The Game of Love: (BWWM Romance)
Page 14
He looked over at Sommer, and then back down at their sleeping daughter.
“Everything is perfect.”
Chapter Nine
“We didn’t come this far to go home empty-handed.”
Trent stood in the middle of the huddle and looked into the faces of their teammates. Most of them looked determined, but a few were nervous, which he understood. It was their first trip to the big game. Virtually, the entire world would be watching.
He was one of the few who’d already been, back in his second year when he’d played in Arizona, so the adrenaline was familiar. The rush was welcomed. The only difference was, this time, he’d be going home with a ring.
He looked towards Austin who, as usual, was focused.
“Fourteen and two, best record in the league and in franchise history,” he continued. “Three players lost to injury. Personal struggles,” his eyes flicked over to Cason who’d lost both parents in a car accident that year, designating him sole caregiver of his seventeen-year old sister, “…and tribulations. People saying that we weren’t going to make it…”
His gaze bore into the offensive line.
“What’s O-line’s job today?”
“Keep our QB’s jersey looking like he just came from soaking it in some Tide detergent,” came Tank’s southern drawl.
The men chuckled.
“Damn straight,” Trent added. “We plan to use the hell out of that rifle tonight.”
Austin “Rifle” Riley was the nickname the media had given Austin after he’d barreled a forty-yard pass to Cason for a game-winning touchdown in overtime against Washington.
“We’re going up against one of the greatest teams in the league,” Trent went on. “They didn’t get here by chance; they got here by skill. We know that we have the talent and we know that we have the determination, which is what separates us from the teams that didn’t make it. What separates us from the team that did, the team that’s out there waiting for us right now, is our heart. Our drive. No one got us here but ourselves. We won as a team, we lost as a team. We busted our asses in practice to get better, and we rallied around our brother when his world flipped inside out. We’ve grown and we’ve changed. This game is the pinnacle. This game is the top. It’s the peak of Mount Everest and I can see the summit.”
His eyes traveled around the circle.
“Everything that you have, everything that you can possibly give, you go out there and give it. Today, the only number that matters, is one-hundred.”
When the huddle broke, the men made their way out of the tunnel and were greeted by raucous cheer. Austin looked up into the massive crowd as people waved signs cheering on the team, as well as signs designed specifically for him. The outpouring of support left him with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.
When he finally reached the sideline, his mind went to Sommer. A few days after Olivia’s birth, Arielle, his nieces, and his nephew had flown back to Yearwood. Caroline had followed, and though Sommer had pleaded for her mother to stay a while longer, Caroline had reminded her daughter that she had to go back to run the café and oversee the hiring process of the person that would take Sommer’s position. After she was done with that, she’d hand business operations over to Reese and fly out to spend a couple of months with her daughter and grandbaby. Emma had made the decision to stay for a few weeks to help him and Sommer transition into parenthood.
Austin’s first five weeks as a father had been magical. He learned about all the things babies did that he hadn’t even known existed, Trent knowingly laughing at him along the way. He even learned that it was possible to find the straining face Olivia made when she was soiling her diaper absolutely adorable. His new role had even transferred over to the field since he wasn’t just playing for himself anymore. Realizing that had made him more focused, poised, and confident.
Once Dallas’ spot in the final game was secured, he’d made arrangements for his mother, Sommer, and Olivia to fly out to Glendale to be with him on that day. Sommer had been hesitant since she was still comfortable being in the shadows, but this was the woman that he’d planned to ask to marry him if Dallas won the game. He didn’t want to hide her any longer as if he was ashamed of the woman he loved, and the beautiful little girl they made together.
That morning, he assumed that he’d risen first since excitement had kept him restless for most of the night, but he found Sommer sitting on the balcony looking out towards the stadium. He moved to the doorway and, sensing his presence, Sommer had suddenly said, “You’ve got this, Riley,” before turning around to look at him.
“I’ve got this?” he asked.
“Under control,” she finished. “Pittsburgh doesn’t know who they’re messing with. My Austin Riley. My baby. I have nothing but faith in you, and I’m so proud of the work that you’ve put in not only to be a great player, but also an excellent father.”
The compliment had made him grin as sheepishly as a sixteen-year old boy. “Thank you, beautiful,” he replied. “I love you. I love you so much.”
Leaning down, he kissed her delectable, soft mouth. This was a woman that he was never going to let run away from him and that night, he was going to make sure that the world got the opportunity to meet his little Olivia, and the future Mrs. Austin Riley.
“It’s heads. Dallas will receive,” the referee said after Trent made the call. Austin slipped on his helmet, adjusted the chin strap, and looked over at Cason. Cason winked, and after Dallas’ twenty-yard return, the offense took the field.
*****
Sommer, shaking all the way down to her fingertips, was thankful that it had been Emma holding Olivia. Although she’d initially been concerned that the noise and crowd would be too much for Olivia to take, the little girl had loved it. From above in the luxury box, she’d studied the field, the people around them, and had even cried briefly when Cason’s fiancé, Amelia, had to hand her back to Emma to go grab a bite.
The game had been intense and tied virtually every step of the way. Now, there were seven seconds left on the clock and Dallas was down by four points. It was fourth down and long at the goal line, and though Austin appeared collected as the coach relayed the final play to him, Sommer knew that his heart was pounding in his ears. If he didn’t make a touchdown on this last drive, that was it. Pittsburgh would get the title.
Sommer’s phone vibrated in her pocket and startled her out of her seat. Seeing her uncle’s name across the screen, she eased into the slightly quieter hallway, but kept an eye on the field.
“Uncle Reese?”
“Hi baby girl.” From the tone of his voice, she immediately knew that something was wrong.
Walking down the hallway, she ducked into an alcove. “Uncle Reese, what is it?”
He didn’t respond.
“Reese Williams…”
“How soon can you get home?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s your mother, Sommer.”
When the crowd roared, Sommer looked up just in time to see Austin and Cason connect for a touchdown in the end zone.
*****
The moment the clock went to zero, Austin looked up at the scoreboard to make sure he truly understood what was going on around him. With only seven seconds to go, he and Cason had pulled off nothing short of a miracle play that had put Dallas on top. They’d won. They’d really won.
He nearly fell over as players crushed into his back, squeezing him into the air. It was the first time in his life that he’d seen so many grown men in tears, but they’d fought hard to get where they were. It was an overwhelming feeling to see that their hard work had ultimately paid off.
Cason was in the middle of the field on one knee with his forehead against the back of his palm, the coaching staff and the rest of the team surrounding him. In week six, when Cason’s parents were killed, he’d assumed that he’d lost everything. But the team had rallied around him. He’d fought for himself and his sister, and Amelia had been his rock.
Austin walked over, knelt with him, and soon the crowd also lulled to give Cason his moment of silence. After a couple of minutes, he raised his head to the sky and he recited a silent prayer before standing. He received congratulatory hugs and pats from the team, and then smiled at someone standing behind Austin. Amelia pushed her way through the crowd and rushed into his arms.
Austin turned around to find his mother standing there with Olivia, but Sommer was nowhere to be found. He gently touched Amelia on the back of her arm.
“Where’s Sommer?” he asked.
“We couldn’t find her,” she replied. “She got a phone call, stepped out, and when I went to get her so she could come down with us, she’d just disappeared.”
A man came running up to Austin. “They’re naming you MVP, Riley. Did you want to do your special announcement before or after your speech?”
Austin scanned the sea of faces for the one he wanted to see the most. “We’ll do it after.”
A championship T-shirt was handed to him and he tossed it over his shoulder, lifted Olivia from his mother’s arms, and parted the crowed as he walked up to the podium to give the customary MVP speech. Looking around one last time, he hoped Sommer showed soon.
“Before I actually begin my speech,” he began, “I would like to introduce everyone to a special lady in my life.”
A cameraman zoomed in on Olivia’s face.
“This is Olivia Camden Riley, my little princess.”
In the luxury box, Sommer had lost track of time as she sank to the floor. Her uncle was still on the phone, but his words were coming through in short bursts: “metastasized,” “surgery,” “collapse.” Somewhere between the words, the dizziness, and the chaos swirling in her head that impeded any ability for coherent thought, the only thing she’d been able to make out was that her mother needed her.
“Olivia Camden Riley.”
Her head popped up when she heard Austin’s voice and there, on a flat screen TV, was their daughter’s little light-brown face.
“Austin, no,” she squeezed out. She raced back the luxury box and searched for Amelia and Emma, both who were nowhere to be found. Grabbing her purse, she dashed to the elevator. She loved Austin with every fiber of her being, so she completely understood why he continuously fought her on the issue of keeping their relationship a secret. But there was still something bigger that Sommer was concerned about. Something she was pretty sure that neither she nor Olivia would be able to handle.
“Austin Riley has a baby?’ She overheard a woman say as she waited for the elevator.
“Seems so,” the friend standing next to her answered. Then both women exchanged a look as the camera zoomed even closer to Olivia’s face and Austin’s finger stroking her cheek. His much lighter finger compared to Olivia’s slightly darker, cappuccino complexion. Lighter than her mother’s, but darker than her father’s, a perfect blend of the two.
“Hmm,” the first woman spoke up.
“My thoughts exactly,” the friend chimed. “Where did Irish-Italian Austin Riley get that cute, little mocha baby?”
*****
Luke Maisley cursed as he pushed his rental car over a bumpy, unlined road down the back street of an eerie Alabama neighborhood. Moving the lever to park, he switched on the cabin light and double-checked the directions that the man at the gas station had given him, secretly wishing that he’d written them down wrong for an excuse to hightail it out of the creepy suburb that looked straight out of the 1950s. But he’d gotten it right: four miles down Lee Street, left onto Naples, the last house on the right: the one with the purple wisteria clinging to the windows.
Parking along the curb in front of the house, he began to question his judgment. Generally, the only news Kyle Stallworth ever brought to the table had to do with Kyle himself. Luke never complained because both their careers had been bolstered by Kyle’s high-profile relationships, public controversial statements, and brushes with law enforcement. However, he was admittedly doubtful when Kyle had told him that this man, William Riley, was supposedly Dallas quarterback Austin Riley’s estranged father.
If Luke remembered clearly, when Austin had spoken about his father on draft day, he’d alluded to the press that his father was dead. Because no one was the wiser, everyone had accepted it and moved on to asking him about how different he thought life in Dallas would be compared to what he’d been used to in Tallahassee for the past four years. But if Kyle was correct—and Luke had a hunch that he was—then finding out that Austin’s father was alive and living in abject poverty was already the start to a pretty solid story that would rattle the millionaire QB’s wholesome, pretty-boy image.
A faint spot of light in one of the windows indicated that there was the possibility that someone actually lived there. Cutting the engine, Luke hopped out of the vehicle and made his way up the concrete walkway. He tightened the straps on his leather satchel and walked through a wooden gate attached to the front porch, but as he prepared to knock on the door, emerging from the far end of the porch was a snarling, brown and black Doberman Pinscher.
“Easy now,” Luke tried to coax as he decided what would antagonize the dog least: taking a step backwards or remaining firmly in place. The dog bared its teeth in response and Luke’s eyes darted to the car. If he ran now, there was still a chance he could make it inside the car before the dog had a chance to pounce.
“Heel!”
The command came from inside the house and Luke carefully pulled his attention from the dog and placed it on the tall man standing in the doorway. If he’d had any doubt before, all of it was dashed as he looked at the spitting image of Austin.
“He’s all bark,” the man warmly reassured, stepping onto the porch. He bent to scratch behind the dog’s ear, and Luke couldn’t believe that the same vicious creature that had made his life flash before his eyes was now whimpering under its master’s gentle massaging.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Luke replied.
“You a reporter?” The man eyed his bag.
“Yes. Luke Maisley. I’m a journalist. Are you William Riley?”
He turned back to the dog. “Depends. Are you here about Austin?”
“Yes.”
“Never thought I’d ever see one of you out here.” He motioned to the front door. “You want to come in, or do you want to stay out here on the porch with Gus?”
Luke nervously chuckled as he followed the man into the dark house.
Inside, Luke half-expected to walk in and find images of Austin ranging from birth to adulthood plastered everywhere, but instead, the paneled walls were bare. The front room housed an old, patchwork recliner, a mismatched sofa, and a flat-screened TV in the middle of the hutch of an armoire. Quite fittingly, the TV was turned to the championship game. Austin appeared on the screen, standing on the sidelines with his hands tucked into his pads as his defense massacred the Pittsburgh offense.
There’d been something markedly different about the QB this past season. He’d obliterated records, putting up more yards in a single-season than any other player in football history. It was as if there was an invisible force right there with him on the field helping him call plays, dodge sacks, and adding wings to his feet.
“Lemonade?”
Luke carefully took a seat in the sofa. “Sure.”
William reappeared with two glasses in his hand and a platter of barbecued chicken wings.
“The lemonade’s not bad,” he seemed to be warning, “But it’s nothing compared to what my wife used to make.”
He placed the glasses and platter on the coffee table and sank into the recliner. When Austin’s face reappeared on the screen again, William looked up and smiled in such a way that Luke wondered what could have possibly caused the father and son to be so estranged.
“You said you never expected me to come out here? You mean, a reporter?” he asked.
William nodded and tore his gaze away from the screen. “Most people think that Austin’s fathe
r’s dead.”
Luke reached for his glass of lemonade. “Which I did, up until a few days ago.”
“What happened a few days ago?”
“A source.” Luke took a sip and the overpowering tartness of the lemon bit at his tongue. Clearing his throat, he put the glass back on the table. “Someone recently informed me that you were alive and living out here in Montgomery County.”
William swigged his drink as if he wasn’t aware that it needed at least four teaspoons more sugar. “Had to be somebody from Yearwood. Not many people know where I went.”
The crowd roared and he craned his neck just in time to see Austin throw a thirty-yard pass to Cason Allen. William pumped his fist and roared.
“Do you watch all of his games?” Luke asked.
“Every single one of them.” William took another sip. “If it wasn’t for football, I probably wouldn’t even have cable, but I got one of those special packages to make sure I can see every game Dallas plays.”
Austin handed off the ball to the running back who picked up another first-down on the carry.
“You must be really proud of him,” Luke continued. A flash of sadness moved across William’s face as he reached for a wing.
“I am.”
“Mr. Riley,” Luke began, “Do you mind if I ask you some questions about Austin for a piece I’m doing?”
William pumped his fist again as Austin dodged a heavy lineman racing towards him to land a ten-yard pass to Trent Holloway.
“Don’t think my son would like that very much,” he advised. “Think he’s content with having the world think that I’m dead.”
Luke searched his mind for an explanation, unprepared for the fact that maybe William didn’t want to remain hidden in the shadows. He’d assumed that he would have wanted the world to know that he was alive in order to reap some of the benefits of Austin’s celebrity.
“You might think differently if I told you my source.”
William cringed as a defender crushed into Austin, but then celebrated when a penalty was called.