Page 63 of The Sweetness of Life

The door whips open and Kyle strides in. “So, I just got off the phone with—”

Shelby squeals and jumps away from me.

Kyle freezes.

“Ah, sorry.” He looks from me to her and then back to me, but he never retreats the way he came.

“No worries,” I grind out, hoping he’ll catch on to my tone and leave, but he doesn’t.

Silence falls around the three of us, and it’s Shelby who breaks it.

“Okay, right, I’ll just go now.” She sputters the words out as she runs her hands down her shirt and shorts to smooth them out. Her eyes flick to mine as she walks past Kyle, and a small smile tips the corner of her mouth.

Following her, I stop in the doorway and reach to hook my fingers on top of the doorframe. Leaning forward, I take in the sight of her in my hallway and her long legs with those high-heeled shoes. It takes everything in me not to follow her.

“Hey, Shelby,” I call out just before she reaches the west wing door.

“Yeah?” She spins around and walks backward.

My heart stutters at how impossibly beautiful she is.

I need more time with her.

This is a new feeling for me, one I’m not ready to put any great thought into. I just know I need more . . . more of her.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you later.”

Overnight Cinnamon Rolls

IT’S JUST AFTER five thirty when I lift the lid of the old cast iron Dutch oven I found in a cabinet and release the steam along with the delicious scent of chicken and herbs. Michelle asked me to surprise her with a traditional Southern dish, so of course I went with chicken and dumplings. This was the first dish I taught myself how to make from an old recorded Paula Dean show, and although I’ve tweaked the recipe some over the years to make it my own, it’s still one of my favorites.

All afternoon the time has ticked by as slow as molasses, and I can’t wait for six to get here. I didn’t expect to run into Zach this morning, but from the moment I left him standing in his office, I’ve missed him. Knowing I’m leaving in a few days makes me apprehensive; I’d like to spend as much time with him as I can, which makes me more annoyed that we got interrupted earlier in his office.

It was actually surprising to see how many framed football articles, awards, and photos of him in football gear were around the room. I’m sure some were left behind by his father, but the space spoke to his years of love and dedication to football as much as it did for the winery.

I’ve never known anyone who played football on the level he did. Yes, Lexi’s brother played in college, but the NFL is different. So many dream of making it to the professional level, but only the best of the best do. I know an injury ended his career, but I don’t know what happened specifically. When I searched him, I scrolled through the images and scanned article titles without opening any of them.

Putting the lid back on the pot, I pour myself a glass of wine, grab my laptop, and narrow the search to “Zach Wolff”, “football”, and “injury”. Thousands of results pop up on the screen. I know all of these articles about him are public knowledge, but in a way, I feel like I’m eavesdropping into his life. It’s like reading someone’s diary and learning about their past without asking them first.

Clicking over to the images, I take in every detail of him in his football prime. When I looked him up last week, I hated the sight of him, but now, these photos get my blood pumping in an entirely different way. It’s like a chronicle of his life from college through his time in the NFL. Practices, game days, draft day, events—they’re all there for people to view.

In most of the photos, his look is serious, severe, but in the few of him smiling, it’s breathtaking.

Flipping through the images, I stop on one of him on the field being loaded onto a stretcher. My breath catches because the scene looks frightening, and I imagine it’s every player’s worst fear. There are at least fifteen people around him, and an ambulance is parked next to him on the field. The fans in the background are standing, and every face is frozen in horror.

What happened to you?

Switching back to the web, I see the title to the third listing reads: Crazy collision results in career-ending concussion for Tampa’s defensive linebacker Zachary Wolff.

My stomach starts to ache as I scan the article, and even though I know he’s alive and well, it doesn’t stop the anxiety from sneaking in and swirling through me. I knew he stopped playing because of an injury, but after reading this, the cause of the constant headaches makes sense.

Hovering over the link, I debate watching the YouTube clip or not. Seeing someone you care for get hurt is hard enough, but knowing it’s going to be life-changing makes it that much more excruciating. Feeling the need to understand him more, I click play. The entire clip is only twenty-five seconds, but that’s all it takes.

The quarterback lines up for Seattle, he calls the play, and then he steps back to fire the ball. The players set into motion, each doing their part, and Zach takes off after an opposing player running down the sideline. Right before he reaches him a second player from Seattle dives through the air to tackle him, grabbing one foot and causing him to trip just as the other turns to catch the ball. As the opposing player comes down, the momentum of Zach and the other player becomes detrimental, a helmet-to-helmet crash that results in both players lying flat on their back.

As the instant replay fires up on the jumbotron, the gasp that comes from the sixty-thousand-person crowd in the stadium is so loud, it’s as if they could have sucked the air right out. The Skycam is almost directly over the tackle, making everyone feel as if they were a part of it. The crack of their heads is so loud it echoes through my computer speakers.

Tears swell in my eyes, and my heart races as I hit play and watch it again. I want it to last longer so I can keep watching. What happens next? Does the other player get up? Is there any movement from Zach at all? Not knowing leaves me panicky, and I close my eyes to try to block out the video and calm down. At least he turned out all right . . . mostly.