Deep breaths are all I can do as security lets us into the suite. I’m expecting a bombardment of people, but thankfully, I’m met with turned heads and waves, except for one. An older woman stares at me and crosses her arms. “You wore the wrong colors dear.”
“Now, Nana,” Hannah says, leaving my side to distract her. “This is Wyatt’s guest.”
“Ah, yes, the singer. Still wearing the wrong colors.” Hannah gives me an apologetic look, but I meet it head-on. I love a little old lady spunk.
“I’m Mae Evans,” I say, extending my hand.
“This is my husband’s grandmother,” Hannah explains. The old woman continues to stare at me until the announcer starts to read off the rosters, at which point she hobbles to a chair near the window, and I drop my hand.
“I am so, so, sorry,” Hannah squeaks. “She’s the only family that Ben and I really have.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I share a sad smile with her, trying to ignore the implications of what she’s saying. “She reminds me of my grandmother. She passed away a few years ago.” Hannah rests a hand on my shoulder briefly before joining the others on the balcony. She probably already knew that. She probably knows I just lied. Gran passed before I’d made a name for myself–the one person in my family who cared about me and my aspirations.
Drawn to the balcony as the National Anthem begins, I let the song overtake me. Music has the power to calm me down in any situation. I am so thankful for it at this moment.
“Hey Mae, are you going to sing the anthem?” A woman holding a toddler asks. A cluster of people who had heard the question lean in for the answer.
“If I’m asked, I suppose. It’d be an honor.”
As the game begins, it’s clear that Nashville is not going to win. A few early turnovers have me groaning and tugging at the jersey hanging toward my knees. I’ve made my bed with the outfit choice, and I’ll sleep in it. The color looked better on me than the swampy green and purple of LA anyway.
At the beginning of halftime, I linger at the overhang to look across the stadium and picture myself working the stage at the center of the field. It had truly been the best show of my life. The crowd was incredible; I’d debuted my work on the fiddle, and it had all gone to plan. If I could put that crowd in every place I perform, I would never complain again.
I’ve taken too much time reminiscing, it seems, as the camera crews have finally been able to pin me down. Instead of scurrying away into the box, I lift a hand and wave out at the crowd. The cheers heighten, and I’m taken back to the final song of the night. I’m so thankful, and somewhat surprised, that I don’t hear any boos.
As halftime goes on, I’m relieved to know the women around me want to include me in their conversation. The best part? The conversation isn’t about me, or Wyatt, or even the game. It’s about life, about their kids, and the newest recipe to try. It’s all so real and mundane, and it causes me to glance over at Raleigh with genuine happiness.
Nashville continues to get pummeled. So much so that LA pulls their starters, including Wyatt. During a transition from offense to defense, they replay the clip of me waving from earlier. Cutting from me to the sidelines, they show Wyatt looking up into the crowd. His hands are resting on the collar of his pads, and his eyes are glistening from the heat of the game.
Standing, I make my way outside. Wyatt’s face ignites with an adorable, lopsided smirk before Ben pops up beside him and waves into the camera. Hannah steps up beside me, and we both wave down at the boys. The camera catches it all as the crowd whistles in delight.
***
The nerves really start when the final whistle blows. It was easy to be of Wyatt’s interest from afar. When we meet face-to-face, all the barriers will slowly have to come down and he’ll see just how much of a sassy mess I can be.
For a good hour after the game, we wait outside the locker room with other family members. I‘m so nervous that my hands go towards my mouth several times, all of which Raleigh shuts down before I can gross anyone out.
When the team finally starts to exit, kids run to their fathers, including little Carly and Benjamin. Looking up from their small stature, my eyes continue to climb up two hulking trees.
Wyatt Lucas and Ben Martinez; two peas in a pod. Two very tall and muscular peas in a pod. I’m afraid I’ve embarrassed myself when I’m caught looking at him, but Wyatt’s gaze on me doesn’t waver either. I kind of like the fact that I’ve caught him looking at me again, and I can’t say that he seems weirded out by my attention either. Seeing him this close is like being punched in the gut in the best way possible. The beautiful green eyes that sliced through the crowd the night of the concert are accompanied by a strong jawline and the same lopsided grin I saw on the big screen earlier.
Ben is the first to make a move. With a kid anchored to each leg, he still makes quick work of the space between us. I shake his outstretched hand and then retreat when Wyatt steps up nextto him. He offers the same greeting. With a well-hidden gasp, I take his hand in mine. When was the last time I was touched by a man I was actually interested in? I pull away quickly, and he puts his hands behind his back.Oh my god. Have I already scared him off?
There are no cameras around, just very interested people, which almost makes the situation more awkward. I’m left gawking until he clears his throat and speaks to me like no one else is in the room, “I know you’ve gotta fly back tonight.” Noticing the interested parties slowly crowding in on us, he leans closer to me. “Would you mind if I drove you to the airport?”
The thought of freely driving around in his vintage convertible is exciting, to say the least. Again, the knowledge of my fans comes in handy. I find myself nodding as I think about the fire-red car that had circulated on a few of my fan pages. Feeling Dalton’s presence, I look over my shoulder and find him shaking his head. I stare at the floor and mumble, “My bodyguard will drive behind us.” I don’t know why I feel embarrassed telling him that information.
“Hey,” he says, brushing my shoulder gently. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Shocked by his coolness, I look up into his eyes and take a moment to study him. He’s even more stunning here than on the big screen. I thought I’d be uncomfortable meeting a man like this, but the adrenaline is helping me lock down all of my preconceived nerves. Still needing a slight push to take the next step, I turn fully to Raleigh and Dalton. Raleigh is the first to give me a slight nod of approval. I’m not sure if Dalton does, but it’s too late because I’m already heading toward the VIP parking lot with a man I barely know.
How thrilling.
Chapter 7
Wyatt
MAE IS SILENT ON THE walk to the car. I can’t say I’ve been talkative either; I really don’t know if I’ve said anything. All I can seem to focus on is the sound of her boots tapping against the pavement and her high ponytail swishing back and forth with each drop of her foot.
“Isn’t this your car?” she asks. I’m scared to know how long I’ve been standing here just gaping at her.
