“But…” Aubrey’s jaw dropped open. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, Quinn’s on a plane? He’s supposed to be down in the locker room, ready to run out onto the field. The game is going to start in”—she glanced over her shoulder and checked the countdown clock on the JumboTron before she turned back to face Harvey—“less than ten minutes.”
“In seven minutes, to be exact.” Harvey swiped his face with his hand again. Man, he looked bad. Like he’d gone into total-panic, stress mode. Normally always in one of his fancy suits, he’d decided to show a little game pride today by wearing jeans and a Hawks jersey with his own last name on the back—figured. “But yes. He’s on the plane, headed back to his wife during her time of need. This means that…”
“Flynn is going to play the entire game.” Her mouth hung open, shock coursing through her veins like sludgy ice. Slowly she shook her head, still gaping at Harvey as the enormity of what was about to happen hit her. “Holy shit, Harv. He’s going to play the Super Bowl.”
Her boss winced. He really hated it when anyone called him Harv. “I know. I know.” Now he was rubbing the back of his neck, grimacing. “Come with me, Aubrey. We need to go make some quick announcements. Help me come up with the right thing to say.”
Wild. Harvey was actually asking for her help? He was the word man. The strategist. But right now…
He looked pretty lost.
Tamping down the swirl of excitement and worry that pulsed through her, she followed Harvey through the plush box, noticing how the entire mood of the room had become quiet. Somber. Worried.
Willow rushed toward her, sadness etched in her features so deeply Aubrey had to stop and grab hold of her, offering her a quick hug. “She’ll be all right,” Aubrey murmured close to her friend’s ear.
“She was bleeding,” Willow whispered, not pulling away. Wanting to keep this bit of information between themselves. “She was supposed to fly out yesterday evening to join us here, but she called Jared at the last minute and said she wasn’t feeling well. He’s been losing his mind with worry. I don’t think he got any sleep. She’d been experiencing a lot of pain and wouldn’t go to the doctor until finally…finally, she saw blood and freaked out.”
If Sheridan lost the baby, she didn’t know what Jared would do. They hadn’t made any public announcements yet, so she could assume only that they’d been waiting to make sure everything was good to go. And now look. How could they explain to the media that Sheridan Quinn had a medical emergency that was more important than the damn Super Bowl, without saying exactly what had happened?
“When did she go into the hospital?” Aubrey withdrew slightly from Willow, still holding her shoulders as she ignored Harvey’s mounting impatience. They were running out of time, she knew it, but she needed to hear what Willow had to say.
“This morning. Jared got on the plane not even an hour ago.” Willow closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “I’m so worried. I hope she’ll be okay. Nick said Jared looked so pale. I wish someone could’ve flown with him.”
“She’ll be fine. He’ll be fine, too. Jared is going to her and will be with her soon. They’ll get through this.” Aubrey’s voice was firm, as were her hands as she gave Willow a little shake before she released her. “I’ll be back.”
Aubrey strode toward the door, Harvey falling into step beside her. “You handled that well.”
“Willow’s a good friend. And she’s Sheridan’s best friend.” And Aubrey adored Sheridan, too. She’d come over during the infamous wine-and-ice-cream night, laughing with them as they’d eaten pizza and watched really bad movies on TV. Her two new friends had helped her forget momentarily her misery over ending it with Flynn. She’d desperately needed that.
And now Sheridan was suffering. She could be losing… No. Aubrey shook her head. She couldn’t bear to even think it. More like she needed to focus on what must be said.
Jared had left. He hadn’t abandoned his team. He’d gone to be with his wife. His family. That was the most important fact. This was about a man needing to be with the ones who mattered the most to him. No more, no less.
“We need to focus on three things,” she told Harvey as they walked.
“And what are they?” he asked.
She held out one finger, never breaking her stride. Neither did Harvey. “Quinn did not abandon his team.” Out went the second finger. “Right now, he and Sheridan deserve privacy and respect. We won’t release any personal information until he gives us the go-ahead. That’s imperative above all else.” And the third finger flew out. “We need to make a big deal about Flynn playing this game. That he has the support of the entire Hawks organization behind him. And that we believe he will take us to another Super Bowl win.”
“Perfect.” Harvey nodded once, the first glimmer of a smile curling his lips. “I’ve trained you well.”
She rolled her eyes as they exited the box and came to an abrupt stop at the wall of reporters and photographers standing before them. “Guess we’re already on,” she muttered beneath her breath before she turned on her bright, for-the-public smile. “Good afternoon, everyone. I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on with the Hawks starting lineup…”
…
“Have you been paying attention, son? I think you’ve figured out by now that you’re going to have to step in for Quinn.”
Flynn stared at Coach Walsh, his mind turning over what the man had just said. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t freaking believe it. “Are you serious?” he asked hoarsely, clearing his throat.
He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared. Yeah, he’d practiced like crazy with the rest of the team the past two weeks, but he couldn’t play the entire game. This was the freaking Super Bowl, the mother of all games.
Please. He was having a dream. Had to be.
“You’re serious,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded. He felt like his insides had turned into a death-defying amusement park full of roller coasters.
Walsh didn’t even flinch. “As a heart attack. Quinn’s on a plane headed back to California to be with his wife right now. This game is on you.” Walsh shoved Flynn’s shoulder, not that he moved much, what with his protective gear on. “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”
And with that, his coach turned away and headed out of the locker room.
Holy hot damn. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. About as real as it could get. He’d thrown himself into practice, trying to forget what happened between him and Aubrey. Then, a few days ago, Hamilton even had the nerve to say he wanted to kick Flynn’s ass, since Aubrey had been crying over him for two days straight.
That had blown Flynn’s mind. Why was she crying? Maybe when she said she’d felt something for him, she’d been telling the truth.
Maybe it had been as real for her as it was for him.
He’d promised himself he would go to her as soon as the season was over, if she was even willing to see him. He’d told Nick that, too, who’d seemed appeased, but damn. It was one bombshell on top of another. And he had to focus on the game. His team was counting on him.
He slammed his locker shut with a loud clang and started to head out of the room, but Nick stopped his progress.
“Time to step it up, Golden Boy,” Nick drawled. Flynn could tell Hamilton was trying to act like this was any other day, any other game where he’d give him an endless amount of shit. But he saw the worry in the man’s eyes. He looked freaked.
“What exactly happened?” Flynn asked as they both exited the locker room. The noise got louder. Deafening. He could hear the crowds cheering in the stadium, every single one of his Hawks teammates was standing nearby, the majority of them looking at him expectantly.
He was their leader now. Temporarily stepping in to take Quinn’s place. The man they all admired. The man all of the NFL admired.
Flynn needed to prove once and for all that he was starting material.
“Sheridan is having—medical problems.” Nick mad
e a face, one that said he was keeping a secret. That’s all right. Flynn wouldn’t prod. “It’s not looking good. Quinn said he had to be with her, so he left. No one argued. Makes me think it’s pretty damn serious.”
Flynn felt bad. Sheridan was a sweet woman, and he wouldn’t wish ill will on her or Quinn. He admired the man tremendously. He hoped she would be okay. “That’s awful.”
“It is,” Nick agreed grimly. “So you’re going to be our fearless leader today, Foley. I’ll help you.” They approached the rest of the team, all of them shifting aside so Nick and Flynn could join them. “We’ll all help you and support you. We’re here for you. But you gotta act like a leader, asshole. You gotta show us you were made to do this. This is your moment, and it’s our moment, too. We need to go out there and kick some ass.”
Okay. Nick was pumping him up, and hell if it wasn’t working. He stood taller, let his gaze track every one of the faces of his team members. They were all keyed up, they were worried that their quarterback left them, and they were looking at the second string to make things all better.
Resolve straightened his spine, and Flynn nodded. “I’m doing it. We all ready to do it?”
“Hell, yeah,” they yelled in a chorus of deep male voices.
Nick thrust his finger in Flynn’s face, his expression serious, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination Flynn usually saw only out on the football field. “If you mess this up, I will tear your fucking face off, Foley. I mean it.”
Huh, well there’s a way to motivate him. “Got it,” he said with a nod.
“I’m still pissed that you messed up what you had with Aubrey. That girl is brokenhearted,” Nick continued.
Aw, hell no. They were not having this conversation again, especially not right before the game. Talk about screwing with his concentration. “I told you what happened, Hamilton,” Flynn muttered. “And after what you said, I’m going to try and make it right with her. After the game, though.”
“Really?” Nick scratched his chin, then grinned. “Well, you need to show Aubrey what you’re made of out on that field, Foley.”
Didn’t anyone get it? What he had with Aubrey wasn’t about football. He didn’t want Aubrey to be with him because of what he did. He wanted her to be with him because of who he was. He was freaking in love with her, and yeah, so she’d been crying. That tore him up and confused him. He wanted to try and work it out, but he was also leery.
But you have to understand that it was real for me, too. Every bit of it.
He couldn’t get those last words out of his mind. Did she really mean that? That it had been real for her, too? Nick said she did, but how did he really know? Flynn had been so pissed in the actual moment, he hadn’t really heard her then. The words had only sunk in a few days later, but how could he go to her and ask what she meant by them? What if she threw them back in his face?
No way could he have risked it. Not at the moment. Too much was at stake, namely his career. He’d once again put football first, but had that cost him the love of his life?
Fuck. He didn’t know.
Flynn rubbed at his chest. Just hearing Aubrey’s name filled him with a sweet ache that he couldn’t deny. Despite his lingering anger and confusion, he missed her, more as every day passed by. She’d left him a text and a voicemail, but that had been early days, when he’d been pissed, so he’d ignored them both. Stupid move. One he couldn’t take back.
No matter how much he wished he could. But that was life. Maybe it was best. Maybe he needed to move on.
Without Aubrey.
The announcements were starting, and the crowd became even louder, if that was even possible. It was time for the team to run out onto the field. Time for the game to start. Breathing deep, Flynn shoved his helmet on and listened as they announced Jared Quinn wouldn’t be playing today due to a family medical emergency. That Flynn Foley would be taking his place as starting quarterback.
It was his time to shine and, by God, he wasn’t going to waste a moment.
Chapter Seventeen
Fourth quarter. Less than two minutes to go, and the Hawks were up by three. Three.
Three was not enough. Aubrey thought she was going to lose her mind, watching this game. She’d already picked off all the polish from her fingernails, Hawks blue fluttering to the ground in little flakes all around her.
And that had been only in the first quarter.
She was so tense she thought she would shatter if someone so much as looked at her. Flynn was playing a perfect game. He couldn’t get any better than he already was. His biggest problem? The opposing team was good.
Damn good.
“Nice touch, you wearing Foley’s number,” Harvey had told her just before the game began. “How’d you grab one? I know they weren’t selling them in the gift shops here.”
“I’ve always been wearing it,” she’d admitted, feeling like an idiot. She didn’t know what had possessed her at first to put Flynn’s jersey on this morning as she’d gotten ready. But the moment she’d seen her reflection in the mirror, the number fifteen on her chest, she’d known.
This was her way of telling Flynn that she missed him.
And then it all just fell into place. Now she looked like Flynn’s number-one fan, and she was perfectly fine with that. She didn’t care who saw her wearing his jersey. When she’d first arrived at the stadium, she’d figured no one would pay attention to her. She could sit in the luxurious box provided to the organization, endure Willow’s teasing for wearing the Foley jersey like the pitiful, lovesick idiot she was, and watch the game.
Instead, she’d become the lead publicist in this event, Harvey deferring to her. A few reporters had asked how she was feeling with Flynn starting, and their questions had thrown her.
Then she’d realized they still believed the relationship was going strong. That Flynn and Aubrey were still a thing. So she’d said the first thing that had come to her mind.
“I’m so proud of him and know he’ll do a great job. Football is his passion, and I’m sure he’ll give this game everything he’s got.”
She’d meant every word, and she knew they were pleased with her answer. But then they’d moved on, wanting to talk about Flynn’s skills, his stats, his throwing arm, all the stuff he’d always wished they’d talked about versus his sex life, his love life, his bench-warming status.
For once he was getting everything he wanted. And she couldn’t help but wonder where—or if—she fit in with his life.
“They’re going to score.” Willow settled in beside her, her voice ragged, her gaze locked on the field below them. “Damn it, they’re going to kick a field goal and tie the game.”
Aubrey closed her eyes. She couldn’t watch, couldn’t speak. All she could do was hope the kicker swung his leg wide and kicked the damn ball to the side. Or maybe he’d slip at the last minute and the ball would land before the goalposts, not between them.
Wish, wish, wish.
“Shit!” Willow yelled, and Aubrey’s eyes popped open to watch the crowd go insane, their roars earsplitting, even within the confines of the box.
The game was now tied. With one minute and twenty seconds to go.
“It’s our ball next,” Aubrey said to reassure her friend, to reassure herself. They didn’t have much time. The clock was just ticking away, and they needed to drive the ball down the field fast. “They’ll score. At least another field goal, and then it’s done.”
“Or we go into overtime.” Willow visibly shuddered. “I can’t take this. I don’t think I can watch it much longer.”
“Are you leaving?” Aubrey asked incredulously.
“Of course not.” Willow rolled her eyes. “Nick would kill me if I missed a glory moment. They’ve got to win this.”
“They will.” Aubrey brought her hand to her mouth and nibbled on her thumbnail. As a kid, she’d been a total nail biter and had broken the habit before she’d gone into middle school because, eww, gross. Junior-high girls wer
e mean, and they would’ve torn her to pieces over her nasty habit.
But now she was tearing her nails to pieces with her teeth, and it was weirdly reassuring. It gave her something to do besides pace and worry and fret.
Oh, wait. She was doing that, too.
“Your boy is playing like a god,” Willow said, her voice dripping with admiration. “He’s going to look like such a superstar when this is all over, whether they win or not. The media will eat him up and not in a bad way.”
“They will win,” Aubrey said again, more firmly this time, fighting down the pride that swarmed through her at Willow’s words, but it was no use. She couldn’t contain the smile that stretched her lips. “He is playing pretty well, huh?”
“Pretty well? That’s an understatement. He’s like a machine out there. His passes are scarily accurate.”
They were. Everything about him was scarily accurate out on that field. The grim determination she saw on his face told her he was playing with everything he had.
No surprise there. Just like everything else he did, he threw his all into it. She couldn’t help but remember their moments together. The naked moments and how focused he’d been then to bring her pleasure. But there were the other moments, too, when they’d just hung out and talked. How she’d gotten him to loosen up and realize there was more to life out there than football.
Maybe he’d backtracked on that thought, considering where he was at this particular moment.
Willow rose to her feet and walked toward the glass wall, then halted behind the owner, Charlie Monroe, and his family and guests. Aubrey stood, as well, stopping next to Willow to watch.
A timeout had been called, and Aubrey’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I can’t take this, either.”
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” Willow said drolly. “Isn’t this your job, Miss Hawks Publicist?”
She liked how the assistant had been officially dropped from her title. She was no longer an assistant publicist, working under Harvey. And he’d proved he thought of her as an equal by letting her handle the tremendously tense situation of Quinn leaving the game today. Did he know how much she appreciated that? Was this his way of apologizing for being such an ass and threatening her job?
Game For Tonight (Entangled Brazen) (Game for It) Page 18