Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

TATE

‘A re you sure you’re going to be okay, on your own?’ I ask for the second time, even though it’s only a three-mile walk. I don’t want to let her go. We found a map in one of the drawers that showed us we’re not that far off the beaten track. The highway is only a mile to the south of us and the town, in the opposite direction. Suggesting I go with her is a non-starter, we both know that I’m instantly recognisable, Superbowl fever is running high. There’s much less chance of her being noticed when she walks into the small town to pick up supplies and, most importantly, a new phone. Good job credit cards are waterproof.

Lily takes my face in her hands and kisses me on the lips. Immediately, I think of her mouth around my dick less than an hour ago, and I deepen the kiss because I can’t help myself.

When we part, her face looking delightfully flushed, is earnest.

‘Tate, I’ve been taking care of myself, since I was a child.’

‘Yeah, doesn’t mean you should always have to, though,’ I grumble.

‘Don’t forget, I’m a trained killer.’ She winks, and I love that she’s trying to lighten the mood because she doesn’t want me to worry. ‘Quite capable of snapping a man’s neck with my bare hands.’

I raise an eyebrow and play along. ‘And have you?’ Although I’m sure she’s capable of it, it’s hard to reconcile that with the sweet, sexy woman of earlier who was on her knees in front of me.

She gives me a flirty smile and in a low, throaty voice says, ‘Not telling, I like keeping you guessing. Keeping you on your toes.’ She kisses me again, full on the mouth, and I laugh– probably as she intended. She’s walking into Belleton to let Winston know that we’re safe but keep our precise location on the downlow. It hurts like fuck that she’s still adamant someone on the inside, on the team, is involved. But after our near miss, I’m inclined to follow her advice, even though I’m convinced she’s wrong.

‘I should be a couple of hours, but I’ll be back with some more breakfast options and protein-friendly meals.’ Pop-Tarts and pizza aren’t exactly nutritious and we’re both craving a decent cup of coffee, the limited supply in the cabin is long gone.

‘You’d better get Winston to speak to my dad,’ I say. ‘If he hasn’t heard from me, he’s likely to raise the alarm, and if the media gets wind all hell could break loose, which won’t do the team any good. This close to the game, they need to focus.’

‘As soon as I get back with a new phone you can contact him yourself,’ she says, then opens the external door. ‘Will you be okay?’

‘After you’ve nearly sexed me to death?’ I tease.

That rosy blush tints her cheeks, but her eyes sparkle with amusement. ‘You’re so not funny.’

‘Oh, but I am.’

‘Don’t answer the door to anyone.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Who do you think is going to come calling?’

‘No one, I hope. It’s called sensible precautions. Don’t do anything stupid.’

‘Stupid? Like what?’ I have every intention of doing a very physical workout. The big game is coming up faster than I’d like, and I need to make sure I’m in top condition. I’ve already missed a day’s weight training and conditioning, and all that sex, great as it was, sadly doesn’t count.

‘I don’t know with you,’ she says.

‘You had no problem with anything I was doing last night.’

Her mouth twists in amusement. ‘That was last night.’

‘Or this morning…’ I can’t help pressing her.

She gives me a reproving grin. ‘You never give up the advantage, do you?’

‘Nope. It’s one of my strengths, on and off the field.’

‘I’m going,’ she says, shaking her head, but she’s smiling, too. ‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’

‘Don’t stay out too late, honey.’ Again, I have to have the last word.

* * *

I stand on the veranda and watch Lily walk through the trees until she’s swallowed by the shadows and disappears from view. Leaning on the balustrade, I listen to the sound of the bayou around me, the birdsong bouncing over the nearby water and the wind whispering through the trees. The encroaching sounds reinforce the silence of the cabin and amplifies the sense of isolation. Being alone has never bothered me, I’ve always filled the space with training, watching football clips, listening or viewing sport, but I don’t like the quiet. I like noise, background sound.

With my AirPods at bottom of the bayou, no doubt well and truly waterlogged, I put the TV on a music channel and turn it up full blast so that I can hear it outside on the veranda to do a HIT workout.

Conscious that this has to count, I sweat my way through squats, burpees, lunges, twists, and push-ups– and hold a plank for five minutes.

The workout focuses my mind. My muscles are primed, my body is conditioned and ready to go. I am in the best shape of my life. I’ve worked for this. It’s going to be okay.

Even so, frustration starts to creep in. I feel like I’m in one of those dark fairy tales, where temptation is dangled and the protagonists have to resist.

These last few days are so important.

I should be out on the gridiron.

I need to be throwing and catching the ball, dodging and manoeuvring with my teammates. Practising drills and working on our plays.

I do another round of lunges.

Shit, I hope Lily speaks to Winston first. Coach will lose his shit if I’m not at practice. I don’t even know when it is.

Even though my muscles are fatigued, I push myself to do more reps of squats.

And what about my teammates thinking that I get a pass on training? That will create resentment. Destroy trust. A knot ties itself hard in my left shoulder. This week I should be with the team masseur; she’s got strong, skilful hands and keeps my muscles in tiptop shape. She’s been instrumental in preventing injuries.

I shake my head. This is not like me. It’s additional nerves with the game coming up. My mind is spiralling like crazy.

I take a long shower and my thoughts turn elsewhere. The cold tiles at my back, Lily’s hot body pressed up against my front while water cascaded down us both. I smile to myself, that was another workout. I wander out in a towel and consider helping myself to another couple of Pop Tarts. I could murder a protein shake, too. My diet has gone to hell this last forty-eight hours. I flex a bicep. Muscle loss can occur after twenty-four hours if you don’t eat any protein.

At least I can stay hydrated. I console myself with a pint of water, loaded with ice and go into the lounge to turn off the thudding base that’s still pounding out of the TV speaker. At the last minute, I flip the channel because I feel a bit dislocated from real life being stuck out here and find a local news network. There’s a piece about an alligator getting into a supermarket and spending the weekend there before being chased out, which amuses me and then the studio presented announces we’re going live to New Orleans’ city centre.

The scene cuts to a local news anchor outside a very familiar scene, I perch on the edge of the seat. It’s the hotel Lily and I are staying in– if we manage to get back there. As I watch, a luxury coach with dark tinted windows pulls into the turning circle in front of the building.

‘And the Superbowl excitement notches up another level with the arrival of the Austin Armadillos, who flew into New Orleans earlier this morning.’

What? I sit bolt upright. That’s a day early.

‘This afternoon, they’ll be taking part in their first pre-game practice at a top-secret location in the city.’ The anchor grins at the camera and then steps closer, lowering his voice as he speaks into the mic. ‘My money is on the Strawberry Fields Stadium. Stay tuned to WWL-TV to keep abreast of all the football news you need to know.’

I snap the TV off as the ad break comes on.

‘Shit,’ I say out loud. The team weren’t due until tomorrow. Practice this afternoon! I have to be there. I can’t miss it. No way. This is my life. I check my watch. It’s just after 11am. If practice is at three, like it usually is, I can be there. If I make it to the highway I could hitch a lift.

I look towards the door that Lily walked out of a scant hour and a half ago.

Shit.

I can’t walk out on her… not now.

But I have to. I have no choice.

This is bigger than both of us.

This is the Superbowl, the thing that kept me sane after she left, what I’ve been striving towards nearly all my life.

This isn’t just about me. It’s the team. My responsibility as Captain. My dad has spent his life supporting me, putting me ahead of his marriage because Mom didn’t understand how passionate he is about my success.

I check the time again, the second hand ticks by, relentless and insistent. With every tick, my decision firms. I have to get back to the city. I try to tell myself, Lily will understand, though I know in my heart of hearts that she’ll be furious with me. But this is more important than what I want, or what she wants. This is outside of us. My dad taught me that football is bigger than everything else. I’ve come so far and people are depending on me, fans are relying on me. This is not about me and what I want, it’s about delivering on my promise. I have to be at practice this afternoon.

I gather up my stained sneakers, which still smell of swamp water, and pull on my crumpled T-shirt.

Checking the map, I work out that if I walk due south, I’ll hit the highway, from where I can thumb a lift. There are some bonuses to being a famous athlete and a hot-news contender for the Superbowl. I’m confident I’ll get picked up pretty quickly.

I pause. Lily. I ought to leave a note for her. I rummage around in a couple of drawers and find a pen and pad of paper.

I write the first words.

Lily. I’m sorry

My pen sticks to the sheet. What do I write next. ‘ I’m sorry, but …’

That’s a cop out. It means I’m not sorry at all. And I am sorry. Really, really, really, really sorry. How do I tell her, I have to go to practice. For so many reasons, I have to.

I screw up the sheet of paper. What I really want to say is that I love her, but at the same time I’m walking out on her, choosing football over her. Again.

The fact is, I don’t have a choice. The Armadillos may only ever get one shot at the Superbowl. I owe it to my dad, my team, the fans, everyone.

This isn’t about me and what I want.