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I saw the surprise flash across his eyes. He hadn’t expected me to say that. His expression softened, and my heart began to sing as he smiled down at me.
And then he put up his own walls.
“I care deeply about you, too.” He cupped my chin and brushed his lips against mine. “More than you know. No matter what happens, I’ll never forget you or our time together, Caz.”
He gave me a final smile, then went into the locker room. I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths.I knew he might not say it back. That’s not why I told him.
But my stomach was twisting into knots of pain. It felt like a goodbye.
Luke was incredible during the game, catching a deep pass on the first play for 40 yards. When the Steelers defender finally brought him down, Luke hopped up and put his facemask against the other player’s. He shoved Luke back, and then both teams were rushing together, scuffling and shouting. The crowd rained cheers and approval down on them until the referees broke it up.
“Personal foul,” the referee boomed over the loudspeakers. “Number seven on the offense. Taunting. 15-yard penalty.”
“He’s got some fire in him today!” said one of the fans in my row. “You love to see it.”
The coach had Luke sit out the next play, then sent him back out onto the field. Even over the crowd noise, I could hear him shouting at Dallas: “Give me the ball! Give me the fucking ball!”
Sure enough, on the next play Dallas hit Luke on a button route. Luke juked past two defenders and then dove into the end zone for an easy touchdown. The crowd went crazy, and I was on my feet screaming with the rest of them. Luke jogged back to the bench, receiving helmet pats from teammates and shouts of encouragement. He took them all with the steel gaze of a warrior who still had fighting to do.
But most notably, he didn’t give me his customary post-touchdown wink. He didn’t look in my direction at all.It’s because he’s focused. Not because of anything else.
Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had made a mistake by telling him I loved him.
The Stallions never fell behind after jumping to an early 7 - 0 lead. In fact, aside from forcing a Dallas Lockett fumble in the second quarter, Pittsburgh hardly seemed to put up a fight at all. The Stallions defense, led by Steve Cooper, completely shut down the Steelers offense, and they won, 49 - 7.
Fireworks exploded inside the stadium and confetti rained down on the fans. The Stallions were going back to the Super Bowl, earning themselves a chance to be the first team in NFL history to win the big game three years in a row.
But all I could think about was the threat the attacker had made about the Super Bowl, and how now therealpressure was falling onto Luke’s shoulders.
The on-field celebrations took an extra long time, as did the post-game interviews. When the dust had settled and all obligations were completed, the Stallions went out to owner Kenneth MacMillan’s club. There was extra security at the door and throughout the club tonight, since a third of the occupants were Stallions players and employees, but I refused to let my guard down. Just because the attacker had made a threat about the Super Bowl didn’t mean he wouldn’t try something before the big game.
Luke was acting drunk within an hour, although I hardly saw him drink except for a shot of Fireball whiskey and a beer that he nursed. They must have been chugging champagne in the locker room. With a little coaxing, I ushered him out of the club and into an Uber. Still feeling paranoid, I only relaxed when I saw that the driver was a woman.
Despite slurring his words a little bit, Luke was able to walk into the apartment building without assistance. I glanced up the street and nodded to myself when I saw the patrol car parked in its usual spot. Even though they were supposed to be providing round-the-clock coverage of Luke’s apartment, I had caught the night shift disappearing to get Taco Bell late at night on several occasions. I didn’t like there to be any gap in coverage, even for the fifteen minutes it took to pick up midnight chalupas.
“Did you see that the Vikings won the NFC?” I asked Luke when we were safely inside his apartment.
He poured a glass of water and bobbed his head. “You probably want me to throw the Super Bowl, so your team can finally win a ring.”
I smirked. “Tempting, but I don’t want them to win that way. And I definitely don’t want you caving to this maniac’s demands. I want you playing like you did today. Like you have something to prove.”
“Good,” he said, putting down the water glass. “Because I don’t plan to. As long as I have you to protect me, I’m not afraid.”
I kissed him. “As long as I’m your bodyguard, nothing can hurt you.”
For a moment, he almost looked sober as he gazed back at me. I wondered what was going through his head, and then he took a step back and gripped the kitchen counter for support.
“I’m going to go pass out,” he said. “Don’t take it personally, but is it cool if I sleep alone? I don’t want to get sick around you.”
“Only if you let me help you.”
I stripped him down to his boxers and got him into bed. I placed a trash can on the ground next to him and put a fresh Gatorade on the nightstand.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Did you think about what I said today? Before the game?”
He closed his eyes and snuggled against his pillow. “What is there to think about?”
“Nothing. Nevermind. Goodnight.”
