“Dude, that’s actually kind of brilliant. Will they make those for anybody, like even if you’re not getting engaged?” Connor looked like he had some sort of idea, and it had nothing to do with marriage.
We ignored him, carrying on our conversation. “I mean, Demi, she’s simple. She likes curling up on the couch, reading. I think she’d like for me to do something simple and private, but at the same time, I’d like to announce it to the world. For … past reasons.”
No one knew about us hooking up in college. Not that I cared if they did, but it seemed unnecessary to let people all the way into our business like that. However, I still felt guilt about how I treated her back then. And if I could make up for that by announcing to the whole world that I wanted her to be my wife, then I wanted to do it. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I was in love with Demi Rosen, and that I wanted to spend my entire life with her.
“Sounds shady as fuck, just saying. But, my dude, you have the world on a string this week, you have the perfect stage. Hello, Super Bowl proposal? I’d say you can’t go wrong if you whip that diamond out after we win us a ring.”
Connor sent me a thumbs-up after speaking his idea, and I had to admit …
It was a damn good idea.
Thirty-Five
Paxton
It was surreal, sitting in front of a bunch of reporters for what was going to be one of my last times doing this.
Over the last eight years, I’d been prey for these guys more times than I could count. Trying not to become their next soundbite, trying to liberally dole out my answers in a politically correct way. I’d played the game, and I’d played it well. Both on the field and off. And now it was time to say goodbye.
My knee hadn’t been the same, and although I’d played an incredible season, with one more notch to put in my belt before I went, I knew I was done. I could feel it. And while I was sad, I was also looking forward to the next chapter.
I looked to Demi, who was waiting just outside the line of sight of the cameras pointed directly at me, my sole, lonely figure seated at a table in front of the NFL and Cheetah’s logos on a blue background. She waved, giving me a thumbs-up and a small smile. My woman, the one person who I’d discussed this with in depth. Yes, my brother knew, but he hadn’t been the one staying up with me when I couldn’t sleep at two a.m. because I was so confused and anxious about retirement.
It’s unprecedented, the fact that the Super Bowl is being held in the same city as one of the team’s playing in it. It’s only fitting that it will be my last game, with all of the stars aligning.
The team’s public relations manager, Angela, walks up behind me and announces that I’ll be giving a press conference. Asks if the reporters can hold their questions until the end.
And then she turns the floor over to me.
“Thank you all for coming out today. Not like you have much else to do as you’re stuck in North Carolina for some football game.” I smile at my sarcasm, and a light round of laughter moves through the room.
My heart is pounding as I clear my throat, my lips suddenly dry. This had been my whole life, the thing I lived, breathed and killed myself for, for a long time.
I took the leap, stepped over the edge, and started to speak.
“As most of you know, I hurt my knee last year and was traded from the team I’d thus far played my entire career with. I got to come back to the city I played for in college, and it has been an incredible season with an incredible group of teammates and staff here at the Cheetah’s organization. But as any aging athlete knows, as the years go by, your body and your stamina are not what they once were. My mind is sharper than ever, is filled with plays and ways to win, but my muscles and limbs just can’t keep up. And neither can my heart, if I’m being honest. For eight years, I’ve poured everything into this game. I have no regrets about that. But … it has kept me from settling down. From meeting someone special, from starting a family and a legacy. And that is something I’m looking forward to. Because after this game, after the Super Bowl, I will be retiring.”
A buzz goes through the crowd, and I can hear the questions bubbling out of their throats. I look to Demi again, and she nods, and I see my future right there in her beautiful brown eyes.
I put a hand up to quiet them again. “Before you ask, this has absolutely nothing to do with anyone but myself. My teams, both of them, have always treated me with the utmost respect and professionalism. The men I’ve worked with, who have put their bodies on the line for me just like I have for them, have always been nothing but driven and focused. I count myself lucky to have played this many years in this league. The only thing you can attribute this retirement to is me becoming an old man.”
Another round of quiet laughter.
“I wanted this to be my swan song, a Super Bowl ending if you will. And win or lose, I’m walking away with my head held high. So please, I’ll take your questions, but no negativity. This is bittersweet for me, but it’s more sweet than bitter. I’d like to think that my parents are looking down on me, proud of what I’ve accomplished and anxious to see what I’ll do next.”
I have to stop, to bite my fist, because I know the words I speak are true. I rarely talk about my parents to the press, but they should be involved in this moment. They sacrificed so much for me when I was growing up so that I could live this dream.
“I’d like to thank them, my mom and dad, for always believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. For teaching my brother and I that we could do anything we set our minds to. I’d like to thank my brother for celebrating holidays on the day after everyone else’s for the past five years, because my work kept me on the road. Dylan, this year we can celebrate Christmas on December twenty-fifth just like everyone else.”
The reporters laugh again.
“And last, but certainly not least, I want to thank my girlfriend. Demi,” I turn to where she’s standing, and I see some of the cameras focus on her, “I could have never gotten through this transitional time without you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I know that is a common phrase used, but you are. I love you, thank you for putting up with my ego and insane work schedule.”
She tilted her head at me, blowing a kiss in a rare display of affection. I knew that even though she was a public figure in Charlotte, she hated the attention. But I had to acknowledge how big of a part in my life she played.
“Now, who has questions?”
They came at me full force, and for once, I was sad that soon, this wouldn’t be a part of my normal Sunday.
Thirty-Six
Demi
These media days were a complete circus.
I thought I’d been around a lot of press for some of my Wish kid’s outings or activities, but this was insanity. The building was the size of a gigantic airplane hangar, and backdrops for every major news or sports news organization was set up in rows. Thousands of people—fans, athletes, reporters, agents, etc.—combed the place, trying to be a part of the action.
The buzz that surrounded the day was magical, filled with excitement and nerves. It was overwhelming just standing on the sidelines, I didn’t know how Pax was keeping it together.
It was the first time, and probably the last time I’d experience it due to his retirement, that I realized just how major he was to this game.
And in a way, I was extremely sad I’d missed that. That I’d been too scared, too weak, and he’d been immature and egotistical. We’d both gotten in our own ways. But at least we were together now.
Pax’s hand was laced through mine as we walked from media tent to media tent, him sitting down and giving generic answers to the same questions every reporter asked.
“So, give me the inside scoop, Shaw. What do you really think of the other team?” I nudge him, winking.
It’s the same question a bunch of reporters have already asked, and he’s given the respectable, toe-the-line answer.
Pax leans in, kissing my hair and
whispering. “Off the record? I think they’re a bunch of overpaid assholes that I want to pummel into the turf. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
I giggle. “My lips are sealed. Hey, where do you think you want to go to dinner after this?”
We hadn’t spent a lot of time together this week, what with his busy training schedule and the interview days. I understood, but I missed him.
“I say we go up to the hotel room the team reserved for me, order a bunch of room service, and give you approximately three orgasms before it gets there.”
Even though no one around us could hear any word of our conversation, I blushed. “Only if we can get mozzarella sticks.”
“Shaw! Man, I thought I’d see you here. You look old, dude!”
A familiar voice has us turning around, and when I see who it’s connected to, my heart jumps into my throat.
Jamison, the former outside linebacker for our college team, stands in the middle of the media frenzy, his big body taking up too much room in the wide aisle.
“Jami, good to see you! At least I don’t look like you. How are those knees?” Pax was poking fun at his weight, which I never quite understand how he could move it around the field.
Jamison moves closer and narrows his eyes at me. “Wait a minute … Demi?”
My stomach drops, because I see it in his eyes. That mockery, the secondhand embarrassment he is getting for me because I’m here with Paxton. Humiliation runs hot through me, making nausea rise in the back of my throat.
“Hi there.” I give a small wave, not sure what to do. “I’m uh, going to get a cup of coffee. Over there.”
I don’t want to stand with them, don’t want to talk to them. I feel like I’m transported right back to the days where I was an ornament instead of a respected woman.
Jamison is still talking to Pax about the game as I fill the paper cup at one of the media stands nearby.
“Man, she is still chasing that dick, huh?”
His words pull me right out of the lull that I’d been dazing in. What had he just said? Jamison was standing closer to Pax, and he thought I couldn’t hear. But my cheeks burned with shame, and I stayed silent to see what would happen.
“What did you just say?” Pax’s jaw clicks, and he eyes me from where I stand a few feet away.
I can feel him trying to contain his anger, exercising caution just in case we both just heard Jamison wrong.
“Demi Rosen, man. Shit, back in college, she would sink to her knees with a snap of your fingers. I guess some things never change. Desperate ho, am I right?”
My insides shut down, and tears choke me. Rage, despair, and regret consume me, and I wanted to sink into the earth and be swallowed whole. I’d gone a long time avoiding, or just altogether not remembering, people out in the world who had been witness to what Pax had put me through back then.
“You better shut your fucking mouth right now,” Pax growls, stepping into Jamison like he’s about to swing.
“Babe …” I rush back over, stepping between them and pushing my boyfriend back.
I’m not even thinking about the trash Jamison just tossed all over my name, the only thing I care about is preventing the man I love from getting suspended from the last game he’ll ever play. Once again, I care more about his well-being than my own.
“I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat, motherfucker. You apologize to her, right now.” Pax is straining against the hands I have to his chest.
Jamison backs away, holding his hands up. “I didn’t realize it was … official now, man. I apologize. I’m happy for y’all. If banging leads to this, then sign me up for a fine-ass hookup. Matter fact, if he’s still treating you like he always did, maybe you want to go out with me tonight.”
He’s laughing at me, basically spitting in my face. “I’m going to go.”
I begin to walk away, because the shame I feel in this moment is so horrendous that I almost can’t live with myself.
“Demi! Demi!” Pax chases after me, and at least he follows me instead of beating his ex-teammates face in.
At least he’s matured enough to worry about me and not his ego.
I make it outside before he catches up to me, touching my elbow as I walk ahead of him. People on the street turn to stare, because there is a bona fide football star walking down the street in the city that has become the country’s most focused-on point in the last couple of days.
“Demi, please stop,” Pax pleads with me, his hand hovering on the small of my back as we walk.
I try to hold in the tears as we walk, the hotel my final destination. I have to get my things, get out of here, go home to Maya. A neighbor was supposed to watch her tonight, but screw it. I needed to go home, regroup. I needed to smooth out my jumbled thoughts, my twisted heart. I was fine, better than fine. I had been happy, completely blissful in my relationship. And in two seconds, a piece of shit jock that I’d known a lifetime ago had come in and annihilated it.
He stays with me, I feel his presence and need to talk right at my back the whole time. When we finally get to the hotel, I scurry across the lobby and into the elevator. Pax gets in with me, and I immediately move to the other side, too vulnerable to look at him or let him touch me.
“Demi, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice is pained.
I curl into myself, tears finally falling, my heart audibly breaking. I’m wounded, so damaged from our past. The scars that had begun to heal, had almost been whole again, from Pax loving me … now they were raw and bleeding.
The elevator dings on each new floor felt like a stab to the organ in my chest. I couldn’t contain the sobs, and one escaped my mouth, echoing between us.
“Baby …” Pax’s arms come around me.
I back against the wall. “No!”
I didn’t want him to touch me. Not right now.
When the elevator opens on our floor, I race to the room, fully intending to pack my small overnight bag and get the hell out. But Pax has other ideas.
“Demi, I’m sorry. Please talk to me, baby. I love you.”
His use of those three little words right now sets me off.
“He looked at me like some cheap whore. Because that’s what I was! I have to go.” I couldn’t be here right now, I was going to say something that I regretted.
Shoving what I’d taken out of my bag earlier back into it, I tried to make for the door.
“He’s a fucking asshole, and I wish I could shove his teeth down his throat. But most of all, I want to hold you. I want to erase any fears you have. I want to repeat I love you over and over until it sinks into your brain that I’m never, ever leaving you again. You’re my moon and stars now; I don’t breathe, I don’t function without you, baby. My whole world is black if you’re not in it.”
A sob burst from my lips again, because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to hear from him, but for the very worst reason.
“Just stay. We don’t have to talk. I’ll go get another room. One next door to this one. Just like the night in my apartment, I won’t try a thing. But I can’t stand you leaving. Not like this.”
Pax’s full lips pleaded, his eyes staring into my soul. So, for the second time in as many months, I relented, staying in the place he put me.
Thirty-Seven
Demi
I love my job. Love what I’m able to do for families. Love it when that look of pure happiness lights up a child’s face.
But I also hate my job. Hate that there is a reason that these children need some hope. Hate when I see their tiny bodies suffer in the hospital.
And I especially hate it, loathe it, when I get the news that one of my special kids has passed away.
I’m just out of a relaxing bath the morning after our fight, when Paxton knocks on the door. I let him in, not raring for an argument but knowing we have to talk about it. He booked his room, slept next to me, wall to wall, all night long. I’d tossed and turned, rising early to fill the bath with bubbles and didn�
�t leave until I was pruned, my mind was cleared, and the suds were gone.
I tell him I’m going to get dressed first, and a minute later, my cell phone rings.
He picks it up, because I’m struggling to pull up my skinny jeans, and I hear his excitement as he tells me that Sherrie, Ryan’s mom, is on the phone.
A split-second later, I hear his intake of breath as, I’ll later find out, she relays the details into his ear.
A viral infection. Too late to catch. Compromised his immune system and left him without a chance to fight it off.
We sit on the bed for a while after he gets off the phone with her, sobs coming through the other end as she tells us about the funeral arrangements.
“I hate this world sometimes.” I choke on the tears in my throat, some of them escaping my tear ducts.
I lean into Pax, all thoughts of our fight and every insecurity I’d felt yesterday completely erased. None of it mattered when you were talking about life and death. He was here, we were in love with each other, and we were both in it for the good times and the bad.
“I know, baby. I know.” He rocked me like a child as I wept in his arms, my tangled, damp hair covering his shirt as my nose became a snotty mess.
It was always horrible to lose a child, to see the families suffer, but this one cut deep. Ryan had been … a bright light in this sometimes otherwise dark world. He had been a beam of hope, a galaxy of personality that was funny, sweet and effortlessly likable. And the fact that he’d had the same cancer as Ezra … it was a harsh blow.
“He was so good, such a good soul.” I hiccupped.
“He was the absolute best. It’s not fucking fair.” Pax choked out the words, and for the first time in my meltdown, I looked up to see him in pain.
He’d loved Ryan, too. “He’d brought us together that day in the park. I love you, Pax.”
When Stars Burn Out Page 14
