Chapter Forty

Willa

I had hoped that the little tickle in my throat and the headache I'd gotten after I ate dinner last night weren't going to morph into something more, but life sometimes enjoys having a laugh at our expense.

Kevin is sitting beside me in the green room. "Do you want me to see if we can get you into an urgent care?"

My throat is on fire, and my nose is clogged. If I don't take care of this soon, I'm going to have an issue when it comes to singing. I make it a point to never lip-synch if I can help it. There have been times when I've had to, but this is Nashville. It's my first performance in front of the hometown crowd since everyone has found out about Blake and I. I want this to be perfect, or as perfect as it can be. "I mean, is anything open?"

CeCe comes in with her phone in her hand, texting furiously.

"Things will open for you." Kevin raises his eyebrows. "I think both of us know that."

"No, the team doctor says he'll help." CeCe holds her phone up. "I texted him. When I was pregnant with Jovi, I had really bad all-day sickness. He helped me out once, and I kept his contact info. When I told him it was Willa who needed assistance, he was on board. We just need to get there a few minutes early, and he'll get you taken care of."

"Oh my god, thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. I didn't even think about the team doctor."

Her smile is full of pride. "It's no problem. I'm so happy to have helped. We'll see you at the game?"

"Yeah." I nod. "I'll see y'all there. I will not be hugging, obviously."

"Obviously." Her voice is deadpan. "See ya."

"Deep breath," the Warriors' team doctor instructs me. "Quick stick. This should get you through the performance. It's a high, high dose of steroids. I'll meet you at Blake's after the game and get you situated with some actual medication."

"Thank you." I wince when the needle goes into my hip. It's a sharp sting, and then I feel the sensation of the medicine entering my body. I wish Blake were here to hold my hand, but he's out on the field. Glancing up at the TV that's playing over our heads, I see Blake running toward the end zone. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

The crowd, the doctor and I go wild as Blake crosses into the end zone for his second touchdown of the game. He makes heart hands at the camera pointed his way before sharing a a bro hug with one of his teammates. This puts the Warriors ahead by fourteen, and that feels as if it's a good omen. They wave at the stands as they leave the field and head for the locker room.

"Let's go, Willa. We gotta get out there." Scott ushers everyone toward the door and out to the tunnel. I've never performed anything other than the national anthem at a football game before, and because it's this one, an important Thanksgiving game, and for the man I love's team, I'm beyond nervous.

As I'm escorted down the tunnel, toward the field, I think about what is about to happen. I'm wearing Blake's jersey—his last name and number are on my back. It'll be ripped off before the performance begins, but this is a calculated move. The electricity of the crowd causes goosebumps on my arms.

We reach the middle of the field, and I get my cue. My stomach has the butterflies I love, the ones I get right before each performance, the ones that tell me this is what I'm meant to be doing. Stepping onto the stage, I wait for it to rise, and when it does, I take in the crowd, hearing their screaming voices. Positioning my mic in front of my face, I give them a wink before the jersey is ripped off my body and I'm left in nothing but my glittery, shimmery stage attire, and thigh-high boots. Taking a deep breath, I hope the shot the doctor gave me works and that my voice holds out.

"In the middle of the…"

And as I hit the high note, I'm thankful—thankful that my voice holds out, that this is what I get to do, and that the crowd still cheers for it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Blake asks, his arm around me after the game is over, and we're being escorted out of the stadium on a golf cart. The Warriors won by fifteen, and have now clinched the top spot in their division. They're the ones to beat.

"Yeah, I just feel like trash, and I hate that I'm going to see your family like this." I clear my throat, taking a drink of the orange juice Scott has provided for me. "The shot the doctor gave me is quickly wearing off. I hope they don't mind if I'm not my usual bubbly self. Our first Thanksgiving together." I pout.

He runs his big palm down the side of my throat. "It's going to be fine. They don't expect you to be the Willa they see on TV or on stage. They realize off-stage, you're different, just like I'm different when I'm not playing in front of a stadium full of people. I mean, from what I heard you bought them dinner last night. What's going on with you?"

"Thanks." I smile over at him. "I just don't feel well and when I don't feel well, all my insecurities rear their ugly heads. It's nice to be with someone who understands and who I don't have to explain myself to. I can be myself with you, even if that version of myself is different than what others expect."

"Please always be yourself with me. I don't want you any other way. Neither do they. We all love the Willa we've gotten to know over the past few months."

My eyes get misty with a sudden onslaught of tears that I'm unprepared for. "Thank you."

He leans in, but I move back. "I'm sick."

"Fuck it—I don't care. I'm willing to take one for the team. If I get a cold, then so be it. I need to kiss those lips."

Our eyes meet, and this is when I know this is the man I'm going to love for my entire life. We're not old and married yet but I know without a doubt that this world we're building is ours, and I wouldn't have it any other way.