“Hannah, I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, trying to imitate one of the men at a center I used to visit in Los Angeles.
One of my volunteer projects in LA was at a women’s shelter that provided housing so that children wouldn’t be taken from their mothers who were on unemployment. Kids who would have likely ended up in the foster system were spared because of this nonprofit, and I’d been there when the director would, from time to time, have to talk one of the mothers off the ledge from going back to an abusive partner or spouse.
“You’re doing the right thing, for the girls, too. Whatever you need, we will get you. You can come stay with me, or I’ll find you a place.” Colleen is holding her hand.
Walker rushes back over from where he just got done talking to the police. Pushing us both aside, he cradles Hannah against his chest, and my eyes go wide.
That is not the kind of embrace that a man shows someone who is in need of help, or even a friendly acquaintance. No, there is something territorial in his stance, in the way he holds her to him. A look passes between Colleen and me, but now is not the time to discuss any of the things we’re seeing.
When the EMTs finally tell us that she has at best a bad concussion and at worst a brain bleed, I can see that Colleen is on the verge of tears. They need to take her to the hospital for scans and stitches, and there is no discussion as Walker hops into the ambulance with her without a backward glance.
Colleen and I are left standing in the loading dock of the ballpark where the cops and ambulance met us when they arrived.
Before I can even say anything, a sob explodes from her. I catch her just as she falls into me, smoothing her hair as she cries into my shirt. After a few minutes of body-wracking tears, she clears her throat and looks up, still holding on to me.
“God, I’m sorry, I just … that was horrible.” Her amber eyes are glassy, but I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.
Now that she’s in my arms, after what I witnessed tonight, I’m not sure I’ll ever let her go. I smooth the hair off her forehead, letting my fingers linger there.
“Don’t apologize. It was horrible, you’re right.” I shrug, because there isn’t much else I can say.
I have no idea why a man would treat the woman he loves like that. Especially one who seems as kind as Hannah, though I haven’t known her long. There is nothing any human could do that warrants the amount of venom that Shane was spitting at her. There is nothing a woman could do that should warrant a man raising a hand to her.
Colleen blinks up at me, looking like she’s about to spill her guts. And then she does.
“I don’t care. I don’t care what the consequences are, I don’t care if we lose it all. I love you. You’re the most wonderful, caring man I’ve ever met. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I got scared and pushed you away—”
I cut her rambling off, instead taking her face between my hands and kissing her like we might never get to again. There doesn’t need to be any more conversations or apologies. I’m not letting her go again, even if she fights me tooth and nail.
The horror we just witnessed is enough to answer the question; is this relationship worth the scandal and drama? Yes. To me, it will always be a yes. There are women out there suffering at the hands of men like Shane Giraldi. And then there are people out there like Colleen and me; two humans who share such a magnetic, good connection and yet the timelines of our lives prevent us from being truly happy with each other.
All of that stops today. It doesn’t matter if there is a conflict of interest. It doesn’t matter that I am a player and she is my general manager. I’m in love with her, and I can’t bear another second of being apart. If tonight has taught me anything, it’s not to let go of a once in a lifetime relationship.
Colleen clings to me, the salt of her tears wetting my lips as we kiss. Emotions flash across the spectrum, from sadness about what happened tonight, to love for each other, to giggles when we realize that we’re back together without even having to talk about it.
We’re so caught up in making up with kisses, that we don’t even hear the snap of a cell phone camera as it captures the next few intimate moments.
37
Colleen
By morning, the pictures of Hayes and I kissing in the loading dock are splashed all over the news.
Sports programs, regular media outlets, social media, even my emails are flooded with requests and questions and alerts.
We wake up together, in my bed, to hundreds of messages and calls between our phones. Hayes rolls over onto me, his handsome face full of drowsiness, and coaxes my lips until I relent to him. I hear the pinging of our phones, and I swear I can hear the shutter of camera lenses outside, but he knocks any device to the floor.
The love we make is lazy and long, muted sighs and whispered breaths. The night before was spent in various states of carnal bliss, making up for the weeks we’d been apart. It was risky and stupid, coming back here together, but neither of us seemed to care after the events of last night.
After seeing Hannah like that, something had just clicked in my brain. I was wasting time, ignoring the love I have for Hayes simply because I thought I couldn’t mesh my two worlds together. And that was just foolish. There were people who went their entire life with the wrong partner, or without finding a love like we have at all. Why the hell was I squandering that? Out of fear? Out of some misguided notion that I was doing my father, who couldn’t see past his own ego, proud?
I spent my entire life dedicating every ounce of effort to my family and to the Pistons organization. It’s now time my family stands behind me, for a relationship I deserve. And if they couldn’t, or refused to, I would have to do what I’ve been doing my entire life; relying on me and only me to carve out what I want done.
It’s been less than twelve hours since we supposedly put it all behind us, and now this? I was bold last night, stating that it didn’t matter what happened to me as long as I could be in love with him, be with him.
As if I spoke the words right into the universe’s ear, I guess we were jumping right into the fire and testing that theory.
Even though I’m still lying in his arms after we finish, every needle of doubt I’ve had before begins to attack. Once we see what the media is saying, once we see the public reaction … will Hayes want to stay with me? If it comes down to it, what will he choose, me or baseball?
One of our phones begins to buzz on the carpet below my bed, and I turn to face him. “Do you think we should pop our bubble now?”
Hayes tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, and I get distracted by the sight of his bare bicep flexing above my face. “Can’t we stay here a little longer?”
“I’m afraid my uncle and his team of PR hounds might slaughter me if I ignore them anymore.” I chuckle, but I’m not joking.
The face on the pillow next to mine seems to sober, and I can see the harsh morning after reality setting in. This is exactly why we existed in the shadows before, operating in darkness and keeping our romance to ourselves. Because I knew this is what would happen when it all came out.
“I know what happened between us last night. But in the light of day, I wouldn’t fault you if …”