“Ok.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t want anything. What do you mean?”

  “What do you want for you? What makes you happy? What do you want out of life?”

  “You think it’s a little late for a therapy session,” I said and laughed.

  “Carrington, I have to go.”

  “What? I’m just kidding.”

  “I know you are, that’s why I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Kayla hung up without saying another word. I stared at the phone, thinking she would call right back. She didn’t.

  ***

  Who wins the award for worlds worst mom in the world? Drum roll please, Carrington does.

  I did not mean to wait until the night before the next home game to talk to Jack. I had to go out of town for two days and when I got back late on Friday, I didn’t have a chance to talk to Jack about it until Saturday afternoon.

  Jackson sat on the floor in the corner where the sectional pieces meet. He claimed the spot in the show room when we bought the couch.

  I sat on the chaise lounge with my feel up and wrapped in my FSU blanket, ready to zone out for awhile.

  The broadcaster compared the Seminoles new sophomore quarterback to the FSU legend, Jackson Mitchell. The kids threw three touchdowns and Jack turned to me.

  “Do you go to Jackson’s game at FSU?”

  “Yeah, of course. So did you, you’re to young to remember.”

  “I can’t wait to watch Jackson throw for four touchdown tomorrow.” He turned back to the television and said, “What time are we leaving for the game?”

  “Jackie,” I said. “We aren’t going to game tomorrow.”

  Jackson stood up and sat on coffee table in front of me.

  “Why?”

  “I told you before we may not be able to go to every game.”

  “But, Jackson says we can go any time we want too. I want to go, Mama.”

  “Jack, listen. I have ben traveling all week and I am tired. I want to stay home and watch the game on TV. We can cook Sunday dinner and eat in front of the TV.”

  “I want to go to the game.” Jackson stood up and stomped his foot.

  “Well, I’m sorry. We not going.”

  “But, I have to go see him.”

  “Why do I have to go see him?”

  “He’s like my dad and we should be there.”

  I let out a sigh and my shoulders slumped.

  “Jack, Jackson is not your dad.”

  “Well, he could be if you would let him. He wants to be.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but I know he would if you told him to be.”

  I shook my head and slumped back into the couch.

  Jack headed towards the kitchen. I sat back up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m calling Jackson.”

  I stood up and followed him.

  “Jack, hang up that phone. You are not calling Jackson.”

  “Yes, I am.” He held the phone out in front of him. His finger hovering over the send button daring me to do something.

  Now, I love my son with all my heart, but I didn’t like him in that moment. He reminded me of Josh. Testing my limits. Josh got some sadistic pleasure out of pushing me. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to calm down.

  When the phone rang, I snapped. My eyes shot open and I grabbed the phone and slammed it down on the counter. I stood over Jack and he looked up at me. His lip quivered and his face turned red. He looked down at his hands and he blinked fast. I soften my face.

  Big mistake.

  Instead of crying, he yelled.

  “You ruin everything. I don’t have a dad and you don’t want me to have one. No one will tell me about my real dad and you won’t let Jackson be my dad. It’s not fair. I hate you.”

  I stepped back and grabbed onto the table for support. Jack’s little checks puffed in and out. I knew he didn’t mean it, but it punched me in the chest anyway.

  His eyes were wet and he swiped at them before the tears fell.

  He started wheezing a little at first and I thought he would breath through it, but it deteriorated quick. His eyes showed panic right before a full on asthma attack. Alarm bells started going off in my head.

  I grabbed one of his inhaler out medicine cabinet in the kitchen. I reached for his arm and pulled him towards me as I sat at the kitchen table. He leaned up against my leg while I took the top off the inhaler. I reminded myself to stay calm and neutral. If I panic, then he would panic and it would get bad quick.

  I shook his inhaler, held it up. He put his mouth on it and I squeezed twice.

  “Breath.” I said while placing my other hand on his chest to encourage him to calm down.

  I waited a minute and he wheezed another breath.

  “One more?”

  He shook his head, opened his mouth and I pumped twice.

  “Breath.”

  That shot did it and his heart stopped racing and his eyes returned to normal size. I rubbed circles on his chest and practiced taking deep breaths with him.

  “Ok.”

  He shook his head.

  “Why don’t you go lay down and finish watching the game.”

  He shook his head and went and laid down on the couch.

  I stayed seated at the kitchen table willing myself not to cry. Sadness over took my senses. I wanted to crawl under the covers in my room and not come out for I don’t know, maybe five years.

  My therapist diagnosed it as a form of depression. When I found myself in situations I needed to control and strong, once it’s over, crisis averted, my mind shut down; my minds own version of fight and then flight.

  I shook it off and went to the couch and laid down on the other end.

  I spent so much time in this state of avoiding catastrophe. It exhausted me.

  Jack wheezed and sat up, ready for action. His steady breathing continued, I relaxed. I laid back down and cried into the couch cushion until the FSU game lulled me to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  Jackson was mad at me.

  Kayla wouldn’t answer my calls.

  Jack hated me, too.

  It hit the trifecta. I managed to piss off everyone lately.

  Jack woke me up and apologized an hour later, but when I asked him if he wanted to watch the game together the next day. He asked if he could go across the street and watch it with his friend Blake. I said yes, and tried to hide by disappointment.

  I pissed off everyone lately.

  Monday morning, Kayla avoided my calls and Jack spoke to me in one word sentences. I was on everyone’s shit list, . . . except Mr. Griffin.

  I finished my to do list at the office early and packed up to head home. A ding on my computer alerted me to a message. Mr. Griffin’s assistant, Ashlei, sent the itinerary for the Griffin Men Annual Hunting Trip. He mentioned it a few times over the last few months.

  The trip was schedule for three days in November in New Jersey, the same weekend the Cardinals played in The Meadowlands. I dialed his number, stood up and stared out the window at the Cardinals facility in the distance.

  “Carrington Olivia Butler, I was wondering when you were going to stop avoiding me.”

  “I’m not avoiding you Mr. Griffin. I have been busy. I am raising your grandson after all.”

  He chucked. He loved it when I refer to Jack as his grandson like me declaring it, made it all the more real.

  “Yep. You are and doing a fine job of it, too.”

  I grew to understand Mr. Griffin better over the years. His ignorance stemmed from his upbringing and from his anger at not living the life he wanted to live. I compared the Griffins to an old english aristocratic family. In England in 1908, Mr. Griffin would be a duke or a lord or something. Her would have arranged for his son to marry the daughter of the king. The two families would join and become one big powerful family. Mr. Griffin would have cut the heads off of a few of his wives by now.

  A black girl with a bastard sone would not have been allowed in the manor.

  Mr. Griffin divorced his third wife after his son died. I wondered if he dated, had a girlfriend. He would be a good catch. He had more money then he knew what to do with it and dare I say it.

  He’s a nice guy.

  In seven years, he had not done one thing that would make me doubt his word or mistrust him. So, why did I find it difficult to let him spend time with Jack alone?

  Jack adored him. They have these weekly video calls and although I leave them alone, I hear them laughing and joking. I encouraged their relationship, but I couldn’t help think it would only take one time for him to do something and devastate our world. He held too much power over my life at the beginning and as the years passed and I became more successful, I had taken back a little of that power.

  I had a great job. Even though it took me a way from my son more then I would like. His father’s money paid for the big stuff, but only because it allowed me to get closer to my goal of not being dependent on anyone.

  Jack understood the concept of money, but he never had the chance to live in that world without my supervision, yet. That’s why this hunting trip scares the hell out of me.

  “Thank you.” I placed my hand on the glass warmed by the direct sunlight.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “And, Jackson. How is Mr. Mitchell?”

  I smiled before I could stop myself. An image of Jackson popped in my head from the day we meet. The last time seeing him didn’t give me an anxiety attack. We went from flirting, to avoiding each other, to stealing moments if only for a quick conversation. For a year and a half, I knew I could count on him for anything. Even in the last six years, in the back of my head, I figured if I really needed him, all I had to do was call. Now, I wasn’t sure he would even take my call. My insides went cold.

  “He’s fine. I guess.”

  “You guess. I figured the two of you would be rekindling your romance. Now that you’re in the same city.”

  “Uh, no.” I shook my head and sat down on the corner of my desk. “Jack is excited to see him more often.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard.”

  “Now you’re not still mad at Jackson.”

  “No, I’m not mad.” I bit my lip to prevent myself from saying any more. That paranoid feeling crept into my brain and gave me a chill. The Griffin’s, all of them, even Kayla, even Jack had a way of knowing my feeling before I was ready to admit it. It freaked me out. “Mr. Griffin, seriously, I am not talking about Jackson with you. It made me uncomfortable six year ago and it hasn’t gotten any easier now.”

  “And here I thought we had become friends.”

  “We aren’t friend.” Silence filled the phone line. “I mean, not exactly. I think of you more like a distance rich uncle type figure.”

  “Well, that’s something I guess.” He grunted.

  I winced. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Ashlei sent you an email about the hunting trip. What do you think?”

  “Don’t you think Jack’s a little too young to be killing animals with a gun?”

  “I’m not going to let him kill any animals.”

  “Oh.”

  “He can watch me kill some.”

  “Oh, I feel much better.”

  “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but Jack needs to spend some time with some men doing man things.” His joking tone made me smile.

  “Mr. Griffin, it’s not like I’ve enrolled Jack into ballet classes.”

  “I know. He is quite manly considering . . .”

  I waited for him to finish the sentence, but he didn’t. I let it go.

  “Is it me? You’re afraid for me to be alone with him for an extend period of time.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Because we won’t be alone. Kayla’s father and brothers are coming, you trust them.”

  “I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt Jack.”

  “Do you?”

  “I sounds logical when I say it out loud.”

  “Well, listen to yourself. I love you son more then any other person in this world. It’s a Griffin tradition we lost site of a long time ago and I want to renew it with my grandson.

  I tried to think of an argument and opposing view. I was a lawyer, I found counter arguments all day long. My mind went blank.

  “I’m not saying no.”

  “Ok.” He sighed. “I guess that’s all I can hope for at this point.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let you know soon. I promise.”

  “Ok, so you need anything? You guys have everything you need?”

  “We are fine.”

  “Ok, well tell Jackson I said hello and I am looking into coming down for at least one game this season.”

  “Well, you’ll be hear anyway in January for the National Championship game.” I said and laughed. The final game would be played in Arizona at the end of the year and although the Seminoles hadn’t made it back to the game since Jackson’s sophomore year, us true fans alway held out hope.

  “You are right about that.” He chuckled. “Go Noles!”

  “Go Noles.”

  I hung up the phone and sat behind my desk. I opened my computer screen and looked at the itinerary for the hunting trip. I hit the reply button and started typing that I would let Jack attended, but I couldn’t hit send. Not yet.

  I pulled up another screen and Googled Jackson Mitchell. When the results came up, I hit images and scanned the photos. It showed a ton of photos from the last few games. He looked good in Cardinals red. I scrolled through and stopped on a photos of him talking to some kids. I clicked on the photos from the Manning Passing Academy. Jackson returned to the camp every year.

  If I needed a father figure for my son, I didn’t need to look any further.

  The man will make a great husband, too.

  I shut the computer screen and looked around. I didn’t say that out loud, did I? I laid my head on my desk and tried to get the thought of Jackson Mitchell waiting at the end of an aisle for me out of my head.

  ***

  Jackson Latre Mitchell

  I received a couple of calls and text messages from Jack, but didn’t call him back. I wondered what Carrington told him about the game, about us. I convinced myself I was giving Carrington some time to handle it. I didn’t know why they couldn’t come and didn’t have an answer for him, so I stayed away and stayed busy.

  I had not spoken to Carrington since that night I left her house. She sent me a couple of good luck texts, but I ignored them. Well, not really ignored them. I smiled whenever her name flash on my phone. My heart raced and I couldn’t wait to unlock the screen and read the text, but then I remember that we weren’t together and it wouldn’t be something sexy or even sweet. It would be generic and emotionless and it would break my heart all over again. Then it would take me twenty minutes talking myself down from the edge.

  I relied on football again, as my saving grace.

  I was studying film in one the meeting rooms when one of the assistants stuck his head in the door.

  “J, there’s some one up front to see you.”

  “Who is is?”

  “I’m not sure, but Margie said you need to come up there.”

  I looked at my phone. I had a thirty minutes before I needed to suit up for practice. I shut off the screen and pushed my chair back. I grabbed my bag and headed to the reception desk. I rounded the corner and Margie got up from the desk and stopped me before I could come out in to the lobby.

  “Hey Margie, they told me someone was here to see me.”

  “Hi Jackson, I’m sorry to bother you. I know your busy. Normally I would have sent them on their way, but they road up here on bikes and seemed a little young to be on their own.” I peaked around the corner and saw three boys standing in the reception area looking at the memorabilia hanging on the wall. Their backs were towards me. Jack stood flanked by two boys who were at least a foot taller than him.

  “Plus the little one insist you two are related.”

  I watched Jack for a minute.

  “Ok, so after Jackson comes and gets us. We can stand on the sidelines and watch practice and then play catch with him after,” Jack said.

  “What’s taking them so long?Oh man. We are going to get thrown out of here.”

  “It’s a big place. Don’t worry. He’ll be out soon.”

  “I bet you’re lying. You don’t know Jackson Mitchell,” the bigger kid said.

  “Where do you think I got my name from?”

  “Your name is Jack.”

  “My real name is Jackson David Butler. I’ve known Jackson since I was born.”

  “We should go,” the little one said with a whimper.

  “Fine, go if you want too. You’re going to miss out on the best time every.”

  When did my god some become such a little shit.

  “Don’t worry about it, Margie. I’ll take care of it.”

  I walked out to the lobby.

  “Jack, what are you doing here?”

  He turned to the two kids and gestured as if to say, I told you so. He walked over to me and hugged my and I patted him on the back.

  “How did you guys get up here?”

  “We rode our bikes,” the tallest kids said.

  “Jack made us come with him. He said we could watch practice.”

  “I wanted to show them the practice facility.”

  “Does your mom know you’re here?” I asked Jack. His head bowed.

  “No,” he whispered.

  I watched the weight of what he’d done descend on him all at once and his lip quivered and his shoulders fell.

  “Listen, you two have a seat and don’t move until I return.” I turned to Jack. “You come with me.”

  I walked towards the hallway and he followed me. “Margie, I’m going to call his mother, keep an eye on those two and send her back when she arrives.”

  “Of course.”

  “You heard the man. Have a seat.” Margie said to the two kids as they crapped in their pants at her tone and sat down. I smiled, but whipped it off my face. As funny as this was, if my dad had caught me doing something so stupid. He would have reamed me out and I would have been grounded for a week. They had to cross at least two major intersections to ride their bike from Jack’s school to get here. I opened the door to the meeting room and Jack stopped and looked up at me. I maintained my best stern expression and motioned for him to enter and sit down.