by Sosie Frost
“You do?”
“I’ve told Eric time and time again to step away from the game. He’s had three shoulder surgeries in six years, and he’s lucky he can afford the orthopedic specialists I’ve met over my career. He’s not young anymore, not healing as easily.”
“Eric will never listen.”
“Of course not. Neither will Jude. Football is who are they are.”
“Jude is more than the game.”
“Does he know that?” Regan arched an eyebrow. “This is his life’s ambition, Aurora. Your life is only beginning—finally out of school, entering the medical field, starting a family. But Jude’s only dream is ending. Walking away isn’t an option.”
“Even if it destroys him? Pulls us apart?”
“No. Because you’re the one who will put him back together. Where will you be during the game? Are you going to the stadium?”
“Not as part of the medical team. I’m not sure how useful I’ll be waddling the sidelines. But…”
“But?”
“I have a ticket.”
“Will you go?”
“I can’t watch him do this to himself.”
Regan didn’t like my answer. “You’re going to the game.”
“But—”
“You’re in love with this man. Love means supporting your family, even when it frightens you. If you don’t go, you’ll regret it. And if you leave him—” She paused. Cleared her throat. Brushed a quick tear from her eye. I watched her in amazement. “Don’t waste the time you have with the man you love. I lost your father in that car accident. And not a day goes by I don’t regret that I didn’t take two minutes to sit and eat breakfast with him before he left for work. I sacrificed our final minutes together so I could fix my makeup…even though the last thing he said before he left the house was that I looked beautiful.”
I stayed quiet. We never spoke about Dad. An unwritten rule cast by two mourning women.
“This will be the greatest moment of Jude’s career,” she said. “Don’t let him experience it alone. Fight for every second you have together. Don’t walk out of his life when he’ll need you the most.”
“He won’t listen to me. He knows how dangerous it is.”
“Of course he does.”
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted was a life with Jude,” I said. “I’ve imagined the perfect house with a perfect baby and a perfect love—”
“Stop,” Regan said. “There is no perfect.”
“How can that be?” I asked. “You’re perfect.”
She let herself weep. “Perfect is an illusion. It’s a way to live a life that is crippled with insecurity and heartbreak. I’ve spent my years keeping a perfect house, making perfect meals, raising perfect children, and performing a perfect job. And do you know what I miss most?”
“What?”
“The days when I could leave a plate in the sink after dinner and take a walk with your father. The times I wore only a messy pony tail because I knew he’d always find me beautiful. The mornings when I’d let the bed stay unmade because I knew someone would wait for me in the rumpled blankets that night.” She lowered her gaze. “The only time I was ever truly perfect was when I was with him.”
“I…had no idea.”
“I never shared. I never told you that what I do now, the life that I live, is fake. I’ve been pretending.”
“I understand,” I said. “More than you realize.”
“I hope you don’t, for your sake. This is the flawed life of a woman who never learned to love again. It’s the shell of someone who pretended for so long that everything was okay. I lied to myself for twenty-five years.”
“Mom…”
“No, Rory.” She never called me by my nickname before, but she smiled as she said it. “You don’t want to be perfect. You want those little messes. You want the complications. You want the man you love, despite his flaws and stubbornness. You’re strong enough to survive being beautifully imperfect. And I love you so much for it.”
“I love you too.”
“Don’t give up on Jude,” she said. “No one deserves a broken heart, least of all someone as loving as you.”
I waved her close. She reached out, stiffly, but I pulled her into a hug.
She was right. I loved Jude. Nothing should have stopped me from standing by his side. Not a game, not another season, not even any of the consequences to his future health.
I couldn’t stop him from playing, but I sure as hell could be there to cheer him on.
And once the game was done?
I’d prove to him he had more in this life than just football.
He’d have a family.
23
Jude
The shoulder pads weighed heavy on my back.
I stretched the jersey over the pads. The number thirty-six was emblazoned on the front. I stared at myself in the mirror, running a hand over the uniform.
None of the other guys admired themselves, but I permitted myself a moment of vanity. Hell, I’d trained my entire life for the opportunity to take the field and guide my team to the ultimate victory. If no other memory stuck in my head, I’d make sure I remembered this moment.
But instead of a champion, I saw only the dark circles under my eyes. The tremor in my hand. The scruff on my chin.
I’d lost weight. Most guys did this late in the season. The pain caught up to us, and only the prospect of a championship gave us the endorphins and adrenaline to step onto the field.
And the drugs.
We all loved the drugs.
The redheaded trainer had been an ally this year—treating migraines, broken noses, twisted ankles, and jammed fingers with decorum. I’d spent six months with her, saw her every day, recognized her fiery red hair. I couldn’t remember her name.
But she smiled anyway. Held up the syringe.
“Torodol injection,” she said. “You know the routine.”
Affectionately called Vitamin T, the drug was only way the team could face another bruising game. The anti-inflammatory didn’t take all the pain away, but it dulled the edge. Every man had a bruise on his ass from the injection site, but no one complained. It was better than the alternatives.
I winced as she injected it, but the trainer only nodded. “Good luck out there, Jude. Be careful.”
“Thanks.”
She tended to the offensive line next. The guys already had their pants down for her, but Elle snapped the candid photo before the trainer got there.
“One for the victory party, boys!” The camera hadn’t left her hand all week. “I’ll frame this one!”
Lachlan swept her into his arms. “If you want a picture, Red, all you gotta do is ask.”
“I have enough photos of your ass, Charming.” She winked to the team. “On and off the field.”
The guys cheered. Lachlan slapped his ass and pulled Elle close for a kiss.
I couldn’t watch any more. I had to warm-up anyway. No sense getting claustrophobic in the Rivets’ locker room. I retrieved my helmet and headed to the field.
I made it one step into the tunnel before I found her.
Rory waited for me.
A Rivets’ shirt stretched over her tummy, our emblem encased in a heart that centered over the baby. She’d styled her hair, painted her nails black and gold, and greeted me with a smile that trembled immediately into weepy tears.
I caught her in my arms as she wobbled towards me.
“I couldn’t let you go on the field without wishing you luck first,” she whispered.
I dropped the helmet so I could hold her closer. My hand tangled in her hair. The other fell to its rightful place.
Over her tummy.
Over the baby.
My baby.
“I don’t need luck with you here,” I said. “Doc, I know you don’t want me playing—”
She covered my mouth with a finger, interrupting me. “I have another wish to make.”
I tilted my head.
“My first
wish…” Her eyes widened, dark and amazing. She stunned me to silence. “I’d wished to stay in the fellowship. I was desperate, and I vowed to do anything keep in the program. I ended up tangling us both in the best lie of my life.”
“Rory—”
“My second wish was selfish. I’d wanted one night with you. I wished that I could have you, feel you, and take just one moment in time to make everything perfect. And, instead of one night, you gave me five months. And every touch, every kiss, every moment of pleasure was greater than the last.”
She didn’t know pleasure yet, didn’t know how much I loved her.
I longed to prove it.
“My final wish…” Rory’s voice broke. She sniffled. “My wish…”
“Save it.” I kissed her, quickly, fiercely.
“Why?”
“Because my first wish was to keep playing football,” I said. “That’s come true, no matter if it was the right decision or not. My second wish…” I touched her tummy again. “I never wanted a family, Rory. Never tried to find someone to share my life with. And then there was you.”
She sighed. “Me?”
“You didn’t enter my life; you gave it meaning. You made it worth something more than stats and injuries and whatever pride a number on a jersey gave me. And I didn’t just get you…I also got Genie.” I pulled her closer. “My second wish was that the baby would be mine.”
Rory cried, but she didn’t brush away the tears. “Of course she’s yours. I wish she was your blood, but—”
“That doesn’t matter. I love her. I love you.” I kissed her once more. “My third wish is that you’ll let me keep loving you. That we can be together. That we…endure this together.”
“It was wrong of me to leave you,” she said. “The baby needs you. I need you. And I want to help you, Jude. I’ll be there, every step of the way. I promise.”
I grinned. “I never knew I wanted something as much as this game.”
“If it helps, you’ve already won my heart.”
“Doc, I haven’t even started working for it yet. That changes now.” I bumped her head back for a kiss. “I’ve gotta go win a football game, but the instant I’m in your arms…”
“You focus on the game first, All-Star. You better bring Genie home a win.”
“Don’t waste a wish on that.” I kissed her. She tasted like roses and sweetness. “I’ll make you proud.”
“Just don’t make me worry.”
The guys poured from the locker room, heading to the field to warm-up. I glanced at her tummy. She was ready to pop, and I had no idea how she remained standing.
“You’re making me worry,” I said. “Are you sitting with Leah and Piper?”
“We’ve got ourselves a luxury box right next to the bathrooms.” She patted her belly. “Probably the best seat in the house while Genie bounces on my bladder.”
“Go. I’ll find you after…during the celebration.”
She pulled me in for a kiss once more. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
A wayward hand struck my shoulder pads. Jack hauled me from Rory with a shake of his head.
“Wine and dine her later, All-Star,” he said. “We got a game to win.”
I hesitated only to rub her tummy. Jack swore, ripped his glove off, and did the same.
“Can’t hurt,” he laughed. “Thanks, Rory. Keep an eye on Leah?”
“I’ll strap her to her seat if the game gets rough.”
“Hmm, restraints.” Jack grinned. “Might have to try that. Maybe that will do the trick.”
Rory waved goodbye and waddled through the tunnel, aiming for the VIP boxes somewhere above the field. Jack’s voice stayed low.
He walked with me to the field. “I thought you weren’t playing.”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“I…wasn’t given a choice.”
He swore. “Can you handle this?”
“It’s never stopped me before. I’m gonna get you that win.”
“And I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”
I followed our quarterback to the field. We led the guys through the warm-ups and returned to the locker room before player introductions.
This was it.
Ten minutes to go until the biggest game of our fucking lives.
My heart pounded too quick, keeping most of my nerves suppressed under the rush of blood through my ears. The constant woosh was a comfort at least. Better than the crush and grunts of the linebackers who would soon aim for me.
Jack gathered the team in the tunnel, pulling us together with shaken hands and slaps to our helmets. He didn’t have to hop a bench for his speech, we gave him our attention. He shouted over the roar of the crowd.
“This isn’t a game anymore! We have an opportunity, men. And we’re going to seize it.”
The guys cheered. Jack held up a hand to silence them.
“I’m looking around, and you know what I see?” he asked. “Men who have been defined not by their actions, but by their reputations. Men shackled to their images. Bad boys. Beasts. Adrenaline junkies. All-Stars. They define us by what they think they see in us. Trouble-makers and men looking for a score. Men who aim to hurt. Men who live dangerously. Men who are nothing but a statistic.”
The guys quieted. Jack grinned.
“I see more. I see men who I’m proud to call my friends. Men who want to be protectors instead of monsters. Men who put their families first. Men who are just learning what family is, and that they aren’t in this world, on this team, alone.”
A few men clapped. My adrenaline surged, and it felt good. Clean.
I was ready.
Jack held his arms out. “You know we aren’t stereotypical, bad boy jocks. We’re a team. And we’re not just taking the field looking for a win. We’re playing tonight to prove who we really are. We’re proud.” The team cheered. “Fierce!” They grunted. “The baddest motherfuckers on the field!” The guys hollered.
“Fertile!” Lachlan pumped his fist in the air.
Jack crossed his fingers. “Holy fuck, I hope so.”
The guys laughed, but Jack wasn’t done. He met every single stare, faced his men, and grinned.
“We are more than just the number on our jerseys and the reputations that precede us. We’re a team. We’re a family.” He held his hand up. We joined him, each man reaching into the huddle. “We made it where we are fair and square. And now? We’re gonna win!”
The team roared just as the announcers introduced the players.
The stadium rocked with excitement, and we rushed onto the sidelines to prepare for the greatest game of our lives. Music swelled. The fans screamed. And the team braced for kickoff.
Then we hit a goddamned wall.
I’d played twelve years in the league. Held more rushing records than I could count. And I’d never played a game where every yard, every inch we gained was wrung from our own blood.
We managed a field goal in the second quarter after Jack took a blistering hit and nearly stayed down. He clawed his way out of the grass, hobbling to the sidelines. His limp matched Lachlan’s. And no one bled as much as Cole, breaking his nose the old-fashioned way and dripping over his jersey, the field, and every towel offered to him.
Half-time was a welcomed relief. We crowded in the locker room, fucking exhausted, staring at a score of seven to three. I didn’t expect to go into the second half losing, but I sure as hell wasn’t letting it stand. I’d been stuffed at the line, held, tackled the instant the ball touched my hands.
No more.
We dragged our broken and bruised bodies into the fourth quarter, but the score stayed the same.
We needed a touchdown, and no way in fucking hell was I letting this game end without earning those six points. Not now. Not after the career that got me here, the blackmail that kept me on the team, and the woman watching in the VIP seats above.
With five minutes remaining, Coach Thompson
ordered a hurry-up offense. Time had stopped while we lined up on the thirty, and we were closer to the end zone than we’d been all day.
Jack relayed the play to the huddle. A pass.
“No.” I grunted the words through sheer exhaustion. “Give me the ball.”
Jack eyed the team. “Think you can get through?”
“They’re expecting a pass. Give me the ball. I’ll get our yardage.”
“You sure?”
Lachlan agreed. “I’m getting nowhere. They’ve been all over me down field. I want a chance to block and hit one of these fuckers myself.”
Jack grinned. “That’s all I needed to hear. Wait for the audible.”
We broke the huddle, and I lined up behind Jack, heart-pounding. The tremor in my hand had cleared, and the throbbing pain in my head dulled.
This was it.
One chance. One good run, and we’d change the momentum of the entire fucking game. I had to get the guys a little closer to the goal. Open up the field.
Jack barked the audible. No fog this time. My mind immediately deciphered the play-call.
A run up the middle, just as I’d asked.
I felt it—that instinct when I knew I’d break through the line of scrimmage. Sweat dripped in my eyes. I cracked my fingers as I clenched a fist.
Jack shouted for the snap. I raced forward and took the hand-off, securing it against my midsection and bursting into the fray. Bodies twisted. Men swore. Blood pumped.
And I found my daylight.
I bent, churned, and rushed through. Past the linebackers and into the open field. Through the secondary as they broke ranks and turned to chase me.
The end zone lay before me…undefended.
The stadium thundered as I sprinted the field. I cut outside, chasing the sidelines as the hash marks counted down for me.
The twenty.
The fifteen.
The ten.
The defense closed in. I saw the safety rushing across the field, full-speed and aiming for me.
I could either brace for the hit or cross into the end zone. I chose wrong.
I dove across the goal line, slamming into the painted grass just as the safety struck me.
Full force. Helmet first, he crashed against my head.