Touching Down

  “All packed?” Michelle asked me.

  “I guess. Grant said to pack light, and we could shop for what we needed over there and ship it all back if necessary, but the most exotic trip I’ve taken was a day-trip to Multnomah Falls outside of Portland. I don’t have a clue how to pack for three months in Europe.”

  Michelle leaned over even closer as the volume in the stadium dialed up yet again. “Comfortable shoes and clothes that travel and pack well. And your passport. That’s all you need.”

  “Can you just pack for me?” I laughed, shaking a few Milk Duds into her hand.

  Charlie burst out of her seat again, hollering at the refs about some call they’d just made. The Storm was on defense, so I let my attention wander since Grant wasn’t playing. Charlie only let her attention wander during halftime or time-outs.

  As she continued to jeer at the refs, I downed some Milk Duds and went over the next few days in my head. Grant and the Storm were going to win this game. If the scoreboard didn’t suggest that, my gut certainly did. Which meant there’d be a celebration party in the next night or two, and I still had a ton of packing to do and planning for leaving the country for three months. I hadn’t planned on such a long trip, but Ravi had said that in order to see if this new drug would work for me, I’d need to give it time. There was no need to “smuggle” a prescription drug from a foreign country into the US unless I knew it was worth it. So yeah, not only was I a drug guinea pig, I was a potential drug smuggler. I was just setting a heap of examples for my child.

  But I’d rather break a few laws and get to be in my child’s life than die young having a perfect record.

  “I know I’ve told you this a thousand times before, but once more can’t hurt.” I glanced at Ravi and smiled when I felt closer to crying from gratitude for everything he’d done for us. “Thank you. You have no idea . . .”

  Ravi patted my leg. “I think I have a very good idea.” He looked between Charlie and me like that explained it all. “And besides, I owe Grant big time. This helps chip away at that debt.”

  My forehead creased. “Weren’t you the one who kept him from flunking out of school? How do you owe him?”

  Ravi drew Michelle closer to him. “He introduced me to the woman I married.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised I’d never heard this story. “He did?”

  “He sure did,” Ravi answered. “She was hung up on this other guy, this super-jock she thought was all that.”

  Michelle elbowed him in the ribs affectionately.

  I waved my finger between the two of them all wrapped up around each other. “Looks like she got over him.”

  Michelle’s hand pressed into Ravi’s chest. “Yeah, after he not-so-subtly nudged me this guy’s way.”

  Ravi grinned. “It was fate.”

  “What happened with super-jock?” I asked.

  “He was totally into some other girl. I don’t think he looked another girl’s way the entire four years we went to school together. Actually, I’m sure he’s never looked another woman’s way since either.” Michelle and Ravi exchanged a look. “Oh, and then he went on to become one of the best players in professional football, reconnected with that girl, and now they’re a couple of our best friends.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “You were into Grant?”

  Michelle gave me an apologetic look. “A little.”

  Ravi huffed his own opinion on that.

  That was when Charlie grabbed my arm and gave it a shake, which meant Grant was taking the field. I watched him lope up to the line of scrimmage, practically able to feel the tens of thousands of eyes on him, able to sense the millions of eyes watching him through the screen of a television.

  He could have had anyone he wanted. He could have had anyone he wanted for a night, a week, or a lifetime. Yet all he’d ever wanted was me. Realizing that made me feel a dizzying mixture of special and undeserving at the same time. But accepting that was the best feeling in the whole world.

  Accepting that was its own kind of miracle. If two kids from The Clink could love each other despite their tainted histories, that meant there were more miracles out there. More of them waiting to be experienced.

  “That man’s been off the market since the day he met you.” Michelle nodded at the field as the teams lined up. “That won’t change. No matter what might.”

  “The feeling’s mutual,” I said.

  I watched him take his place in the lineup, but not before taking another look in our direction. The biggest game of his life, droves of fans chanting and yelling, emotions hitting overdrive, and he never missed a chance to glance at the people who loved him most. Almost like he was a boy again, playing a game for a crowd of twenty.

  I’d live loving him. I’d die loving him. It was a guarantee. Just as his love was.

  “Mom, watch, watch!” The remnants of Charlie’s pretzel dropped as she grabbed my hand and pulled me up with her.

  “Watch what?” I tucked my beloved candy into my Storm hoodie front pocket and watched the field to see what I was apparently missing.

  Ravi and Michele did the same.

  “He’s going to score a touchdown.” She stood on her chair as the people in front of us rose too. “It’s the last minute of the game. He told me when it got to the last minute, he was going to score.”

  The Storm had the ball, but they were sixty-five yards away from their end zone with less than a minute on the clock. They were already ahead by ten points, so all they had to do was keep the Hawks from getting the ball and they’d all be adding a big, fat ring to their fingers soon.

  “Charlie, it’s a long ways to go. The clock’s almost out.” I wound my arm around her back, so she didn’t fall. “I know your dad will try to do it, but don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t, okay?”

  Charlie blinked at me like she couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “He promised.”

  The roar in the stadium picked up yet again. I should have brought earplugs like Grant had insisted Charlie wear today. “He promised?”

  “He. Promised.” Charlie pulled on her cherished foam finger and started whipping it around overhead. “He’s going to score a touchdown. Dad keeps his promises, you know that.”

  I stared at the field, smiling at number eighty-seven. Charlie was right. There wasn’t a promise he’d made that he hadn’t kept. As ambitious and unlikely as they might have been, he kept them. “I do know that.”

  The moment the quarterback had the ball in his hands, Grant took off. A couple of the Hawks players marked him but couldn’t keep up. I don’t think I’d ever seen him move so fast—it didn’t seem possible for a man his size.

  “He’s going to do it. He’s going to do it,” Charlie chanted, her eyes frozen open as we watched him glance back over his shoulder when he reached the twenty-yard line. The quarterback had already launched the ball, sending it high and deep. A little too deep.

  I stopped breathing as the world slowed down and every sound drowned out besides the sound of my heart beating in my eardrums.

  Grant kept hauling, faster still, but he wasn’t going to make it. Not unless . . . he leapt into the air at the two-yard line, his body suspended for what felt like a lifetime, before the ball dropped.

  Into one of his hands.

  Jumping up onto my chair beside Charlie, I watched the ball bounce out of his hand. Just when it looked like it was about to fall to the ground, his other hand came over the top and curled it to his body.

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. I didn’t think Charlie or anyone else in the whole stadium could either. No Storm fan dared pretend they’d just witnessed that kind of one-in-a-million touchdown. At least not until we all saw six points added to the Storm side of the scoreboard.

  The stadium rocked with noise as fans cheered or cried, depending on where their allegiances lay. Beside me, the biggest Storm fan screamed her guts out, ringing one of her arms around my waist as we leapt up and down in unison.

  “He
did it! He did it! He did it!” she kept cheering, as both of us cried the best kind of tears. The happy ones.

  Everyone was on their feet and so much was going on that I didn’t notice Grant was running across the field, the ball he’d just made a career catch with tucked under his arm.

  “What’s he doing?” I said as I stopped bouncing. “What’s he doing?” I said a little louder, hoping someone else had a different answer than the one I’d arrived at.

  “What do you think he’s doing?” Ravi shouted, motioning at where Grant was literally climbing the barricade, putting himself in the midst of the spectators. “He’s being Grant Turner.”

  Fans started chanting his name as they noticed what was going on. I even noticed some of the Hawks’ fans joining in. People held out their hands or clapped his back as he jogged up the stairs, but no one blocked his path. No herds of fans swarmed him like I thought they would have. Instead, they seemed happy to be able to share in this moment, letting him pass so he could continue his journey.

  The closer he got to where we were, the more heads started turning our way. When he had one more flight of stairs to go, Charlie leapt down from her seat and dove out into the aisle, pulling me with her. I’d barely managed to set my feet down on solid ground before Grant’s large arm wound around me, pulling me close as he tucked Charlie into his other side.

  “A new one to add to your collection, kiddo,” he said, and Charlie clutched the ball like it was priceless. “To always remind you that anything’s possible.”

  The crowd was going insane now, probably as unable as I was to believe what was happening.

  Holding Charlie in one arm, Grant glanced at me in his other. His face was wet with sweat and alive like I’d never seen it.

  “Help me with my helmet?” he asked me.

  I worked his chinstrap free and tugged at his helmet, which felt suctioned to his head. It came off with a little work, revealing a wet, dripping mess of hair.

  “How’s that for impossible?” He smirked at me, his brows disappearing into his wet hair.

  “Okay, you proved your point.” I dropped my hand around his neck—his skin was searing hot. “You can stop showing off now.”

  He made a face like he was considering that before shaking his head. “Nah, not yet.” Then his mouth crashed down on mine as he bowed my back closer.

  The roar around us crescendoed into a whole new realm as Grant Turner kissed me in front of tens of millions of people.

  I knew that no one would forget this game because of the uncatchable throw he’d caught, but it was the way he kissed me that I’d remember.

  It was the kind of kiss a girl couldn’t forget if she wanted to.

  “YOU REALIZE I’M not going to make it through this whole thing without pulling you into some dark corner and having you, right?” Grant’s hand stationed at my back grazed lower.

  My face stayed unaffected, my heart not-so-much. “It’s three hours. There’ll be hundreds of people there. Hundreds of people who will want a piece of the Grant Turner pie. I think your presence will be missed, even if it’s for only ten minutes.”

  Grant’s fingers played with the short hem of my dress swirling around my legs. “You in this dress?” He lowered his mouth to my ear. “I don’t need ten minutes.”

  I fought my smile. “Five?”

  “Try however long it takes me to get my fly down and your panties pulled aside.”

  Just before we stepped inside the big ballroom, I paused. Looking at him, I pressed up onto my tiptoes. His hands dropped to my hips.

  “I might have forgotten to put something on earlier.” I breathed slowly into his ear until I felt him shudder. “I wanted to save time.”

  As quickly as I’d rolled to a stop, I started moving again like nothing had just happened. Grant must have needed a moment to recover because he had to jog to catch up to me a few moments later.

  “Fuck this party. Let’s get out of here so I can fuck you instead.” His expression was hopeful, even as a stream of people started winding in our direction now that the MVP had arrived.

  “Your patience will be rewarded.” I winked at him as his hand tucked around mine.

  “Cruel and unusual punishment,” he muttered before he greeted some of his teammates with handshakes and high fives.

  I stood at his side, the only place I felt like I belonged at a get-together like this. The New York Storm’s owners threw a big, over-the-top party every time the Storm had come out on top of a season, and this year’s party was taking place in a top floor ballroom in one of New York City’s high rises. The view alone was unreal, but the décor spread around the room was not to be outdone. I wasn’t sure the Pharaohs had seen such lavish excess.

  It was such a strange world to be a part of. Such a stark contrast to the one I’d known as a child. Going from having to dig through people’s garbage some nights to having caviar served on gold-leaf spoons was as opposite as it got. I wasn’t comfortable with either extreme—I was happier being able to put simple meals on the table every night.

  Grant was in the same boat, so we usually left these kinds of events starving and peeling into the first semi-healthy fast-food joint we could find. I didn’t think my stomach would know what to do with caviar or duck liver. Besides the obvious.

  Grant played nice and mingled with the team managers and owners for a whole ten minutes before he started steering me toward a quiet corner.

  “I need a fucking break,” he said under his breath, shaking a few more hands as we milled through the crowd.

  “Fine, okay. Take a breather, grab something to drink, then we’ll go back in.” I looped an arm behind his back. I’d gone to enough of these kinds of parties with him this season to know they were a rare form of torture for him. From the schmoozing to the adults-only policy to the penguin suits, they just weren’t his thing.

  “No, I don’t mean fucking as an adjective but as a verb. I need a fucking break, as in I need a break for fucking.” His eyes were facing forward, but I didn’t miss the glint in them.

  “My, someone’s been going over their English lessons.”

  “Yeah, our first grader’s been schooling me.”

  A laugh spilled past my lips. “Right now, you can have an adjective fucking break. Later, you can have a verb fucking break.”

  He looked like I’d just told him he had to go on a sex fast for forty days. “Fine,” he grunted. “Then you’re just going to have to dance with me.”

  My eyes circled the large room. “There isn’t a dance floor, babe. Not a dancing type of shindig.”

  “Does it look like I give a literal or figurative shit?” He grinned at me as he gathered me close, tucking my head under his chin.

  “No,” I breathed, leaning into him. “It doesn’t.”

  We stood like that for a while, wrapped around one another, moving to the rhythm of an imaginary beat.

  “Ready for Europe?” he asked softly.

  I nodded against his chest. “I’m ready.”

  “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands curled deeper into me, drawing me closer. “You’re the only one for me, Ryan Hale. In this life and whatever others we have coming. Don’t forget that.”

  I felt my smile form. “How could I? You remind me on an hourly basis.” My hands disappeared beneath the back of his tuxedo coat, spreading out against his back to feel the warmth spilling from his skin. “You know, I talked with Ravi about how much this experimental drug is going to cost and holy private island price tag.” My heart stopped as I replayed the number in my head. “It’s too much. You know that, right? I don’t want your retirement plan to be a cardboard box propped beneath an interstate overpass.”

  Grant’s body rocked with his huff. “If I get to retire in that cardboard box with you, sign me up.”

  I leaned my head back to look up at him. “It’s too much.”

  His brows came together like he was questioning my sanity. “I’d
pay everything I have to spend one more hour with you,” he said, his hands cupping my face. “This has the ability to give me a few more decades. The price tag is the fucking deal of the century.”

  My throat bobbed, trying to swallow the emotion creeping up my throat. “You’re the best man in the whole world.”

  “Nah.” He shook his head, grinning. “I’m still a piece of shit. Just a piece of shit who loves the shit out of you.”

  Our heads turned to look out at the view below us. New York City looked like it was at our fingertips. All of it within reach, waiting for us to point our fingers its way.

  “Did you ever imagine we’d be here one day?” I whispered.

  His fingers brushed against me. “The only thing I imagined back then was being with you. That was all I cared about.”

  “Well, you have me. And Charlie. And all that comes with that.” My fingers curled into his shirt. “You’re still good with our decision not to have her tested? You’re fine not knowing? Letting her decide for herself one day if she wants?”

  His back quivered for a moment, his chest stilling. Then he nodded. “Yes. It won’t change how I feel about her. It won’t change the way I love her. Nothing can change that. It should be up to her if she wants to know that one day.”

  For one brief moment, I felt as though I was the one holding him up, which had become more common lately. I’d been used to Grant holding me up and sheltering me from the storm, but now we seemed to support each other in equal amounts.

  “It’s the right decision,” I said.

  “How do you know?”

  I exhaled. “Because it isn’t the easy one.”

  We stayed like that a few minutes more, dancing a slow dance to a fast song. I knew if it were up to Grant, he’d be happy to stay like this the rest of the night, but he had a role to play in this world, and it wasn’t just as the boy from The Clink who’d fallen in love with a scared young girl.

  “You’ve got mingling duty.” I lowered my arms and stepped out of his hold, eyeing the party taking place all around us.