7. North

seven

North

About a decade later . . .

Finally, it's the NFL season kickoff. I've been waiting for months, excited to try out my new, mounted 72-inch flatscreen. Of course, I've been using it for months, watching animal and nature documentaries, but that's not nearly the same as football. On my back porch, I've got Cajun seasoned chicken wings perfecting in my wood chip meat smoker. They'll be done by halftime.

Sunday excellence.

I ease down onto my soft leather La-Z-Boy recliner, kick up the footrest, and crack open a frosty Dr. Pepper. The carbonation bubbles burst out and fizzle against my palm. I'm almost salivating as I slowly raise the can to my mouth.

"Heeeeeelp!"

One of my brows hikes as I follow the sound, and I sit up straight, arching my neck to see out the window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Mr. Bella's old red Ford is running in his driveaway, but he's nowhere around. Maybe that's a little odd, but I'm sure he ran back in the house to get something.

It's not worth missing the first kickoff for.

"Heeelp me, please!"

I advance toward the door, bracing it open, but still, I see nothing. I scratch the back of my head as my gaze draws back to the TV. I missed the first kickoff. I glance at the clock counting down the minutes until the end of the first quarter. There is nothing I want to do more today than watch my Giants win, but I can't ignore someone screaming for help. I sigh, tucking my phone into my pocket as I rush out the front door.

My concern growing with each passing second, I follow the bellowing around the back of Mr. Bella's house to the detached double garage off the back alley. The overhead door is open, but I can't see inside of it. Stacks of boxes—every size and shape—overflow out the front. It's like it's moving day, or something. "Mr. Bella," I holler. "Are you there?"

"North?" His voice staggers from somewhere deep inside the caves of boxes.

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?" I inch closer, but there's no path to go between the boxes. "Where are you? What's all the hollering about?"

"Don't laugh," his voice is stern, echoing off the unfinished walls and cement slab floor. "I seem to have gotten trapped back here when I stepped on some of my fly trap paper, lost my balance, and knocked over a stack of boxes on top of myself."

My gaze scans the boxes, and again, I'm amazed how he got past the first row. I'm going to need a crane to get him out. "Um, hold on a second!" I pull out my phone, still assessing the stacks of boxes. If they are heavy, it could take an hour, or more, to get back to him. I couldn't help but feel an intense pang of regret. I'm going to miss the game . But deep down, I understand Mr. Bella needs me. "I'm calling for backup. We'll get you out."

I scroll through my contacts, looking for a number to call. I sure don't want to call Rocco. Even though he lives in town, he turned into one of those dudes I never care to see again. I scroll through my small list of names, landing on my group list for the football team I coach. They'd muscle these boxes out of here in a hurry, but if he's hurt, his family needs to know. Since I already established I'm not calling Rocco, that leaves me with Gia .

A ping sparks in my gut at the sight of her name in my phone. Gia and I hadn't spoken to each other since high school. I had all my dreams come true, getting drafted to the NFL right after high school. Actually, Rocco and I both got drafted, and it was such an exciting thing for our school and town.

My dream was short lived when I blew out my ACL during training, before I even played in a game. I returned home to attend college for coaching. It was around that time, I quickly discovered Rocco was illegally betting and cheating, and he got kicked out of the NFL. I was not the one to turn him in, but since I was the only person he knew that fully understood his secret, he blamed me for getting caught. I tried to tell him so many ways, it wasn't me who turned him in, but he always seemed to blame it on me.

After that, we drifted apart, as my life was heading in a different direction. I got a job teaching and coaching at my old high school. The housing crunch was in full steam, and I couldn't find a place to live. When my parents decided to retire, move to Mexico, and sell their house, I jumped at the chance to buy them out. Their house is in my district, and close to work. It was an afterthought when I remembered that Rocco and Gia's dad still lived next door.

Rocco hardly came home, so that isn't an issue. Gia moved further west, to the Hamptons, working in some fancy resort. When she does come home, I avoid going outside, or I stay late at work. We never had a falling out.

It's the opposite.

Gia and I never had much of anything, thanks to Rocco making sure I never got near her. Staying away didn't do anything to cure my affection for her, because even after all these years, the sound of her name makes my heart slam against my ribcage, reminding me of all the risks I didn't take in life. Not to mention, all the ways Rocco bullied me, and larger than anything else—all the love I've stored for Gia.

I rake my hand through my hair and cringe.

I can't believe I never asked her out.

I almost did, once.

I chickened out, instead asking her to save me one dance.

Ha! Not sure what I was going to do with one dance, but the thought of holding her in my arms for even a few minutes made my heart quake at a magnitude 9.0.

Later that night when I visited her, I tried to ask her out again. There was a moment where she looked at me as if she could think of me as more than a friend. My mouth went dry, and I couldn't get the words out fast enough before Mr. Bella showed up.

I take a deep breath, my memories telling too much truth. Rocco threatened to destroy me if I ever touched her. At first, I thought he was joking, but his pupils got all dilated, and he never dropped it.

I tried to pretend that I didn't love her.

I'd look the other way when we'd cross paths in the hall at school.

My feelings just continued to grow.

It was as if Rocco could smell them, because he was always there, too. He refused to get out of my way, and now after so many years have passed, I've still never had the chance to tell her how I feel.

"Hey, are you still there?" Mr. Bella hollers back through the boxes, inserting himself into my memories.

"Yeah." I blink, and remember he's still trapped. "Give me one moment, I'm calling Gia."

I swallow, coating my throat as this is going to take every ounce of strength I have.