“The Storm kicked booty Mom.” Charlie was still bouncing from her excitement as she took my hand. “That was the best moment of my life. The best.”
“Glad you had so much fun. It was a pretty spectacular game.” The hall outside the owner’s box was quiet, but I leaned down to whisper in Charlie’s ear, “Your dad dominated out there.”
She giggled and looked over her shoulder, loving that we were in on some big secret. “It’s too bad they don’t have professional football teams for girls. I think I’d be really good at it.”
“Maybe one day you could start one.”
“Yeah?”
“Anything’s possible,” I stated, both believing those words and knowing better. But I wanted her to believe it for as long as possible.
“Would you come and cheer me on if I did?”
Something ached in my chest, thinking about everything I’d miss. My hand squeezed hers. “You better believe it.”
“I’ll reserve a seat just for you.”
We were about to descend the stairs to put us on the third floor of the stadium when I felt it. The burst of pain through my nerves, right before they went numb.
“Charlie . . .” I got out, right before my vocal chords went as dead as the rest of my body.
The tremor that burst through my body sent me to the ground instantly. Beside me, Charlie cried out, clinging to my hand even as I spilled out across the floor in a trembling fit.
“Mom?” I heard her voice, but it sounded far away, like she was screaming across an ocean. “Mom!”
I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t even make eye contact. I was trapped inside my body, feeling like an unwilling victim in some sick and twisted game. This was what it would be like in the end. All the time. I’d know what was going on around me, but be unable to interact or communicate or participate. It was like I’d be forced to serve a life sentence in a maximum-security prison known as my body.
The same body that had supported me for twenty-four years. The same body I’d shared with Grant. The same body I’d given birth to my daughter with. It had been a reliable friend, but one day, it would be my greatest enemy.
It felt like the tremor wouldn’t end, but I guessed only a minute or two had passed before I started to notice the feeling returning to my fingers. Charlie.
I tried again, but my mind and mouth were still disconnected.
“Charlie,” I whispered finally.
She was crouching beside me, still clutching my hand in one of hers, my phone in the other. She looked shaken up and pale, but I saw braveness in her eyes.
“Mom?”
“I’m okay,” I assured her, my words still garbled. “I just need a minute.” Sensation was trickling back into my body, nerve by nerve, but I didn’t trust myself to stand yet.
Charlie lifted my phone she must have pulled out of my purse. “I called Dad.” She swallowed, almost looking guilty.
My fingers managed to curl around hers. “Good. You did good.”
I knew Grant was probably in the locker room or being interviewed right now, but Charlie had called the first person she thought of when she needed help. Her dad. Relief washed over me, knowing she was already starting to rely on him. Knowing he’d be there for her when tougher times came.
“What happened, Mom? Are you okay?” Charlie scanned the hallway, but it was still empty. To get up here to the private boxes, you had to get past security.
Like the guard rushing up the stairs right this second.
“I’m okay, Charlie-Bird. You did good. We’ll talk later.” I managed to get up on my elbows, Charlie scooting up behind me just in case I fell again. After this, I knew I couldn’t keep the truth hidden from her for much longer. It wasn’t fair, and it was important she knew for when this happened again.
“Miss Hale? What happened?” the security guard who’d been stationed at the bottom of the stairs earlier asked, jogging closer.
“I fell,” I said, trying to sit up a little higher, but I couldn’t. This one had really messed me up. “How did you . . .” My question was answered when I caught a glimpse of someone else hustling up those stairs, looking like he was soaring over them.
“Ryan?” Grant’s holler echoed down the hallway when he saw us. He must have been in the middle of stripping when Charlie’s call came in, because other than his jersey, he was still fully suited up.
“I’m okay,” I repeated as he sprinted toward us, his cleats pounding on the concrete.
He slid to a stop beside me, dropping to his knees. “I told you to stay close,” he said, glancing at the guard on the other side of me.
“I thought I was . . .”
The look Grant gave him brought him up short.
“Next time I’ll stay closer, Mr. Turner.”
My mouth opened. “Did you have someone following me, Grant Turner?”
“Of course I did.” He didn’t sound or look the least bit sorry about it either.
“That wasn’t necessary.”
Grant’s nostrils flared. “Your present situation indicates otherwise.” One of Grant’s hands dropped to my face, the other pulling Charlie into his side. “What happened?” His voice was strained, his bare chest rising hard beneath his shoulder pads.
My eyes locked on his. “You know what happened.”
A silent exchange passed between us before his jaw locked up as his eyes closed. His grip stayed strong around Charlie and me.
Sweat was still dripping from the ends of his hair, and he smelled like a mixture of AstroTurf, sweat, and man. Despite the worry I could see working its way through him, seeing him dressed in nothing but a pair of Lycra pants, some protective pads, and a pair of cleats made me smile.
“Nice outfit.”
Charlie, who was still gripping my hand, smiled with me as she checked out her dad.
Seeing us smiling seemed to relax him. Enough for the worry lines to soften. “Lucky for you Charlie’s call came in ten seconds before I’d finished stripping.”
“We’ll keep that in mind for next time. Just to call your bluff.”
Grant huffed, lowering his face so it was above mine. “Don’t think I won’t streak through tens of thousands of fans to get to you, Ryan Hale.”
That warm feeling in my stomach spread, the way it seemed to whenever he was close.
“Mr. Turner?” The guard cleared his throat after lowering his walkie. “We should get you all out of here.” His gaze drifted toward the stairway where I could make out the growing roar of fans chanting a familiar last name.
“See what happens when you leave the locker room without your shirt on?” I tapped his stomach, which was just as hard as the rest of him. “Anarchy. Mayhem. Rioting. Potential human sacrifices.”
Grant and Charlie exchanged a head shake before he tapped his shoulder pads. “Okay, Charlie. Climb on board. The muscle says it’s time to get out of here.”
Charlie more leapt than climbed on Grant’s shoulders. She might have been a little old to be riding piggyback, but she looked like a toddler up there on her dad’s colossal shoulders.
“Hold on tight, okay? I don’t care if you feel like you’re about to rip my head off, just don’t let go.” Grant glanced up at her and waited for her to nod.
“Not letting go.” She wound her arms around his head, tying her fingers below his chin.
Then Grant’s arms slipped beneath me, his arms curling around my shoulders and knees, before he stood up like he wasn’t carrying a person in his arms and a large seven-year-old on his shoulders.
“Mr. Turner, let me get one of them.” The security guard burst up beside us, but Grant practically snarled when he tried reaching out for me.
“I’ve got my family,” Grant stated, already moving down the hall. “You cover me.” He glanced down at me like he already knew the look he’d find on my face. “What? You two are my family, and I’m tired of no one knowing about it.” He continued down the hall, me in his arms, Charlie on his shoulders, and looking th
e most invincible I’d ever seen him. “It’s time everyone knows about it.”
THANKS TO GRANT’S iron will and equally iron strength, Charlie and I made it out of the stadium undetected, slipping into a dark car that had been waiting for us when Grant shoved through one of the players’ access doors. He’d almost crawled in the car with us, but I told him to stop acting like a crazy person and go get changed and showered before he caused any more females to spontaneously combust.
It had taken Charlie and me a few minutes to convince him that we were okay before he agreed, sending the poor security guard in his place. From the look Grant gave him after telling him not to leave our sides until we were inside the front door, I guessed he was threatening castration if the guard disobeyed.
I tried to lighten the drive back to Grant’s by making a few Secret Service jokes, but he was not in the mood to be lightened up. Poor guy. He looked like he’d just watched his dog get run over, but it wasn’t his fault I’d taken a spill like that. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The sooner Grant came to accept that as I had, the easier it would be to move on from these kinds of incidents. Because they’d continue to happen. Increasing in frequency and intensity.
Mrs. Kent had left earlier, leaving a plate of enchiladas in the fridge for whenever we were hungry for dinner, but I wasn’t hungry and Charlie was happy enough with a peanut butter sandwich and apple slices. For the first time since moving into Grant’s, Charlie actually fell asleep before her bedtime, probably due to the excitement of the day.
I was going to put the enchiladas in the oven for Grant, guessing he’d be starving after playing a game like he had, but I wasn’t sure when he’d get back and I didn’t want to annoy him with calls like I was checking up on him.
This was the first home game he’d had since we’d moved in, and I wasn’t sure what a typical day looked like. The game had finished around four, and he’d gotten us tucked into the car a little before four thirty. I guessed there might have been after-game meetings and maybe interviews, but when nine o’clock chimed on the big clock hanging in the foyer, I decided to head up to bed. For all I knew, he might already be hibernating in the pool house. God knew he’d earned it.
Peeking inside Charlie’s room before heading to mine, I made sure she was sleeping soundly and had her blankets tucked in around her, then I wandered into the master bedroom.
It had been another unseasonably warm day, and while the air conditioning kept the house more than comfortable, I felt the need for some fresh air. Grant’s home was the only place I’d lived in with the luxury of air conditioning, and as nice as it was, it was taking me some time to get used to.
The windows in the master bedroom were long and wide, a half dozen of them running along one wall. One by one, I opened them as far as they’d go, until a gentle breeze was rolling through the room, playing with the sheer panels hanging from the windows, almost making them look like angels floating in the night.
Enough light spilled down from the moon, so I kept the lights off in the room and moved toward one of the middle windows. Ducking beneath the fluttering panel, I rested my hands on the windowsill, sticking my head out of the window just enough to get a view of what was below me. The pool glowed beneath me, surrounded by a stone patio surrounded by an endless stretch of landscaping. Beyond, New York City twinkled in the distance.
It was so beautiful here. Like a fairy tale. The ones I’d been too scared to read as a child, knowing how very opposite my life was from them. I thought about how far I’d come. How much I had wrung out of life that I’d never guessed I’d have a chance to or, back then, never even knew existed to wish for. Like happiness. And peace. And a beautiful daughter. And her wonderful father. And this amazing spot where everything was cared for, and growing, and appreciated.
As I let my mind wander, I stepped up onto the windowsill, making sure my arms were braced tightly. Now the breeze was breaking across me, sending my hair spiraling behind me, the hem of my nightgown playing in the wind.
When I looked down, the breath I’d been taking caught. I felt like I was standing on the edge of the world without a safety net to catch me if I fell. It was both invigorating and terrifying. Closing my eyes, I relaxed my death grip of the windowsill and let myself experience the feeling of flying—the feeling of being free.
I didn’t hear him enter the room, but I felt him. The way a person wakes up to sun on their face.
“Ryan.” His voice spilled across the room, tension heavy in it.
I kept my eyes closed for another minute as I heard his footsteps pad closer. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to jump. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”
The sound of his neck popping filled the room. “Not funny.”
“Not to you maybe.” Opening my eyes, I let the moment pass, but the effects of it stayed with me.
“What are you doing?”
When I looked back at him, I found he’d moved right up behind me, his arms out, his chest twitching in anticipation. He’d really been worried I was thinking about jumping. Guess I couldn’t blame him. I was fresh on the heels of experiencing the worst episode of the disease that was going to, eventually, kill me.
“Looking death in the face,” I answered, turning to look back out into the black void. “It’s good to remind yourself that death’s always right here, waiting for us, letting us carry on. Death isn’t so scary. No more than life anyway.”
He was silent for a moment. “Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
Very gently, his hands molded around my stomach. “Will you please get down from there?”
Lowering my arms, I placed my hands over his. “All done reminding death I’m not scared of him. Bring me back down to earth.”
He had me off of the windowsill in half of a heartbeat, settling my feet in front of him on the plush carpet. I didn’t miss the way he turned so he was between me and the open window.
“No more balancing out of open windows please.” His forehead creased, his hands still holding me close. “Not after today.”
After everything he’d done for Charlie and me, I would have done anything for him. Least of all heeding a simple request. “Okay.”
He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a snug V-neck tee. The sweat and AstroTurf smell was washed off of him, making the man scent that much more prominent. It made me dizzy, especially with him touching me, nothing but a few fragments of moonlight invading the dark around us.
“Did you have dinner? I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home.”
Letting go of my waist, he turned and started to close the window I’d just crawled down from. “I’m not hungry. Sorry, I should have called or let you know what time I’d be home.”
“You don’t need to let me know where you are every hour of every day. It’s fine.”
He glanced back at me, most of the anxiety that had lined his expression gone. “Yeah, but I like knowing where you are every hour of every day, so I try to make it a two-way street.”
My hand settled on my hip as I watched him move to the next window. “Just because you like to know doesn’t mean you get to know.”
Grant’s soft laugh moved around the room. “It’s funny how after all of these years, and knowing you’re safe from the dangers of our old life, my palms still break out in sweat when I realize I don’t know where you are.” His shirt pulled across his back when he shrugged, moving on to the next window. “More old habits dying never.”
“After everything we’ve both been through, I’ll take it easy on you.”
“You’ll put up with my irrational, bordering-on-extreme overprotectiveness?”
“Well, I’ll try.” When he’d finished closing all of the windows, I realized he’d left them all open a little. Just enough to let the fresh air make its way inside.
“Then this is the perfect time for me to mention where I was tonight.”
From the way he was avoiding eye contact, I guessed I wasn’t going to be particularly pleased with whereve
r that was.
“Yes?” I took a deep breath, prepared for anything.
“I went to visit an old friend of mine. An old college friend. Well, actually, he started out as my tutor when I was having a tough time keeping up with my classes and threatening to get kicked off of the football team.”
The skin between my eyebrows came together. I hadn’t known many of Grant’s college friends. I’d met a few of the guys on the team the handful of times I’d made it to a game, but usually whenever we had a weekend together, he didn’t want to share me with anyone. We’d just found some place to lock ourselves up together, away from the rest of the world.
“Okay,” I said, not sure where this was going. “And he lives in New York too?”
Grant nodded absently, like his mind was somewhere else. “Yeah, he’s actually a doctor. You know, one of those really extra brilliant ones always being talked about in articles and journals and stuff?”
“Okay,” I repeated, not sure where this was going, but it was obviously important to him.
“Ravi Patel—well, Dr. Patel now, but back when I was a dumb-as-shit freshman and he was a senior tasked with getting me through chemistry, I knew him as Ravi.”
“Grant, you’re rambling. What is it?” I asked as gently as I could.
“He’s a neurologist. Not the one you met with last week, but still, he’s in the field. He’s good, Ryan. So damn good.” Grant scrubbed his face with one of his hands, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “I sat down and talked to him about you—”
“About me?” My voice rose, but for good reason. The fewer people who knew about me, the better. I’d already bumped up my talk with Charlie after what had happened today, and I didn’t want to move it up again. Plus, with Grant talking with this doctor, I wasn’t sure if doctor-patient confidentiality was still a factor.
Like when the media found out about it and came knocking on his office door, offering to pay him cash for a story.
“I trust him, Ryan. I’d trust him with my life. I mean that.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to trust him with my and Charlie’s lives,” I cut in.
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