But as much fun as that would be, if I go now, Chase will find out, and I’ll be a distraction. He need to stay focused on getting the ball in the end zone, not on me. It’ll be best for everyone if I get there right before the game. I have a few friends flying down on Sunday morning, and they offer me a seat on their plane. They’re both A-list actors trying to slide in under the radar themselves, so we’ll land in a small private airport outside of town then drive in.
Sunday morning comes, and it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve actually left the house on the anniversary of Mom’s death. Every year, Daddy and I spent the day together, remembering her. It was our way of keeping her alive. Even though he’s gone, I feel guilty for discontinuing the tradition. I suppose I’m honoring her in an entirely different way, but I think she’d be proud of it.
The four-hour flight to New Orleans is smooth and comfortable. Their plane is luxurious, with plenty of room for me to move around and stretch. Somehow we get onto the topic of Africa. They’re in the process of trying to adopt and have hit nothing but roadblocks. I tell them about my experience in Zimbabwe. By the time we land, we’re making plans to go to Dzokoto together. But we can’t go until after my knee is healed, and these are actors. They mean well, and they talk a good game in the moment, but when the time comes, I’ll be happy if I get a check.
After we exit the plane and I walk around a bit, I’m relieved that my knee feels better than I’d anticipated. Today will be a long day with an exorbitant amount of walking and time on my feet, so starting in good shape gives me hope I can make it through the day.
This airport was an excellent choice. It’s a bit off the beaten path, so it’s also practically empty. The few employees don’t even look up from their phones or newspapers. My friends and I walk through the airport and slip into our respective limos without anyone glancing in our direction.
Stuck in a bumper-to-bumper logjam, we move along the freeway inch by painstakingly slow inch. I could hobble to the dome faster. As we sit in traffic, I try to prepare myself for the myriad of feelings I’m bound to be hit with when I enter the dome. Whatever happens, whatever pain I feel or sadness I may endure, I won’t regret coming here. In fact, with each passing second, I feel more resolved. I think my mother would be proud of me, and these days, I need every ounce of those feelings I can get. I just wish we could get there quickly. I’m ready to face this and move forward.
Thankfully, once we get off the freeway, my pass allows us to go through a gate to the left when the rest of the traffic goes to the right. We pull into a parking garage where I flash my credentials and get directed to the appropriate elevator for team personnel. Once I get in the elevator and I see it can bring me to any floor in the dome, I debate going to the field. My badge would permit me access, and I could see the whole game up close. But I’d have to stand for the entire game, which would kill my knee, and I’d end up distracting Chase. That’s a bad idea all around. Instead, I take the elevator up to the owner’s box.
The short walk from the elevator to the box has an exceptional view of the field. Looking down, images from the documentaries flash through my mind. It’s hard to believe my mother came here fifteen years ago to watch a football game and probably watched from the very same box I’m about to enter. She must have been filled with anticipation and pride for my father, just as I feel about Chase. I remember her saying good-bye to me before she left the hotel room. She was so excited, so confident Daddy would win. Goosebumps spread across my skin as I think about the smell of her perfume tickling my nose when she hugged me goodnight. At least my last memory of her is when she was happy. Her smile was so big it was blinding. I have to stop thinking like this, or I’ll never make it through the game. Reminding myself that the past is in the past, I open the door to the box.
Chase is on the field for the coin flip when I enter the room. The Niners win the toss and opt to kick off. The room breaks out into cheers and catcalls, eager for the game to begin. After stopping to say hello and thank you to Jeb, the owner of the Niners, and his wife, Marcy, I spot the Brennans across the room.
Pat leans against the rail, intently looking at the teams getting ready to start. I stand next to him and look out over the field. “I hear all the money in Vegas is moving toward the Niners. The line started at six and was at twelve last I heard.”
His head snaps to the side. A huge smile spreads across his face before he picks me up and gives me a monster bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re here!” With me still off the floor and trapped in his hug, he turns toward Katie, Charlie, and Spencer. “Look who showed up!”
“What the hell? Why didn’t you call me?” Charlie shouts. “Pop, put her down so I can yell at her.”
I tap his shoulder. “Can’t breathe!”
He squeezes a little tighter. “We’ve all been thinking about you nonstop. I think we’ve talked more about you this week than Chase. I’m just so damn happy to see you.”
“You can’t actually see me unless you put me down,” I murmur with strained breath.
“Do I have to?” His tough-guy exterior makes him appear a little gruff and prickly, but Pat’s a big teddy bear. And definitely a hugger.
“Pop!” Charlie shouts.
“Fine,” he says like a small child told to eat his Brussels sprouts or go to bed without supper. Reluctantly, he puts me down, being careful to be gentle with my knee.
Charlie pulls me into a tight hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. I know this is so hard for you, but it’ll mean the world to Chase.” She pulls back. “Does he know? I’m guessing not since you’re not accompanied by armed guards.”
I shake my head. “No one knew. It was very spur of the moment.”
“Only you can just wake up and decide to go to the Super Bowl,” Spencer says. He looks at my lanyard. “With team credentials no less. That’s the Aldrich touch.” He gives me a quick shoulder squeeze. “It didn’t feel right without you here.”
Katie sidles up next to me. “No, it didn’t, but now everything is perfect. Enough with the sap. Let’s watch some football.”
The Niners kick off to start the game. Denver’s punt returner makes it to the thirty before he trips on his own feet and fumbles the ball. The Niners’ gunner picks up the ball and runs it in for a touchdown. The stadium erupts. Eight seconds into the game, and we’re already up by six!
The score doesn’t budge for the remainder of the first quarter. Neither team can manage to get the ball in the end zone. In their first possession, Denver drives down the field only to get intercepted at the three-yard line. Chase gets the ball back at the Niners’ thirty then steadily moves the chains down the field. At the twelve-yard line, Chase hands off the ball to the running back, who carries it as though it were a loaf of bread. It pops right out of his grasp and is picked up by the Denver defense. The mutual inability to cross the goal line continues deep into the second quarter.
With less than a minute left to go in the first half, Denver’s as close to a touchdown as they have been all game. The quarterback, Oliver Marshall, steps back, looking to throw into the end zone. With his focus on the field of play, he doesn’t see the Niners linebacker steamroll toward him. The quarterback is sacked, and the ball is live. Denver recovers the ball on the Niners’ twenty-six. The whistle blows, but Marshall is still on his back. Coaches run onto the field.
Looking at the replay, it was a clean hit, but Oliver landed on his neck awkwardly and quite possibly reinjured an injury that has plagued him for years. This is his seventeenth year in the league. He’ll be forty next year. It’s sad to say, but I think his career is finished. The stadium stands and gives him a roaring round of applause as he’s wheeled off the field on a stretcher. I send a quick message to his wife, who I’m sure is a hysterical mess.
Denver’s backup quarterback comes in but is unable to overcome the second and twenty-five deficit. Chase gets the ball back with eight seconds left on the clock. He throws the ball downfield to the open rece
iver just before the buzzer sounds, ending the half. While the receiver runs the ball in for a touchdown, Denver’s linebacker spears Chase in the back, and Chase goes down hard. Whistles are blown, flags are thrown, and Chase is still on the ground. With Katie and Charlie on either side of me, I grab their hands, praying he gets up. The linebacker’s helmet slammed into Chase’s left side, the side with the cracked rib that still hasn’t healed properly.
As the coaches rush to Chase, a screaming match breaks out between the teams. Shouts turn to shoves, and the fight escalates into a sideline-clearing brawl. Helmets go flying, and haymakers are thrown as the situation gets out of hand. The coaches have to abandon Chase to break up the melee.
Chase sits up, finally showing signs of life. He takes off his helmet then staggers to his feet. From his expression, I can tell he’s furious. He screams at his teammates, pointing at the locker room. Between the coaches and the refs, the teams are separated and head into their locker rooms for halftime.
The box is silent as we all stare at the field.
“Did that just happen, or have I drank too much?” asks Jeb’s granddaughter, who probably has had too much to drink.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Katie asks. “He got up on his own, so he’s fine, right?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jeb’s on the phone, presumably with someone in the locker room. I squeeze Katie’s hand. “I’m going to find out.”
Crossing the room, I sit next to Jeb and do my best to glean information from his side of the conversation. “Umm hmm,” “Oh really,” and “That’s wild,” don’t give me much to go off of.
When he hangs up, he says, “Have you tried the gumbo? It’s amazing. They serve it in a bread bowl and everything.” He smirks, knowing he’s torturing me.
I throw my hands in the air. “You’re killing me, Jeb. What the hell happened down there?”
“Denver thinks we took out Marshall intentionally, so they were gunning for Brennan.” He points at the television replaying the players shouting at each other moments before the first punch was thrown. “I’m guessing he didn’t invite our team over for a beer after the game.”
Leaning toward him, I lower my voice. “What about Chase? Are they checking him out? That hit was so dirty. If that son of a bitch—”
He holds his hand up to stop me. “I could hear him screaming at the team in the background. He’s fired up. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. Now go enjoy the halftime show.” He stands and joins his wife and son, who are arguing about the increase in cheap shots across the league.
The lights in the stadium dim, and a spotlight focuses on the halftime show stage. A former Disney Channel star struts onto the stage, belting out her latest hit. Sadly for her, the stadium isn’t focused on her performance. Everyone’s debating about what just happened and who’s going to get penalized. Twenty minutes can’t go by fast enough. I couldn’t care less about the penalties. I just need to see for myself that Chase is okay.
He comes out of the locker room with an expression of fury like I’ve never seen. He’s favoring his left side, but he’s too pissed off and too determined to let his pain hold him back. Before the start of the third, numerous personal foul and unsportsmanlike conduct penalties are handed out. The linebacker who started it all is ejected from the game. That’s only happened once in NFL history. Penalties are assessed on the kick off, and the game is back on.
Chase takes the field, and it’s clear the Niners are out for blood. Switching to a no-huddle offense, Chase leads them down the field, scoring in seven plays. They maintain this furious pace for the rest of the game, and Denver’s defense doesn’t stand a chance. When Chase is on a mission, there’s no stopping him. This side of him is such a turn on.
Denver’s backup quarterback does his best, but his team is rattled and can’t get its act together. Several delay of game calls, multiple false-starts. Each time they get the ball, it’s a calamity of errors.
The Niners are up thirty-five to six at the two-minute warning.
Jeb taps my shoulder. “Do you want to come down with me?”
“I’d love to!” By the time I get down there and find him, the game will be virtually over, so I won’t be a distraction. I’d love to be there as the clock counts down to victory.
Charlie grabs my arm as I stand. “You can’t go down there with your knee. It’s pandemonium. You’ll get trampled.”
“We’ll have bodyguards, and I won’t let her out of my sight. No need to be concerned, Charlotte,” Jeb says.
I pry her fingers off of my forearm. “See, I’ll be fine. Why aren’t you coming?”
Spencer raises his hand. “Pregnancy veto. Last year after the game, it was like Wal-Mart when the doors open on Black Friday. Only this has pyrotechnics. From what I’ve read in the baby books, getting stampeded by a herd of crazed fans isn’t good for fetal development. And I’d rather not blow out my baby’s ear drums before they’re fully formed. We’ll come down when the circus clears out.”
I kiss her cheek. “Well, you and my niece have fun up here. I’ll be on the field, celebrating.”
“Nephew,” Spencer calls as I follow Jeb to the elevators.
“Niece,” I holler back just before the elevator doors close.
Jeb chuckles. “In all of these years, you kids haven’t changed a bit. I can still remember you all running around Candlestick during your dad’s games. The four of you were nothing but trouble,” he teases, and he swipes his security badge then presses the button for the field level.
“Some things never change,” I reply, smiling at the memory of the four of us wreaking havoc during Daddy’s games. My smile fades as I think about how drastically things have changed since the days my mother, Katie, and Pat took us to games. I take a deep breath and try to keep from getting emotional.
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure today must have been difficult for you, but I have to tell you, it was lovely to have you here with us today,” Jeb says as the elevator descends.
“Difficult or not, this is where I needed to be. My mother will never be forgotten, but her death is my past, and Chase is my future.”
“Personally, I’m thrilled you and Chase are together. We see a long and prosperous future with Chase, and nothing would bring me greater joy than to have you both with us for years to come. You know how much I care for your family. Aiden was like another son to me. And your mother.” He gives me a sad smile. “Your mother was very special. Her death was hard on all of us. It’s been a privilege to watch you grow, and hopefully I’ll live long enough to see the birth of a future Niners quarterback.” He winks.
Pangs of hurt pump through me. I’ve wondered a million times if our baby would have been a boy or a girl. Would he have been another quarterback to carry on the tradition? Clearing my throat, I push those thoughts out of my head. They won’t do me any good.
The elevator doors open to a wall of beefy security guards. They look nearly identical with their buzz cuts and bulging muscles. It’s a wonder anyone can tell them apart. Looking between them, I catch a glimpse of the field. The final play clock is counting down.
“Are you ready, Mr. Kane?” the one in the middle asks.
Jeb holds out his elbow. “Are you ready?”
I’m about to take his arm when an image of my mother leaving this same elevator just moments before her death flashes through my mind, and I freeze. Staring at the door close button, I consider pushing it and going back up to the box. The buzzer goes off, and the crowd erupts in celebration. The ground shakes from the vibrations. From here, I can see the crowd storming the field. This is what I came here for. I can go back upstairs and hide, or I can be here for Chase.
“Arianna?”
The choice is simple. I thread my arm through his. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chase
I’m so happy this fucking game is over. Not just because we won but because if it hadn’t ended soon, someone else was goin
g to get hurt. Tensions ran high the entire game, and it was only a matter of time before another fight broke out. Both sides of the line of scrimmage were shit-talking nonstop. All guys talk—it’s part of the game—but it was getting ugly. Guys were getting personal, really crossing the line, as though they were daring someone to make the first move. The air on the field was combustible; all someone had to do was strike a match and the whole place would have blown. As it is, this Super Bowl will always be known for the fight rather than the game we played. We didn’t need another fight to keep things interesting. It’s a shame too. My boys played a good game, but that will always be overshadowed by the drama.
When the buzzer goes off, I cross the field for the obligatory post-game handshake. Security is on high alert in case any punches are thrown. The Denver coaches wrangle their more volatile players into the locker room, and suddenly the air of hostility dissipates. Everyone relaxes and actually enjoys our hard-won victory. When I’m doused with not one but two coolers of Gatorade, I know everyone’s finally having a good time. Walking back to the sidelines to pull off my pads, I look at the bench and stop dead in my tracks. Whatever they shot me up with at halftime must be messing with my head because the girl talking to the NFL commissioner looks like Arianna. It must be someone who looks like her because there’s no way she’s here. But the closer I get, the more it looks like her. Is this a drug-induced vision? Do I miss her so much that I’m hallucinating?
The commissioner extends his hand to me. “Congratulations. I was just telling Arianna this game will have people talking for years. You played an exceptional game.”
He looks at me then follows my stare to Arianna. I assume he realizes I’m only interested in one person in this entire building and it’s not him.
Chuckling, he pats my back. “I’ve got to go get ready for the presentation. See you up there.” Just as he’s about to walk away, he leans in toward me. “Aiden was the best man at my wedding. If you hurt her, I’ll destroy you. You understand, son?”
Love To Hate You Page 46
