Give Me You (29 page)

Skylar deserves this and I’m so happy he got the opportunity he deserved. I vow that I will never ever try and make him choose between his career and me. I trust him. It took losing him to realize it, but I do.

Nervous butterflies swam in my stomach as I enter the stadium. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but coming here was not one of them.

We can do this.

I just hope that I can hang onto the courage that got me here.

After the Brazilian anthem, a few others play and the game begins. Skylar isn’t announced so he isn’t a starter. I get up several times, to get a soda, a snack, and use the ladies room, but it’s a good game and I’m glad I came.

If I squint, I can make out a player warming up on the sidelines that I’m pretty positive is him. At the end, the score is 3-1 and Skylar’s team won even though he never saw any playing time. It’s silly, but in a way I’m glad he was being honest about not playing. My snarky subconscious had hissed at me many times that he wasn’t sending me the schedule because he didn’t want to see me.

Very thankful that bitch was wrong.

After the players disappear off the field, I make my way down the bleachers to try and figure out where they’ll be. Security guards line all the entrances and exits and I’m starting to think maybe I should have told him I was coming. At this rate, I might not even be able to see him.

“Miss—you can’t go that way. Players only,” a man in an all black uniform with a unique accent tells me.

“Oh, sorry.” I turn abruptly into the crowd but he calls out after me. “You can wait in the autography area by the concessions if you would like.”

Concessions. I try to remember where the concessions area was from my seat and how far I’ve gone from there. I’m tired and disoriented. My eyes scan above the sea of soccer fans for any signs.

I am overwhelmed. Only a few things are in English and everyone else seems to know where to go except me. Flags are held high and waved in every direction. I narrowly miss catching one in the eye.

There is a chant among the crowd, something upbeat and sacred because the home team won. I can’t help but smile. No matter where he is or who he plays for, I will always be Team Skylar.

A line of young kids has formed to my right and at first, I assume it’s the restroom. But I notice they’re all holding memorabilia. Waiting for autographs. Perfect.

I buy a small Brazilian flag at the stand nearby and take my place in line. A few young boys, who can’t be more than eight, smile at me.

“You like football?” One of them asks me, gesturing to the worn out ball in his hands.

I nod. “Very much.”

He beams at me and he is adorable with his wide chocolate brown eyes and mess of matching hair above his brow. “I play here some day.”

His friends laugh, but I give him a wink. “I bet you will. I have a friend who plays here and you’re probably even better than him already. What position do you play?”

He curls his fingers as if about to tell me a very important secret so I lean in to listen.

“All of them,” he whispers.

A grin spreads across both of our faces. “Then I bet you will be very important to the team.”

His friends tease him for a few minutes while they kick the ball he holds back and forth in the small space. I’m pretty sure they are calling him “Gabriel.” A loud cheer erupts and our line begins to move forward.

I stand on my tiptoes to try and see. A few players I don’t recognize wearing warm up style jackets have begun signing balls and flags and programs. I wait patiently through the line, congratulating the men I don’t know and looking for the one that I do.

And then I see him, leaning down to talk to a group of boys and looking different than I remember. He cut his hair and there are no more wild boyish curls. Only short sharp spikes of dark, damp hair jutting out in all directions. He’s put on more muscle weight than I remember and he’s tan, extremely tan.

Skylar was always handsome in an irresistible sort of way. But now he is a dangerous type of enticing that makes my stomach curl in on itself.

He stands and laughs with his teammates as they sign autographs. Skylar found his home, just as walking toward him feels like I’ve found mine. There are still doubts lingering in my mind and plaguing my soul, voices that tell me I shouldn’t be here, that he’s moved on and won’t care to see me or have time to spend with me. But even if they’re right, at least I know I tried and I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what if.

“Gabriel! Luiz! A woman’s voice shouts above the crowd. In half-English, half-Portuguese, she scolds the boys in front of me.

Luiz, I realize, is a taller version of Gabriel.

She was scared, I gather from her rant. Worried and didn’t know where they were. They were supposed to be in the bathroom, I think. Unfortunately I’m not exactly fluent in Portuguese. Childhood disappointments, however, I am well versed in. This will leave a mark.

The boys look downtrodden as they’re forced out of line before Gabriel has gotten his ball signed. My heart breaks wide open for him. His older brother is comforting him and I’m so close to Skylar I can pick up his scent.

Tears fill Gabriel’s eyes as he steps around the group of boys and ducks under the rope. For the first time I notice that his clothes don’t fit well. On the plane I read about soccer, or football as they call it here, being one of the only ways out of poverty for some kids.

“No sign, mama,” I hear him say. “No one signed it.”

I can fix this. Somehow. I will not be able to sleep even after nearly two days of sleep-deprivation if this little boy does not get his damn ball signed.

“Skylar,” I call out over the boys in front of me. I have to call twice more before his head snaps in my direction. I point frantically at the back of Gabriel’s retreating figure and sign my name in the air. “No one signed his ball.” I push out a pouty lip and trail my finger down my face.

Skylar looks confused and stunned. Thankfully the line moves forward.

“Corin? What are you doing here?”

Never in my life have I seen him this surprised. I can’t tell if it’s a good surprise or a bad one, but there are more important things than me right now.

“That little boy waited in line forever. He wants to play here when he grows up. He plays every position, and his mom made him get out of line before anyone signed his ball.” I wave my hands in frustration. “Do something. Please.”

Without further pleading, Skylar hops gracefully over the rope and stops Gabriel and his mom before they’re out of sight. I step out of line to follow, breathing a sigh of relief when I see Skylar wiping away Gabriel’s tears. When he signs his ball and then hands over his jacket, I almost have some tears of my own.

Gabriel laughs, showing off his new jacket to his brother, who high-fives him.

Surrounded by all of this, by the significance of it and my newfound understanding of how important something we call a game can be, I am humbled.

“That was very sweet of you,” I tell Skylar as he makes his way to me.

“You come all this way to make sure everyone got their ball signed?”

I nod. “Yep. And my work here is done so…” I’ve only turned half way around when Skylar wraps me in his arms.

“It’s good to see you, Red. So fucking good.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I whisper against his warm skin. “It’s good to see you too, soccer boy.”

“S
o what’d you say to Gabriel?” Corin asks before explaining what she’s doing here.

I finish off my bottle of water as we make our way to my car. “That he didn’t need to play every position because Goalie is the only one that really matters. And we run the least.”

Corin laughs and I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s here. She’s really here but my mind still wonders if I’m dreaming.

“So besides making friends in the autograph line, care to tell me what you’re doing in Brazil?” It’s a long ass flight for her to have come all this way. And I didn’t even play—which I told her I wouldn’t. Surely there’s a reason for her surprise trip. Not that I’m complaining, just curious as hell.

“Just checking out the scenery,” she says eying me appreciatively.

This is new, the way she’s looking at me like she wants to swallow me whole. I am fully on board with this.

“See anything you like?”

“A few things,” she says casually.

“That right?”

“Mmhm,” is all I get back.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, so I’ve heard. Apparently it makes Corin grow hornier.

“You hungry? There’s a decent restaurant near my place.”

Corin takes a deep breath. “I actually ate at the game, but maybe we could grab lunch tomorrow if you’re not busy. I was hoping I could maybe crash at your place. I didn’t exactly book a hotel room.”

Grabbing lunch doesn’t sound all that intimate. My ego recoils from the hit. But at least she’s sleeping over so that has to mean something. I open the door for her and she whistles low at the sleek black Audi R8 GT.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a rental. A company that works with the team lets us rent them when we’re in town. We’re on the road too much to need a car year-round. But it’s a nice perk.”

“I’ll say,” she says, lowering her delectable body onto the lush leather seat. “Any other perks I should know about?”

I climb into the driver’s side and start the engine.

“I’m serious. Perks? Any others besides cool cars?” Her raised eyebrows indicate she expects an answer.

“A few. Why?”

Corin bites the inside of her cheek for a split second. “So are you or are you not surrounded by Brazilian models all hours of the night and day?”

I let out a low laugh. Jealous Corin is extremely sexy.

“Well I have practice. And workouts. And media events. And games. So not
all hours.
”

She slugs me hard in the arm. “I’m serious, Sky. I came here to see you and so we could talk about things. But if you’re seeing someone or just loving the bachelor pro-athlete life, then that’s cool. You’re young and attractive and I’m sure you have plenty of options in that department.”

“Corin…” I focus on my breathing because damn this woman to hell. “I have told you repeatedly in no uncertain terms how I feel about you. Despite your constant rebuffing of my attempts, I meant what I said. My feelings for you aren’t geographical.”