Sway (Keeping Score Book 6)

by Tawdra Kandle

  Two hours later, my hand was aching, but I could see the end of the line. The crowd had dwindled, and all of the officials had left as well. By now, it was just Morgan and me, with the last of the die-hard fans.

  I scribbled my name on a pennant and grinned at the teenager who was waiting for it. “Thanks for supporting the team. We appreciate it.”

  “Thank you for everything you do.” He spoke slowly. “I had an aphasia when I was a kid. Speech therapy changed my life.”

  “Hey.” I offered him my hand. “Congratulations on doing the work it took to overcome that.”

  “Could I get a picture?” he asked hopefully.

  “Sure.”

  The boy handed Morgan his phone, and she snapped the pic. We shook hands again, and then he departed, still smiling big.

  This had been a wonderful day, and thanks to the opportunities offered to me by Mrs. Carroll and the game of football, I had done good work. It felt right. If I’d been going home to Sarah, it would’ve been perfect. I scowled, pushing that thought from my mind before I drove myself crazy.

  “That’s it, then?” I stood up, stretching. “We’re done?”

  “Well . . .” Morgan’s eyes darted back toward the clinic rooms. “Not quite. We have a young lady who wanted to meet you earlier, but the crowds were a little overwhelming for her, so we asked her to wait in the back. We saved her for last. Do you mind staying for just five more minutes? I’ll go get her.”

  I sat down again with a sigh. “Sure. But if she wants an autograph, I can’t swear it’ll be legible.” I shook out my hand. “Pretty sure my fingers are permanently cramped.”

  “I think she’ll be okay just to see you.” Morgan laughed. “Be right back.”

  I pulled out my phone to skim over my messages as I waited. Hope was something that didn’t die easily, and I still checked religiously to see if maybe Sarah had texted me. I still re-read her old messages almost daily. I’d come so damn close to just sending a simple please come home, but so far, I’d resisted. She needed to do this on her own. I wanted her, I loved her with all of my soul and heart, but I knew that for us to have a chance, we both had to be all in. For better or for worse.

  “Hey, QB.”

  My heart almost stopped. For a long minute, I didn’t allow myself to look up, because I was sure I was hallucinating, and I didn’t want it to stop. But when I heard her soft sigh and caught a whiff of her familiar scent, I forced my gaze upward.

  “Sarah.”

  She looked—well, hell, she looked worried and scared, and her eyes were lined with red, and I thought maybe she’d lost weight. But even so, dressed in faded jeans and—was that a Rebels jersey?—she was the most beautiful vision I’d ever seen in all of my life.

  “Gideon.” Her voice shook. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was scared and I was wrong, and I—I ran because I didn’t know what else to do.” She drew in a deep breath, her chest rising. “But it was never because I didn’t believe in you. It was me who I didn’t trust enough to stay. I was so frightened that I’d be like—like Rick. I was afraid that I’d end up hurting you in the long run, and I could never do that to you, because I—” She swallowed. “I love you so much, Gideon. I am so deep in love with you that I can’t think of anything else. I couldn’t stay away any longer. I couldn’t imagine living one more day without you. I don’t know how we’re going to make this work, when we live on opposite coasts, but I know we can, somehow. Please tell me that I didn’t mess this up. Please tell me that you still love me. Please tell me you’ll give me another chance. Please tell me—”

  I couldn’t listen to her anymore. Scraping back the chair, I stood, stepped around the table between us and pulled Sarah close to me. I silenced all of her needless words of apology and explanation with a kiss.

  It wasn’t our first kiss. It wasn’t the most passionate kiss we’d ever shared. In the history of kisses, it might not have been the finest. But it was full of promise and acceptance and hope. It was the beginning of the life that we would build together, and it was us, Sarah and Gideon, in all of our imperfection and mess.

  Most of all, it was love, the love that had lured two stubborn people away from their loneliness, drawing us to each other, leading us toward a forever we could share.

  When I could speak again, my voice was hoarse, rough with emotion. “No more sorries, princess. No more apologies. Just us now.” I tightened my hold on her waist and gazed into her eyes. “Be warned, though, that I’m not planning to let you go ever again. If you run, I’m chasing you. And you know I’ve got the moves to catch you.”

  Sarah rested her forehead on my shoulder, her tears wetting my shirt. “I’m not going to run again, QB, unless it’s into your arms.” Lifting her head, she wrinkled her nose. “Gah, that was the corniest thing ever. Promise me that just because we’re in love now, we’re not going to become those people.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Never. Please. We’re way too cool for that.” I buried my face in her neck, kissing just below her earlobe. “Matter of fact, we’re so cool that we’re even going to make the corny shit work.”

  She laughed softly. “If anyone could do it, we could.”

  “If I say I’m going to take you home now and keep you forever, is that lame or sweet?” I brushed her hair back.

  “I’m going to have to go with creepy. I don’t necessarily want to be kept. That makes you sound like a serial killer with a penchant for trophies.”

  I groaned. “So we’ve come full circle now, and we’re back to talking about serial killers, just like our first night together. Great.”

  Sarah threw back her head and laughed. It was my favorite sound and sight in all the universe, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her again. This time, I poured everything into it, and it just might have been the most perfect kiss ever.

  But who’s keeping track of shit like that, anyway? Imperfection just gave us an excuse for more practice.

  When we could breathe again, she laid her hand on my cheek. “Take me home, Gideon. Take me to our farm. Sing to me at night, and make me laugh. Put on one of your records, and we’ll sway to our song. Let’s drink wine and hold hands out by our tree, talk football in the kitchen . . . and love each other for the rest of our lives.”

  “I can work with that.” I took her hand in mine, lifting our joined fingers to my lips. “This isn’t a happy ending, princess. This is our beginning.”

  The End

  The Beginning

  Epilogue

  The stadium was rocking.

  I knew that was a figure of speech, but today, it was actually true. Thousands of Richmond Rebels fans had packed the seats for this crucial play-off game, and my team had not disappointed them.

  There were ten seconds left in the fourth quarter. Three football minutes ago, from the thirty-eight-yard line, I threw an absolutely fucking gorgeous spiral down the field, where it landed in the waiting arms of Leo Taylor . . . who took about two steps right into the end zone.

  The extra point was good—hell, it was more than good, it was a thing of beauty—which put us six points ahead of Philadelphia.

  Sweet.

  But I wasn’t so cocky as to think that those guys from the City of Brotherly Love were done with us yet. Three minutes can be an eternity in football, especially when the quarterback had the kind of arm that their QB boasted.

  Our defense, though . . . man, those dudes were no joke. They held that line to the bitter end, until Philly was on fourth and three. Of course, they went for it—why would they not, with everything on the line like it was?

  And three seconds ago, we shut them the fuck down.

  When it was clear they hadn’t gotten the first down, this place went crazy, and in the middle of the cheers and screams and bedlam, Corey Iverson came running at me like a mad man, yelling at the top of his lungs, and then Leo was there, too, and everyone was piling on.

  It hit me like that: we were going to the game. THE game. The championship game, th
e one that meant everything.

  I hugged my guys and smacked them on their backs and yelled nonsense—I couldn’t remember what the hell I said—and then my eyes were searching the stands for my woman. I only wanted Sarah with me in this moment.

  Ellie Iverson ran past me, heading for Corey, and I managed to catch her arm.

  “Hey, you seen Sarah?”

  Ellie grinned and pointed behind her, and then she shook off my hand and made a beeline for her husband.

  For a moment, I didn’t see where Ellie meant, and then I found her. She was standing still, chin lifted as she scanned the crowd of red and blue uniforms, her smile bright and yet still searching. I called her name, but it was still too loud for anyone to hear me.

  So I lifted my helmet high, waving it slowly. I knew the minute she spotted me, because that smile got a million times bigger.

  We both pushed through the wall-to-wall bodies, desperate to get to each other. Just before I was close enough to grab her hand, someone called my name and shoved a microphone in my face.

  “Gideon Maynard! You and your Richmond Rebels just clinched the conference championship! You’re going to the big game! The league championship! What was going through your head as you were watching your defense hold Philadelphia back during those last crucial minutes?”

  For a moment, I scowled. I had not one iota of desire to talk to the press, to answer their idiotic questions . . . all I wanted was to get to Sarah.

  And then she was with me, ignoring the reporter, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me full on the mouth, right on national television.

  I loved every second of it.

  I held her tight, my arms cinching her ribs, and I buried my face in her neck.

  “We did it, princess. We fucking did it.”

  “You did!” She laughed, her head tossed back, and I joined her, because why the hell not?

  The reporter, a woman I’d known for a while from the national coverage team, played along for a little while, making sure the camera got every second of the embrace Sarah and I shared. When she cleared her throat, I lowered Sarah to her feet, but I kept her close.

  “Gideon, that was some congratulations right there!” The reporter eyed Sarah. “This is the lady who’s been seen on your arm for the past ten months or so. Sarah, are you proud of Gideon?”

  She never looked away from me as she answered, her voice firm and sure. “Always. Every single day.”

  “Gideon, you had a reputation in the past for being . . . ah, intense and aloof. But the buzz we heard this year from your team was that you were the force rallying them, spurring the whole group on to victory. What changed?”

  I stifled a sigh and an eye roll. “Hey, listen, we’re a team, and that’s all that matters.” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “I used to think that being the best quarterback in the league was the highest goal I could have. I thought that was everything. But I’ve come to realize that no accomplishment has meaning if you’re alone when you reach it.” I snugged Sarah closer to my side. “And I’d rather be on the best team in the league, with all of these players, than be known as the best single player.”

  If she had more to ask, I didn’t care, because I turned around then and focused on the important stuff, like kissing my woman until neither of us remembered where we were or that anyone else was around.

  “Sarah! Hey, I think you left a decoration or something out on our tree.” I squinted out the kitchen window at the evergreen.

  “What?” Sarah wandered in from the living room, frowning at me. “No, I didn’t. I was really careful to get all the glass balls and ribbon off the branches when we were undecorating from Christmas.” She joined me at the window, leaning her body against mine as she looked out.

  “See that?” I pointed. “There’s something silvery glinting on that branch in the middle.”

  “Yeah . . . I see.” She heaved a long sigh. “Okay, I better go get it before I forget. I don’t want whatever it is to get ruined if it snows again.”

  “I’ll come out with you,” I offered, slipping on my sneakers. “I need to rub our tree for good luck in the big game.”

  Sarah snorted. “Athletes. Y’all have more superstitions than anyone else I know. But I’ve never heard of rubbing a tree for luck.”

  “Hey, you rub what you like, and I’ll rub what I like.” I winked at her. “And if you’re looking for suggestions on what to rub, a couple just came to mind.”

  “I’ll just bet.” She grabbed an old jacket from the hook by the back door, and together we tromped through what was left of the snow to check out our tree.

  The nine months since Sarah and I had officially been a couple had been eventful ones. At first, we’d suffered through the agonies of a legitimately long-distance relationship, including endless telephone conversations that often turned X-rated and frequent weekend trips back and forth. I’d had some time off before the start of training camp, so I’d spent several weeks in San Francisco.

  When I’d had to leave Sarah in California, I’d come to a decision. If her job kept her in San Francisco, I was going to work out a way to move there, too. We didn’t want to live with an entire country between us any longer than necessary.

  But before I could tell Sarah my decision, she’d done what she had since the night we’d met: she’d knocked me flat on my ass with her own news.

  “The Crockers are expanding both the restaurants and the charity to the East Coast.” Sarah had sounded almost as disbelieving as I’d felt. “They offered me the chance to head up the PR department for the new operations . . . and I can make my base of operations wherever I want.”

  That was why one of the upstairs guest rooms had been transformed into an office, with state-of-the-art computers and elegant furniture. It gave me a special thrill to be able to do something like this for the woman I loved.

  My teammates teased me mercilessly about my new attitude on life. One of the linebackers, Clem, had slapped me on the back right after our last preseason game.

  “Damn, Maynard, if we’d known that all it would take to make you smile was getting you laid, we’d have set up that shit a long time ago.”

  Once upon a time, I might have taken offense. Not long ago, I would’ve stared him down and frozen him out. But instead, I’d chuckled as I’d answered.

  “Dude, if you think this smile is just from good sex . . . well, you’re not totally wrong, but there’s so much more than that to it. And wait and see. Sarah’s our good luck charm. This is going to be our year.”

  All the guys had laughed at me, but when we’d gone six and oh, becoming the only undefeated team in our conference, you better believe they were taking it seriously.

  Damn if I cared what they thought. Yeah, they were my team, my football family, but Sarah was everything to me . . . and more. Which was why we were standing out here in a chilly January breeze, looking at last year’s Christmas tree.

  “What is that?” Sarah stood on her toes. “It almost looks like paper or something.” She stretched up to retrieve the small box wrapped in shiny silver paper as I watched, my heart thudding with anxious anticipation.

  “It’s . . .” She held it in her hand, as though it might explode. “Gideon, what is this?”

  I shrugged. “Guess you should open it and see. Maybe Santa dropped one of your packages here when his sleigh took off?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Three weeks ago? I doubt it.” But she began to carefully tear the paper, her fingers trembling and her lips pressed together.

  When she’d unwrapped the hinged velvet box and pried open the lid, I dropped to one knee. Yeah, it was corny, but I was only going to do this once in my life. I wanted to get it right.

  “Sarah Jenkins, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her free hand flew to her lips, and I took the box away, pulling out the ring and sliding it onto her third finger.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

  “I hope that’s an oh,
my God, yes.” I was pretty certain, but then again, Sarah had been known to surprise me now and again.

  “Of course, it’s a yes. My God, of course it is.” She tugged on my hands, urging me to stand up. “Gideon . . . I absolutely want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want you to be my husband. And this—” She pointed back at our tree. “This was the perfect surprise.”

  I bent my head to kiss her, covering her lips with the promise of a million tomorrows we’d share.

  “I wanted you to have your ring before I got mine.” I rubbed my hands down her back. “The one I’m getting in a week . . . that one’s important. It’s been the golden ticket, one of my goals for years.” I brushed a kiss over her forehead. “But the one that’s on your finger now—that’s the dream. It’s the one that’s going to be part of us for the rest of our lives.”

  Sarah’s smile was dazzling. “I love you, QB.”

  Holding her face within my hands, I traced her lips with my thumb. “I love you, too, princess. Always.”

  Acknowledgments

  Years ago, I wrote a story about three best friends. It was inspired by something happening close to me, something that had a great deal in common with Leo, Quinn and Nate’s story, but ultimately turned out to be very different. When I decided to write football romance, that original story turned out to be the one I used.

  Leaving Quinn, Leo and Nate behind at the end of Days of You and Me wasn’t easy. I cried lots of tears as I finished writing that book. But it wasn’t really the end, because I had three more related books that were part of that series: stories about Tate and Gia, Tuck and Zelda and Gideon and Sarah.

  But now, my dears, we really are at the end of the Keeping Score books. No other character leaped up to demand a chance this time. We’ve reached the final happily-ever-after.

  Or have we?

  While there won’t be any more books based on Leo, Quinn and their friends, there will be a spin-off series called Varsity Rules. These books will be a bit shorter than the Keeping Score stories, and they will revolve around the trouble Birch College football team, whose assistant coach just happens to be Eli Tucker.