“I’m sorry,” she says as she tries to catch her breath. She leans in close as she calms down and the others return to their own conversations. “You’re far from the first person to tell me that. I’ll keep my own opinions to myself, but for what it’s worth, Mitch has come home raving about Luke’s newfound fire. We both attribute that to you. So keep pushing. Keep walking beside him. Keep holding his hand. He didn’t have that fire when he was with her. He’ll be down on that field playing for you today, not for her. Never for her.”
It’s my turn to wipe my eyes, but not because I’m laughing. I hold her words close to my heart.
A few minutes later, the announcer calls the opposing team to the field. They run out to their sideline, and then the announcer says, “And now, your Vegas Aces!”
The crowd filling the stands goes wild, deafening screams all around for the hometown heroes as they run onto the field.
I find the DALTON eighty-four jersey right away as he runs beside NOLAN number eighteen, the same number my brother has worn since he was in peewee league. My heart races, and I can’t imagine what he’s feeling down on that field if I’m feeling it so strongly up here watching him. Is this just something he’s used to dealing with? Or does he get nervous before each game?
Is he as worried about getting hurt as I am?
The game starts, and I find myself on the edge of my seat as I start to wonder why I didn’t pick up a love for this sport ages ago. I guess I’m a little more invested now that the guy I married is on the field. And Nicki’s right. Both Luke and Josh only play the first quarter. They’re on the sidelines with baseball caps instead of helmets and towels slung around their necks as they watch their teammates give a real beating to the Seahawks.
I’m relieved when the game is over even though Luke spends most of the time on the sidelines. I do manage to get myself some nachos at the half, but only because he isn’t playing.
Nicki leads me down to the post-game room, where wives, girlfriends, kids, and families wait for their players to emerge from the locker room. The first one comes out about a half hour after the end of the game. Nicki explains how the coach says a few words, they head off to showers, and then they have interviews with the media, so we’ll usually have to wait about an hour. And she’s right on the money. Luke walks out with Josh, both of them looking exhausted as they walk slowly toward us.
Nicki beelines for my brother, and I watch as she inspects a shiny bruise on his arm after kissing him.
Luke pulls me into his arms and leans his forehead down to mine.
“Good game,” I say softly.
“Thanks,” he murmurs. He draws in a deep breath.
“Hey, you okay?” I back up a little so I can get a look at him.
He leans down to kiss me softly. “Better now,” he says.
I melt, and then I mirror my best friend as I inspect his arms for new bruises. I see a few scratches, too. “How’d these happen?” I ask, lightly fingering near them.
“The turf is rougher than it looks. Especially when a lineman slams you to the ground and you slide across it.”
I wince.
“It’s fine,” he says, clearly trying to be the tough guy and especially here, where ears of teammates who want his position might be listening. I never realized how protective he needs to be over his place on the team until Nicki pointed it out just before today’s game started.
I glance around at the men gathered. They’re all moving just a little more slowly than they were when they pranced in this morning, but it’s because they all just took a beating out on that field even though they won. I can’t help but wonder why they do this to themselves.
And even though we’re not supposed to talk about it, I can’t help but wonder what comes next.
CHAPTER 22
The next preseason game is an away game, and I’ve hardly seen Luke all week since he’s been at camp all day every day. He comes home bruised and exhausted, and our conversations are short as he goes to bed nearly immediately after he walks in the door and he’s out the door before sunrise.
It’s an intense, hard schedule, but it’s one he has to keep up in order to keep his place on the Aces. I guess I’m starting to get it now.
He loves this game. It’s his life. It’s his path and his passion.
But he’s in a contract year. He’s one bad landing, one hit too hard, one injury away from early retirement. He’s one conversation with the boss that goes the wrong way from being traded. He has proven his worth over the last nine years, but no matter how indispensable I make him to the team, ultimately if he doesn’t perform on the field, it doesn’t matter.
Fans can love him, and we can post his thirst traps, but those things won’t keep him here.
He can still contribute to the community wherever he lands. It’ll make him attractive to other teams, I suppose. But he doesn’t want to go to another team, something he’s made very clear.
I keep to my side of the house and avoid Michelle at all costs.
They lose the second preseason game, which I don’t attend since it’s in New Orleans. Of course we can travel to any game we wish, just as anybody can, but Nicki explained that traditionally wives stay home for the preseason away games. Many of the wives have children, and some have their own jobs, but all have responsibilities back home that make it difficult to take off for three days. Traveling is part of the deal for Luke and the other guys. Their hotel rooms and meals are included, and it’s not like I’d be taking a vacation with my husband since it’s not really part of the deal for spouses.
But Nicki and I have made plans to go to the first game of the season in a few weeks.
Luke informs me that he played exactly four plays anyway—not because he wasn’t needed, but because they benched their top players early to keep them healthy when the other team had scored twice in the first few possessions.
There are two more preseason games, and this coming weekend is at home against the Broncos.
That means Jack will be in town.
I’m hopeful we don’t have to see him, but I haven’t gotten the official word yet from Luke as he goes into his final week of training camp.
He’s practicing at the stadium on Friday when the doorbell rings mid-morning. I’m in my office, and I have no idea where Michelle is—nor do I care—as I stand and head down the hallway toward the foyer.
But apparently Michelle is home because she beats me there. I hear voices as I approach that direction, and I quiet my steps. I stop, standing just around the corner from them to listen.
“Is she home?” the voice is low, but not too low to miss his words. I immediately recognize it.
“Yeah,” Michelle says softly. I hear the telltale smack of a quick, stolen kiss.
Wait a minute.
Michelle and Jack are kissing now?
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know,” he says. “I figured it would be easy to play it off that I was visiting my brother.”
She laughs. “He’s not even home. He’s at practice.”
What the hell?
And...what the fuck?
How do I even play this little twist?
“Come on in,” she says a little louder, and I choose that moment to walk into the hallway.