“It’s another one about you, and it’s nowhere near finished.” As if that would deter me from hearing it.
“I can promise you I won’t mind. I just like hearing about your process.”
She reaches up and rests her hand against my cheek. “Anything for you.” She sits up and shakes out her arms. “I don’t usually perform songs this unfinished for people, so don’t laugh.” When I don’t answer right away, she whips her head up and stares me down.
“I won’t laugh,” I say in defense.
With nothing more than a chord progression, a title, and a few lines here and there, Mae presents “By Winter.” The song is from the perspectives of two people who look for a future where neither will remember the bad events of the past because the world feels so right when they’re together.
The protagonists of the story fight to leave the hurt behind while only taking the things with them that will fuel them with happiness. Her verses are pretty empty, but the chorus is finished, and the bridge is well on its way to being one of her best.
“By winter, I’ll barely remember how he took my moment and shattered it on the ground,” she sings.
The cadence and the switching of chords make the song sound like a summer breeze, something that could be played with a big string band behind it or stripped down to the instrument of her choice.
“And by spring, you’ll abandon all your plans that aren’t me. By summer, we’ll be happy and the world will finally turn.” She stops singing, but the chords continue. “I don’t have lyrics to finish out the song,” she hums in tune as the playing comes to a stop.
“What an incredible mind,” I whisper. She’s spilled her whole heart out in the living room, with me present.
She rolls her eyes and sets the guitar on its stand. “Not really; I do this all the time. It just happens.”
“All the more reason to say it then,” I scoff, pulling her back down beside me.
It’s almost too easy to relax against each other here. We spent the night together in the hotel in Baton Rouge, and while I have no intention of making that happen here tonight, she’s so warm spooning up against me, and it has been a long day. Snuggling into the crook of the couch, I wrap my arms around her and domy best to get her hair out of my face without making it too obvious. I feel her chuckle as she turns slightly to trap the locks.
Our eyes meet in the dim light and for a moment, we embrace the sanctity of the moment. It’s been a few weeks since we’ve been together, and except for a few hours of practice and games, all my thoughts have belonged to her. Every moment of freedom, I’ve wanted to be with her, to be beside her just like this. With her snuggled close to me and the feel of her thigh in the palm of my hand, I desperately want to kiss her.
Leaning in, she obliges me. Our lips meet and, for the first time, we don’t have any need to feel rushed. We know we have as much time as we want tonight and in total privacy. We take the kisses slowly at first, exploring what we’ve sensed from the beginning.
Whatever it is between us, it glows golden. It’s like I’ve woken from a 20-year slumber to the most brilliant sunrise I’ve ever witnessed. It carries us to the precipice and then all the way home.
Chapter 28
Mae
IT’S BEEN A WEEK since the world saw me flee the stage with my dignity. Today, the world gets to see me as I want to be viewed: confident, sexy, and a supportive girlfriend. It’s Wyatt’s semi-final matchup in Chicago, and I would regret not being here for him.
Stepping out of the car in my boots, black jeans, a laced-up purple corset, and a team jacket, I hold my head high and make direct eye contact with the photographers outside of the stadium. Today, I want people to see me. I look damn good. I’m talking Lady Di, revenge dress, good.
Smirking, I wave to a group of employees holding their phones as Raleigh steps out behind me. Together, we enter the stadium and are carted around to the opposite side where we take an elevator up to the suite level.
I’m greeted like an old friend and the realization of this rests easy on my heart. Hannah lures me into a hug, and her minisfollow behind her with snacks and a soda. With an arm still around me, Hannah and I find seats nearest the window. I pull Carly up onto my lap, and we share her bowl of pretzels as the teams ramp up to enter the field.
With much fanfare, the home team makes their arrival, sprinting through the tunnel onto the field. The Gators follow with less enthusiasm from the crowd but with an equal amount of energy in their movements. I spy my number 24 immediately and elect to keep my eyes on him through the pregame and into the national anthem.
My focus only breaks when I’m shown on the big screen as they break for the final commercial set before the game. I grab Hannah’s hand, and we dance along to the music playing, one of my songs. I’m fully prepared to give them the biggest show of their lives, and I’m glad Hannah is in on it with me.
I make a point of letting myself have fun during the game. In the past, I’ve been so aware of all the eyes on me that I reserved myself. Here in the Windy City, I let all of my worries blow away. I have a few drinks and dance with the other wives and girlfriends in between possessions.
My immersion is only broken during a third-down play in the second quarter. Ben throws the ball to a wide open Wyatt, and he turns to run. Leaping to my feet, I throw a fist in the air and yell alongside my girlfriends. The wind is knocked out of me as Wyatt is met head-on with a defender. Lowering his helmet, the other player lays into him. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd as the flags are thrown and the play is called dead.
My fingers find my mouth when Wyatt doesn’t immediately walk it off. The other player rolls around in pain for a moment until he’s met with the training staff. “Get up, Wyatt,” I whisper. Hannah’s cool hand finds mine, and we cling to each other while he’s smothered by the team trainers. The camera crew pans tome, and I catch a glance of my worried face as I squint down at the field.
In seconds that feel like years, his helmet is off, and he’s sitting up. When the cameras realize this, attention is turned back to him. I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Wyatt finds his feet and holds a wavering thumbs up to the crowd.
The audience, not below good sportsmanship, lets a roar of applause give way before the referees return to the field and eject the offending player for targeting. None of that really matters to me, though. My eyes are trying to keep up with Wyatt as he retreats through the ranks of his teammates before disappearing completely into a makeshift tent.
Hannah squeezes my hand. “He’s up and walking,” she whispers. “That’s a great sign.”
