Page 51 of Fumble Into the End Zone
Bryce surveyed the dated space, unable to see my vision before questioning me again.
“Marcus, man, do you know what you’re doing? I can’t have you getting hurt. You’re my primary target.”
I grinned as I took in the tightness of Bryce’s jaw line. Tapping his shoulder, I attempted to calm his reservation. “I have a construction management degree. My grandfather taught me how to frame, sheetrock, insulate and lay concrete. I’m going to carry on his legacy. There’s something special about building your own home,” I said.
Bryce surrendered his shoulders, relaxing his body. “Man, you have hidden talents and shit,” he said.
I snorted at his comment and led the way into the kitchen. The boxed-in kitchen held brown upper and lower cabinets.With my drill, I removed the first three doors from the upper cabinets as Bryce watched. Before I could move to the opposite side of the room, he interrupted me.
“Why did you call me out here?” he questioned.
I tossed the door on the pile resting on the floor before I gripped the handle of the sledgehammer. “I need your advice on Mia. She’s making me pay the tab for another man running out on the bill.”
“What!” Bryce questioned, with confusion resting in his crowded brows.
I huffed as I realized Bryce didn’t catch the metaphor. “Her ex let her take care of his baby. The one he cheated and created, and then he snatched her away. Now, her guard is up. She is afraid I’ll pull Harley from her if we break up. But, she doesn’t understand I’d kidnap her ass before I let her leave. You know what I’m saying?”
Bryce’s eyes widened at my statement. He rubbed his nonexistent beard as he glared back at me.
“Marcus, you can’t kidnap this girl, dude. You down bad,” he said.
Making love to Mia and not being able to hold her at night consumed me more than football. I’d been racking my brain for a solution to bring down her emotional walls. A crack in the door could fumble her into the end zone.
“I know she is my wife, but she isn’t budging on us exploring something deeper,” I said.
Gripping the end of my worn, blue shirt, I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
“Marcus, it’s been almost two weeks. Give her some time,” Bryce advised, but I dismissed his sound advice.
“Why wait when I know she is meant to be my wife?” I asked.
Bryce gave a half hearted shrug. Why waste time playing the dating game when my heart already told me she was the one.
“You need to give her something tangible. Put some skin in the game to show her you’re serious. Find a way to separate yourself from Nathan,” he said.
“I’m open for ideas,” I said.
When Bryce didn’t say anything, I aimed the sledgehammer at the first cabinet. The impact crumbled the old, rotten, wooden shelves.
“I got an idea, but it’s risky,” Bryce yelled, pausing my next swing.
“I’m listening.”
Bryce folded his arms. “Give her some power to make some decisions regarding Harley. Think about it. What says ‘I trust you’? I think it’s called power of attorney or some shit. Get your agent to find you a lawyer,” he said.
The idea unnerved me. We’re discussing my daughter. It could either work or blow up in my face.
“At this point, I don’t think you have any other options. It’s worth exploring,” Bryce said.
He was right. I needed to do something unexpected to break the wall down. Once she stopped holding back I knew she would fall in love.
I smiled at Bryce before I swung the hammer at the next cabinet.
“And the wide receiver stood on the white line with the numbers and the princess threw the ball. He caught the ball and touchdown!” Harley continued her part of our bedtime story.
I chuckled as she used her hands to showcase her throwing a touchdown.
“The End,” she said.
