it count by scrambling for his mental ball.

And she felt sorry for him.

Felt sorry for herself in a way, when another chill beset her, and she held her knees closer while her teeth tugged at a patterned lime green comforter. The room wasn’t overly chilly and the fireplace had given some measure of heat. But as she pondered her future she had to get a grip and prepare her mind for the mental haul that lay ahead, whether Loren stuck to his word or not.

And he had dealt with illness in the past. And he wasn’t in the game at first back then.

But then again he couldn’t have had all the facts, and his reaction to the events that transpired was scary and erratic and she didn’t need him to be like he had back then. She needed him to be a bulwark against the raging storm, a fortification built on a solid foundation that wouldn’t cave-in when it was needed most. Still, he promised he would go with her to the doctor and see how things stood.

Yes from there they would weigh their options for the rocky road ahead.

55 months earlier:

Chapter One

Take away love, and our earth is a tomb

--Robert Browning

Dim to semi-bright rays of dawn filtered the earth in trickles, melting the night’s dew while calling out softly to rouse ones from blissful slumber to a demanding day of activity. Peaches lay in bed closing her darkly fringed eyes, to relive the night prior. Gently her fingers moved across her mouth where Loren had planted his winsome kisses, and definitely she yearned for more. Broad was her smile, and swiftly her hands retrieved her other pillow, to pretend it was he instead. Deeply she sighed. Was she dreaming or did it really happen? Indeed, she loved everything about him, his sly grin, his lips, his hands . . . his hot bod, and she couldn’t wait until he was over to see her again. The things she wished to do . . .

With a skip in her step, Peaches descended the stairs to the den for her destination, as it was still pretty early, and she shouldn’t want to wake anyone. Thoroughly anxious, she lay on her side and watched a romance channel to pass away the time. Her happiness was boundless. and with some din of effort she bounced her foot from beams of electricity upon the edge of the couch. And no, she couldn’t contain this news. And why should she? This was an earth-shattering story of love between Loren and herself. It wasn’t about his popularity and notoriety with the team. It was about their emotional connection, their mutual comprehension about their seemingly unified dreams and aspirations.

Plus, this all appeared to settle so neatly and compactly on football. The headline announcing their newfound love would look something like this:

Local QB Hero and Reporter fall in love!

Amidst her crazy musings, Cole soundlessly entered the room and sat on the couch beside her, prompting her to move her legs and sit erect. She flung her arms around his neck and bussed his cheek to bubble, Good morning!

His good arm encircled her and he grunted, Mornin’. How are ya—how’d it go last night?

He’s so serious.

Cole’s mood infected her like a virus and she squirmed to lean over the coffee table and straighten magazines which were already properly aligned. Good, good! Then a finger snagged a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

Catching her unease he narrowed his gaze and rephrased his question, certain she wouldn’t see his ruse. No, how was dinner and the prom?

Oh, everything was great! she gushed. For some reason she felt a rogue strand of hair and tugged it behind her ear, the one she had placed only seconds before . . . except it wasn’t loose and she felt silly. Then she felt compelled to add, "Cheryl won Prom Queen, and Kyle Rutherford won Prom King. You may remember him—he was the one who got in trouble for mooning the South Rebels—our last home game during your junior year."

Dawning lit his eyes. Yeah, I remember him; the carrot top. I can’t believe he did that. But since he did, it’s probably what made him popular enough to win Prom King.

Uh-huh, people are strange, you know? But I was happy for Cheryl . . . Oh, and thanks again for asking Loren to take me. He’s a real trooper! Now that’s what she wished to tell him. Except her hand was a vice on his royal blue tee, and abruptly she released it like it had the cooties.

Cole noted his crinkled shirt and turned his head sideways. Blinking at his sister, a half-grin framed his handsome face and he said, Then I’m glad you had a good time.

And there was no mistaking the glint in her eyes and the uneven current that had flowed from her fingertips. Not even wanting to think of the implications of it all, he lifted his casted wrist and informed, Maureen’s coming at ten. She’s upset about the arm, like I’m an invalid or something.

Peaches laughed and vacated her seat to say, "Well, I’m going to shower. I’ll be down for breakfast.

Excitement from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes propelled her forward, and she rushed upstairs to her room. Hastily she threw back her curtains and glanced out her window, hoping to glimpse Loren—but he wasn’t there. Shrugging her slender shoulders she entered her bathroom and doffed her yellow gym shorts, an oversized T-shirt and the rest of her things. Twisting a stainless steel knob she tested the warmness of the splaying water with an outstretched hand, and wondered if Loren would be the same or if he would be different. Boy she hoped he would be the same, but she would see.

And judging from his revelations of the night past, she was pretty sure it was a done deal.

Heretofore, soft beams of light slowly cascaded against the variegated tones of red, black, and white, shielding their presence in Loren’s room yet relentlessly beckoning him to an early rising, and he blinked his long, curling lashes leisurely in remembrance.

Oh yeah, he needed to find out if something was between him and Peaches, and boy was there ever! He almost lost his head with her! She was so sexy and didn’t even know it! If he closed his lids he could smell her hair and fragrance, and he longed to taste her adorable lips once more. Peaches was the end of the line and he knew it—now that he’s kissed her he would have no other. A hand moved down his face to shake-off the remainder of sluggishness that was drifting from his bones, by now he was fully awake. Regretfully he pulled back his covers to move to his bathroom to take shower, a cold one, since he wouldn’t want to be responsible for his actions even in the privacy of his own room.

Then he had to let-off some steam. He went to the den and did a mini-workout with his free weights, effectively getting Peaches off his mind. His desires were boiling, surging, and he couldn’t discern why they were so fierce toward her. Yeah, he needed this break to labor his muscles and divert the lower half of his body to something a little more effective. And no, it wasn’t what he wanted but it worked.

About an hour later he spied his mother heading down the hallway to the kitchen—he figured to prepare breakfast. Trailed by his father ten minutes later, he followed them and plopped down at a white Formica table. Wiping off his neck with a gray hand towel he breathed, Hey Moms, Pops!

Good morning, how are you? Brigitte inquired. She eyed his sweaty tank top and black runner sweats but would never protest. In her mind she would wipe his seat down later. Swiftly her hand’s fork beat eggs in a plastic bowl—her favored implement for this task at hand. She owned a whisk but didn’t like to use it, telling Carlos ‘the eggs’ white thingy still stuck to the blades’.

Good said Loren.

Carlos lifted a mug of mocha coffee to his lips and asked, How was the date?

Oh, it went well. Peaches had a good time. And boy his heart thundered when he said Peaches. What it meant he wouldn’t speculate. But his thought was since his parents couldn’t see it beating out of his chest he was good.

And what time were you home? We went to bed at midnight and you weren’t home as yet, his mother’s eyes glimmered approval.

Loren turned his face askew—he simply loved his mother’s accent . . . but wasn’t certain on how to reply. Would she be mad at him, to learn he got fresh with the neighbor’s daughter? Better play it safe. I got home, um, about one. Some of us were talking after the dance, you know.

"For almost two hours?" Amused, Carlos raised a single brow.

Loren’s head zipped to regard his father . . . still uncertain on what to say. They hadn’t discussed girls since his freshman year in high school. Would he approve of his behavior as well? But they didn’t appear to be hostile . . . at least it was the inkling he had. Yep! he finally said with a nod. At this juncture an escape was necessary and he said, I’m going to get the paper. He excused himself and heard his parents’ laughter when he left the room. He even chuckled to himself—he was so busted.

Meanwhile, Peaches donned a teal trapeze dress and flat strappy sandals. She felt so alive, elated to have a boyfriend at last. After her descent for breakfast, she was flooded with snickers at her appearance; she was the only one fully dressed.

The family enjoyed strawberry crepes and sausage, a treat for her big weekend. Barbara didn’t have the full story on why Peaches arrived home so late. Her emotions masked, she took a sip of her orange juice, and in mischief she queried, "So, tell me again. You guys went where after the dance?"

We went to Denny’s, Mom! Denny’s! She quelled the urge to hide her face but it wasn’t easy, it felt like a kaleidoscope of colors.

"For two hours?"

"Mom!" Smiling, a slender hand covered her forehead and her teeth tugged at her lower lip instead.

This was the part of dating she didn’t anticipate—the constant teasing. Staring at the napkin in her lap she tried to rein-in her composure and finally looked up—not at her father—but at her brother. She had an idea her mother most likely told things to her father, but Cole was a different pile of potatoes. Yet the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned when he took a bite of a juicy strawberry and licked his lips in delight. He didn’t question her further and she didn’t reveal any more but nibbled on a sausage link wondering what he thought of it all.

Opportunely the doorbell rang. Barbara jumped and said, Ooh, I’ll get it. Moments later she reappeared with Maureen.

Maureen enfolded Cole compassionately around his neck. Her bright red hair a swirl of curls, faint lily perfume eddied about his face. Hi, baby. Hello Mr. Stephens . . . Peaches. She brushed her lips on his brow and concluded Peaches was the only one dressed. Deciding she was probably on her way out, or was to have company-in, which it was she wasn’t sure, but she claimed a seat beside Cole and meagerly arranged food on a plate his mother had supplied her with.

While Maureen chatted mindlessly about the weather outdoors and its pleasant clime the doorbell sounded again. Everyone was started but Peaches.

Once more Barbara volunteered to answer its summons and discovered Loren on their stoop. Oh, hi, how are you today? Come on in.

Hi Mrs. Stephens, I’m fine thanks. He trailed her to the kitchen. Hello everyone, he said with a wave of his hand. There went his heart beating frantically again and his palms were a tad sweaty. Just what was this about?

Hey man, what’s up? Cole smiled in his friend’s direction.

"Nada. Loren pointed to his broken appendage. How’s the arm?"

Alright. It’s hard to sleep, though.

I bet. Sorry ’bout that, man.

No prob—accidents happen. It’s all good.

Maureen shot Loren a fulminating glance but he wouldn’t see her pout. Actually he didn’t care. Whether it was about Cole’s fracture or his claiming the open seat beside Peaches he was doubly unconcerned. He leaned in Peaches’ direction, in the direction of the raspberry scent that had plagued him the past three years, and in a soft familiar voice that dripped from his lips he murmured, Hey.

Peaches giggled; his familiarity hadn’t gone unnoticed by the tiny group in attendance and she replied, Hey yourself.

Barbara was up for some extra teasing and asked, So, Loren . . . What did you guys do after the dance?

Uh, we—

We went to Denny’s, Mom! Peaches interjected; her face a rainbow of colors again.

Uh, yeah, we went to Denny’s, Loren parroted. His head bobbed vigorously and he grinned, knowing their mothers would compare notes this week and they were caught red-handed.

When Maureen’s mouth opened to question them further, Cole gave a loud sigh and glanced at his chum to announce, I’m going to shower.

Then she figured now wasn’t the time to barrage them with the going’s on from the dance. Sensing a change in Loren and Peaches today, there was no mistaking the intimacy of his stare into the girl’s amber ones. Maureen shot Loren a look, but he met her gaze directly and wouldn’t cower; she shook her head in response. I’ll help you with your things was what she said to Cole and scraped her chair away from the table to stand and pull his seat back, too.

Maureen’s mind was in warp speed, recalling how last evening the pair didn’t appear to be involved—they seemed innocent enough. But now she knew something was afoot, since Loren was acting peculiar. Granted, he’s their neighbor. But he almost kissed her—his face was so close to her ear—and they were held up at ‘Denny’s’. I wonder how late it was when they arrived home, and what could they be talking about that late.

Upstairs she asked, Babe, what time did your sister get home last night?

I don’t know, he said, while he puttered around his room, sliding dresser drawers back and forth to get his underwear and casual clothes for the day. He decided on red Coasters shorts and a matching tee; would slip-on flip-flops. Everything would be easy to get on and he wouldn’t have to deal with any zippers