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He nods, and I adjust our positions. I sneak out from behind him so we’re sitting side by side, and I smile at him. There’s color on his cheeks and a twinkle in his eye. His breathing is back to normal, and he looksgood, like the man I had in bed with me until early this morning.
Before I know what I’m doing, I lean forward and kiss him. It’s frantic and hurried, but I need to make sure he’s okay,really okay.
I’ll be a mess if he isn’t.
Shawn groans against my mouth, and his hands find my hair. He pulls the beanie off my head and throws it to the side. His fingers thread through my braids and he tugs on the long strands.
“Lacey,” he says, and he lifts me into his lap. “I love when you wear your hair like this.”
“I’m not fucking you in the medical tent with thousands of people outside,” I warn him, and his laugh is warm against my skin. “You’re not in the right headspace for that.”
“No, I’m not. I just want you close. Thank you for coming to check on me. It means a lot that you’re here.”
“I told you there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” I kiss his forehead and run my hand down his cheek. Stubble prickles the pads of my fingers, and I like the scruff he has today. “Do you have to go back out there?”
“I should. I don’t want anyone to worry about me. Or for them to start writing articles that I’m banging my girlfriend on the sidelines.”
“Or in supply closets,” I add, and he tilts his head back and laughs.
“Or supply closets. I wish I didn’t have to go back to the game, though. I’d like to just escape.”
“What if we did escape? We can make up an excuse and leave. Food poisoning is a good one.”
“You’d do that for me?” he asks, and I understand there have been times in Shawn’s life—too many times—where he’s had to put on a brave face for people when all he wants to do is hide. “I don’t want you to miss the rest of the game.”
“Like it’d be any fun without you. Your ass looks great in your joggers. It’s pretty much the only reason why I’m here.”
“And to cheer on Dallas,” Shawn says. “I remember you liking his jersey.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I sigh when his tongue traces across my collarbone. “You’re my favorite guy on the squad.”
“Good answer,” he whispers, and he buries his face between my breasts. “I’m afraid to go back out there.”
“You won’t be alone. I’m right here,” I say, and I rub his scalp with my fingernails. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours. I like yours.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.”
THIRTY-THREE
SHAWN
We sneakout of the stadium through a side door in the tunnel and climb into my Range Rover before anyone from the media can realize I’m gone.
I had a quick huddle with the guys before I left, and I let them know I’d see them on Tuesday. They pulled me into a group hug and murmured words of understanding. Support and encouragement. Affirmations I still feel in my chest.
I’ve always loved the camaraderie of a team, but this is different.
This is a support system, my brothers who stand with me when the going gets tough. I’m not letting them down; they’re lifting me up. It’s a collective effort—sometimes I’m going to carry them, and other times, like today, they’re going to carry me.
A ball of emotion sits in my throat as we head toward Lacey’s apartment, a spool of thread that slowly unravels the further we get from the stadium. It’s hard to describe how much it means to me to know I have dozens of men who have my back andloveme.
The woman holding my hand and drawing circles on the inside of my wrist doesn’t hurt either.
We don’t talk on the drive, settling into the notes of a random classical music playlist I find on the internet instead of mindless conversation.
I like it, though.
