by Marie Force
“Thank you.”
The door opened, and Ryan came out with Darling. “Ready?” Darling asked Bernie.
Bernie nodded, and both men hugged Susannah.
“Give the president my regards,” Ryan said.
“We’ll miss you, man,” Darling said. “Are you sure you can’t come?”
“I’ve been there before. And besides,” he added with a meaningful look at Susannah, “I’ve got more important things to do right now.”
With her stomach in a knot, Susannah waved to their friends as they drove down the long road that led back to town. She wanted to race after them but couldn’t seem to make herself move as she was filled with anxiety over how completely alone she was with Ryan.
“Do you remember the first time we were here?” he asked. “We’d never even seen the Rocky Mountains, but there was just something about this place we loved from the first minute we saw it, remember? After growing up in Florida and Texas, we had nothing to compare it to, did we? The mountains and the trees and the snow. Air so fresh and cold it almost hurts to breathe. For the first time in my life I had money, but we were hesitant to make such a big impulse purchase. Wasn’t that what you called it? An impulse purchase?”
Susannah kept her back to him as a defense against the long-buried memories he was resurrecting.
“We never regretted it, though, did we? What would we have done without this place to hide out in during those crazy first few years with the Mavs? I know you love the McMansion in the city, but this is our home, Susie. This is where we belong. I know you feel it, too.”
She turned around and was careful not to look at him or get too close to his sore ribs as she brushed past him on her way into the house. Once inside, she went to the guest room and closed the door.
Susannah floated between sleep and wakefulness. Music. A guitar and singing. Ryan. Her eyes fluttered open, and she lay still to listen, feeling out of sorts as she awoke in the strange room. Oh, she sighed. Not that song...That’s not playing fair, Ry. Rod Stewart’s “You’re in My Heart,” the song they had danced to at their wedding. Ryan’s voice was deep, and his guitar playing had improved dramatically since she last heard him play. About three years ago, he’d decided to take up the guitar. Like everything else he tackled, he had mastered it in no time.
Susannah was dismayed to realize his song was having the desired effect. Her heart hurt when she remembered their wedding, just two weeks after Ryan had graduated from Florida and two weeks before he was due to report to the Mavs rookie camp. She had been so excited, so in love, and so filled with hope for their future. That was a long time ago, she reminded herself. And everything is different now.
The door opened. “Hey,” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
The hallway light made a silhouette of his big frame. “Yes.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Sort of.”
“I made some dinner.”
“You did?”
He chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just steak and a salad.”
“You did this all by yourself?”
“Very funny. I’ve been living alone for a while now. I had to conquer the kitchen.”
“An interesting development.”
“There’ve been a few of them. I’d like to tell you about them if you’ll let me.”
Susannah lay there for a moment longer, attempting to marshal the fortitude it took just to be in the same room with him. Finally, she sat up. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay.” He started to walk away but turned back. “I’m glad you’re here, Susie. This place wasn’t the same without you.”
After he was gone, she sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before she got up and went into the bathroom. When she finally ventured into the living room, she felt like a visitor in someone else’s home even though everything was just as she had left it. As she took in the cozy country-style living room, the stone fireplace that occupied one whole wall, and the high ceiling with the wood beams, she became aware of just how much she’d missed being there and how much she’d missed Ryan, too. Unnerved by the realization, she folded the Aztec blanket that had been left in a pile on the sofa, evidence he had napped, too. The man who never napped sacked out often at the cabin—the one place where he managed to completely relax.
Wearing a red flannel shirt with old jeans, Ryan came in from the deck with a plate in his hand. “Ready to eat?”
Susannah thought, as she often had in the past, that there was nothing about his appearance to give him away as the multi-millionaire that he was. Despite all his success, in many ways he was still the same boy he’d been when he picked her out of the crowd in a Gainesville restaurant more than eleven years ago.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Not a thing.” He held a chair for her at the dining room table. When she was settled, he lit the candles and poured her a glass of red wine.
Her stomach twisted with nerves. “Ryan, this is all really nice and everything, but...”
He reached for her hand. “It’s just dinner. We always had candles and wine, didn’t we?”
“Yes, I guess we did.”
“Then don’t sweat it.” He squeezed her hand and then released it so he could serve the salad.
After they had eaten in silence for several minutes, she said, “This is very good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He refilled her wine glass. “Can I ask you something?”
“Can I stop you?”
He flashed the smile that had made him a superstar with the women of Denver—and beyond. “Why’d you record the Super Bowl?”
Susannah froze. “I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
He laughed. “How do you accidentally record the Super Bowl?”
“It was probably set from when you lived there.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said softly.
Susannah got busy finishing her dinner.
“Did you record it because I was playing in the game?”
She looked up to find him watching her intently and knew there was no point in trying to evade him. He’d see right through her, just as he always had. “Yes.”
His eyes lit up with pleasure and what might have been hope. “Why?”
“I had plans with Henry that night, and I thought I might want to watch it later.”
“Because I’ve made such a football fan out of you?” he asked with a sad smile.
“Something like that.”
“Did you watch it?”
“No.” She took a long drink of her wine. “But I knew you had won.”
“Did you know I was hurt?”
She nodded. “I didn’t know it was so bad,” she said, gesturing to his battered face. “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s why you didn’t watch the game, though, isn’t it? Because you heard I got hurt. You still can’t bear to see that, can you, baby?”
“Stop it, Ryan,” she whispered, her eyes filling despite her desire to remain aloof.
He reached for her hand. “You always took it so hard when I got hurt. I hated that.”
Pulling her hand free, she cried, “Is that so wrong? That I don’t like seeing the man I l—” Appalled and shocked by what she’d almost said, Susannah’s hand flew up to cover her mouth.
“The man you what? The man you love? Is that what you were going to say?”
Desperate to escape him, she got up from the table and went outside to the deck. In the distance she could see the twinkling lights in the town of Breckenridge and the well-lit night ski runs on the mountain. Shivering violently, she swatted at the tears that chilled her face.
Ryan stepped up behind her and wrapped a blanket and his arms around her.
“I’m done, Susie.”
“With what? Trying to get me back?”
“No, with football. I’m retiring.”
She snorted with laughter. �
��Yeah, right. Nice one, Ry. You’re really pulling out all the stops here, aren’t you?”
He turned her so she faced him. “I’m not kidding. As soon as the team gets back from Washington, I’m meeting with Duke and Chet,” he said, referring to his coach and the team’s owner.
“You won’t do it.”
“I’m going to do it. I have three Super Bowl rings, a likely spot in the Hall of Fame, a Heisman Trophy, and more money than I can spend in a lifetime. I’ve got nothing left to prove to myself or anyone else. I want to go out while I’m still on top and while my body still has some life left in it.”
Susannah stared at him like she had never seen him before.
“I’m serious, Susie.” He held her close to him, and she let him because she was freezing. “So if you were to stay with me you wouldn’t have to live in fear of the man you love being hurt anymore.”
She pushed him away but was careful to avoid his broken ribs. “This doesn’t change anything.”
He took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. “It changes everything. There’s another reason I’m retiring, and it’s far more important than all the others.”
She tried to look away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“I want to spend as much time as I can with my wife. I want us to have a family.”
Susannah closed her eyes against the pain and shook her head. Her eyes flew open when his cold lips landed on hers. Imprisoned by his strong arms and the heavy blanket, Susannah was afraid she’d hurt him if she struggled.
His lips warmed as they moved over hers. He tipped his head to delve deeper, his tongue gentle but insistent.
When she recovered her senses, she discovered his shirt was bunched into her hands. Her mouth was open, her tongue wrapped around his, and there was no denying that she was kissing him back.
“Jesus,” he gasped when he came up for air. His breath came out as little puffs in the cold. “Susie. . .” He captured her mouth again, but this time there was nothing gentle about it.
She pushed at his chest. “Stop. Ryan. Stop. I don’t want this.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” he whispered as he trailed hot kisses along her jaw and then rolled her earlobe between his teeth.
“Please,” she moaned. “I don’t want to hurt you by fighting you, but if you don’t let me go right now, I’m going to hurt you.”
He stopped what he was doing to her ear and stepped back from her. “I’m sorry,” he said as he dragged his hands through his mop of hair. “I can’t help it. I want you so much, Susie. All I can think about is how it was between us when it was good—really, really good.” With his hands now on her shoulders, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Before everything...happened. I know you remember. You can’t convince me you don’t. I want us to find our way back to the good stuff. Can’t we do that? Can’t we please try?”
She trembled. Whether it was from the cold or the yearning she heard in his voice she couldn’t have said.
He put his arm around her and led her inside, urging her down in front of the fireplace. After he had tossed several more logs onto the smoldering flame, he lowered himself down next to her, grunting when he made contact with the floor.
“Are you hurting?” she asked.
“Not as bad as yesterday.”
She could tell she surprised him when she reached for his hand. “I want you to know I heard everything you said out there. And before, too.”
“I meant it. All of it.”
“I know.”
His brown eyes widened. “You do? You believe me?”
She nodded.
He looked like he could weep as he reached for her. “It’s going to be different this time, Susie. I promise. You’re going to come first.”
She gently disentangled herself from his embrace. “I’ve realized something in the last few days.”
“What, baby?” he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I love you, Ryan. I do.”
His smile lit up his face.
“I was crazy to think that would end just because we weren’t together anymore.” She grasped his hands. “But too much has happened for us to get back what we had.”
“No,” he protested. “That’s not true. We love each other. What else is there?”
“I waited years, Ryan—too many years—to have just the kind of conversation we’ve had tonight. But there was always something else that was more important, something else you had to attend to, or someone else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked hotly.
“It doesn’t matter now. None of it does. It’s too late. You need to accept that and let me go.”
“Never.”
“You promised me. You said if I gave you these ten days and still wanted the divorce you would give it to me. You promised you wouldn’t interfere with Henry and me. I’m going to hold you to it.”
“I’ve got eight days left, and now I know you still love me,” he said with the cocky smile that was all Ryan. “And if you didn’t want me anymore you wouldn’t have kissed me the way you did. So the way I see it, I’m still in the game.”
With an exasperated sigh, she got up from the floor. “You were right when you said it’s time to retire, Ry. Let’s go out while we’re still on top. Good night.”
Chapter 7
Susannah tossed and turned. She listened to Ryan play his guitar and was still awake when he crept into her room, brushed the hair off her face, and kissed her forehead.
“I love you, Susie,” he whispered. “I love you more than anything.”
Pretending to be asleep, she struggled to keep her breathing steady as her heart pounded. He left as quietly as he had come. When she heard the shower go on in the master bedroom, she wept bitterly into her pillow.
How long have I wished for him to give himself to me this way? Only now that he’s planning to give up football will I come first with him. It’s too little, too late. Choked by sobs, she was reminded of all the nights she had cried herself to sleep over the man who was once again occupying her every thought. I can’t put myself through this a second time. I’ve already been unfaithful to Henry by kissing Ryan like kissing was on its way out of style. Henry...you deserve so much better. I’ve disappointed you so many times in the past. I can’t let it happen again. I just can’t.
From the very beginning with Ryan, she had been sucked into his orbit. She left college to marry him and move to Denver when he signed with the Mavs. Her life revolved around him for so long that when their marriage ended, she discovered she had no idea who she was without him. She had spent the last year figuring that out and had been on her way to a whole new life when he’d come swooping back in, tipping her world upside down as only Ryan could.
Her sobs dissolved into hiccups as warm, bitter tears continued to cascade down her face.
“Susie?”
She suppressed a groan. “Go to bed, Ryan.”
He came in and perched carefully on the edge of the bed. “Are you crying?” Reaching out to caress her face, he said, “You are! Baby, what’s wrong?”
The light coming from the hallway made it possible for her to see that he wore only boxers. His wet hair was combed back off his freshly shaven face. He was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and God help her, she still wanted him. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Go to bed. Please.”
“I can’t leave you here upset and alone.”
“Why not? You’ve done it before.”
He winced.
She couldn’t see his eyes but could imagine the flash of anger and pain. Her eyes flooded with new tears.
“Susannah...You’re breaking my heart.”
“You broke mine,” she said between sobs. “More than once.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a pleading tone. “You’re the last person in the world I ever meant to hurt. You have to know that.” He reached for her and pulled her up and into his arms. “I’ve made mistakes,
” he said, brushing a hand over her hair. “I don’t deny that, but I want to make it right. You have to help me make it right.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” she retorted. “The time for making it right was when I was begging you to engage in our marriage. You’re so used to getting everything you want that you have no idea how to deal with the word no, do you?”
“I haven’t gotten everything I wanted,” he reminded her.
She pulled back from him, incredulous. “Not getting to play for the Cowboys does not count.”
“You never understood how I felt about that, so I don’t expect you to get it now.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve had a career most men would sell their souls for, and yet you’re still nursing that old wound, aren’t you? You’ve been so blessed that you can’t see how stupid it is.”
“I know I’ve been blessed, and I know now I was meant to play for the Mavs even if I grew up dreaming of a career with the Cowboys. I wouldn’t have three Super Bowl rings if the Cowboys had drafted me. I get that—now.”
She had never heard him say that before, and the revelation was intriguing. He had changed. “Ryan, I didn’t mean—”
He shook his head to stop her. “They said I was the best high school football player to come out of Texas in a decade, but I didn’t get to play for the team I grew up worshiping. I know you think it’s dumb in light of everything I’ve had with the Mavs, but it hurt. I don’t expect you to understand it. Why would you? After all, I had to tell you the quarterback is the one who throws the ball.”
She chuckled when she remembered his shock at discovering she knew absolutely nothing about football and wasn’t among the legions of Florida’s faithful who spent autumn Saturdays in The Swamp worshiping at the altar of Ryan Sanderson. “And no one throws the ball better than you do,” she said softly, regretting now that she had pulled the scab off an old wound. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to understand how much that hurt you.”
He shrugged. “It’s old news now, and in hindsight, I guess it was kind of dumb. I hardly have anything to complain about, do I? How did we get on this tired old subject, anyway?”