Thousand Yard Bride (25 page)

J
o
and I drove together to the stadium on the morning of the last game of the season.

It was a cold January day, but her hand was warm in mine. I was psyched that Jo would be at the game. ClimbTime had even reserved seats just behind the Krakens' bench. Their campaign, “Mountain Top Touchdown,” was off to a great start and they wanted to show Jo their appreciation, so she, along with a few ClimbTime execs, would be right there cheering me on.

Even Lanie had a seat, which made me feel better, since Jo was so far along in her pregnancy.

“You’ve got this," Jo said, hovering by the entrance to the stadium, like she didn't want me to actually leave.

Sweeping her into my arms, I dipped her—carefully—so I could trap her mouth with mine in a kiss meant for the movies. But this was reality. This was my everything.

Touching her cheek with mine, I breathed her in. I could have drowned in that scent. “Just as long as I’ve got you," I whispered.

The rest of the morning passed by in a flash. Coach went over the strategies with us, all of us bending a knee and praying to whatever we each believed in that we would win. As for me, I looked at a picture of the sonogram Jo gave me from her last doctor’s visit. It was a flimsy piece of black and white paper. It was worth more than every dollar on Earth.

Today, I felt invincible.

Crouching there, facing down the row of helmets in front of me, I tried to pretend the familiar colors weren't my team. This wasn't the Hawks—it couldn't be. Somewhere to the side, I caught a pair of filthy brown eyes that seethed laser-hot at me.

Benny.

The coin flip was in our favor. We chose to receive; I set up, moving to the end zone and waiting for kick-off to start. Sweat was already collecting under my padding. Holding still, being patient, these were challenges for me.

The kicker's leg shot forward, the ball flying upwards. A roar cascaded up from the crowd, but I heard none of it. Everything became white noise. My vision tunneled into a pinprick.

The air vibrated like a tornado was about to fall on all of us. I was a fucking bloodhound—the smell of the football haunted me, I knew I'd catch it even before it dropped into my waiting grasp.

Grass shredded under my cleats, reds and blues blinding me. There were so many bodies rushing my way. With the stampede of legs shaking the ground, shaking my lungs, I came to life. This was what I
fucking lived for.

I broke from the crowd, careening down the field. The goal posts rose in front of me—I had this. I was going to score and it would set the tone for the rest of the game. Lighter than a soap bubble I floated towards victory.

The hit came from my left; so violent it sent me spinning.
No!
I thought in a panic, watching helplessly as the ball fumbled from my fingertips. It was gone and away, escaping me just before I crashed into the ground like an off-course satellite.

Breathing heavy, I struggled under the weight of whoever had taken me down. Benny's groan hit my eardrum. "How's it feel to show your old team what a waste of air you are?" he laughed in his throat, no one hearing him but me.

Someone yanked him off of me. Hands groped for my arms, yanking me up, and while I expected my team mates . . . I saw it was Reese. Through the slots of his helmet, he gave Benny a severe glare. "Easy," he said, smiling through his teeth. "The game just started, brother. Don't get cocky."

"Whose side are you on?" Benny scoffed, starting to shove back my way. He didn't get far before a whistle blew, the ref declaring I'd lost the ball and that it belonged to the Hawks now. The crowd was screaming and hissing—I could have sworn I heard Jo call my name.

From there, it was downhill.

The Hawks were on fire, scoring again and again. Reese might have shown he was still my friend, but he wasn't going to give up the game for me. His throws soared further than ever, their defense shredding ours to pieces.

By the time half-time arrived, the energy around the Krakens was in the gutter. Yanking my helmet free, I followed everyone into the locker rooms. In my experience, my old coach would have slapped us silly for performing so terribly.

A room full of eyes turned towards me, making me freeze. Coach Smith said, "Listen, Daniels. This is your old team. You know them best." Pulling off his cap, he tucked his chin and stared up at me. "Tell us what we need to do to win."

I was stunned—flattered, even. Coach Bauer had never asked me for advice. These guys were watching me like I had all the answers, and maybe I did, but I didn't want them to feel that way. We were a fucking
team.
We won together, not because of anything I said.

Still . . . I stood taller, glancing at Josh. "We have to step it up,” I told him.

“I can’t throw as long as Reese, Hunter,” he argued, acting as if I had put him on the spot. In a way, I had. I knew the Hawks, and if my play was going to work, Josh would have to push himself to the limit.

“Yes, you can," I said seriously. "You have to. We have to get some distance, gotta run corner routes. They'll never catch me."

Hank gave Josh a light shove. "What did you say to me when everyone started calling me fucking ‘Slippery Hands Hank’? Huh?"

Grinning with only one side of his mouth, Josh laughed. "I said show them what you're made of."

"And I did. You can too." Leveling his stare on me, Hank said, "Hunter knows we can do this. Otherwise, he'd have never joined our team. Right?"

Guilt swam in my guts. I'd only joined because they were the only team that would take me, my only chance at playing with my dad ruining my career by cutting me from the Hawks. But . . . I
was
here, and we'd made it this far.

"Right." Looking over each of them, I shouldered my helmet. "We came to win. So let's get out there and fucking win!"

Coach clapped—loud and sharp—but he didn't give us time to enjoy the moment. He marched us back out on the field, leading us like a general into war.
This feels like a real battle,
I thought somberly.
One that we have to win.

The stadium cheered as we appeared. The low murmur that rolled through them, though, made it clear the mood was tense. If we won, the Krakens would play their first playoff game in years. They had a lot to prove. On top of that, it was personal.

I could feel my father’s presence in the stadium. I’m sure he was up there in his fancy box, lording over his territory, swilling his drink, being an asshole to my mom.

We were relegated to receiving again. But even with all my efforts, we kept getting countered. Play after play, and we'd only managed to tie things up.

If we didn't score big now . . . we were done for.

Coach called me and the rest of the special teams into a huddle. I’d never been on special teams before, but now that I was on the Krakens I was a kick returner since I was the fastest guy they had.

When I got in the huddle, I saw that Coach Smith was out of sorts, chewing gum hard and muttering in some unintelligible southern accent. Eventually he said, “Josh, what's the plan here?”

Our QB was supposed to be a leader. He was nothing like Reese, though—a guy who never struggled with guiding the Hawks. But maybe my pep-talk had clicked something into place for him, because now, he faced us all with his jaw in a square line. “They kick. Hunter gets the ball and runs it in. The rest of us make sure that happens. It’s our best bet. Otherwise, we risk losing this.”

“That’s an all or nothing play, Josh,” Coach said. “Hunter, think you can do it?”

“I’m fast, but it’s gotta be clear,” I said. “I got this.”

Holding up his fist, Josh bumped mine. “We can make that happen. Wish I could be out on the field with you for this, Hunter."

A lot of things had to go right for this play to work out. But Josh was right. We could win it right here. We could make history.

We’d be legends.

Strutting onto the field, I lifted my eyes and scanned the crowd. I knew where Jo was sitting; I didn't see her, but I didn't need to. Reaching into my back pocket, I brushed the sonogram photo.

Bending low, I squinted at the holder. The kicker was waiting, and I swore he was sizing me up. My heart skipped—had Reese realized what our play would be? I knew the Hawks, but he knew me. Had we fucked up?

Arching back his leg, he kicked the hell out of the ball, sending it spinning into the icy-blue sky. I focused. This was the single most important moment in my career. In the few split seconds that it took for the ball to travel, I told myself that if I caught this, it would have made the last few fucked up years of my life worth it.

Jo would see me.

My dad would see me.

The whole world would see the real Hunter Daniels . . . and on my terms.

I grabbed the ball out of the air just as I saw Benny running towards me. Reese had definitely figured out our play—and Benny was delighted to try and wreck it.

I had to do some fancy footwork to get out of his path. Amazingly, he caught up to me and even gained some distance ahead. I couldn't afford to change my path. Wind clawed at my lungs, the burning sensation driving me, spreading down to my core and my thighs until all I knew how to do was
run.

Just as I was rushing past Benny, he elbowed me in the chest. Our mouth-guards rattled together, elks battling for dominance in the middle of a forest. He wanted me to lose—more than he wanted to even win, I think. Why else risk an illegal move?

My ribs ached as I pushed on. The edges of my tongue tickled, tasting like copper; I'd bit it and hadn't realized. It didn't matter. Pain was nothing when balanced against proving my worth to the universe.

Hank blocked a guy coming at me fast from across the field. I made it to the twenty-yard line, the ten, and I felt a hand scrape the back of my leg trying to tackle me before I was there.

With a final surge of adrenaline pumping through my body, I tore into the end zone.

The stadium roared.

Throwing the ball down hard, I crowed to the heavens and laughed until I was sore. "I'm king of the world!" Jo would have loved that.

The crowd was still going wild. I could hear the cheering from the Krakens’ side of the stadium. People jumped up and down, hugging each other. My teammates rushed towards me, lifting me up on their shoulders.

Popping my helmet off, I sucked in clean air. The announcers were shouting, still amazed at what had just happened. The Krakens were going to the playoffs because of me.

Benny was hovering beside me, as if the yard line on the grass was a wall he couldn't pass through. There was hate in his eyes—but there was also exhaustion. Defeat.

Facing him, I held out my hand. He eyeballed it with unease. "Listen," I said. "Forget about Poppy. You deserve someone who won't use you just to try and get even. Life isn't about getting even."

My own words resonated with me, reminding me how hard I'd worked to prove myself to my father. How much time I'd wasted bothering with such a thing.

Benny's hand closed on mine. It was brief, but solid. "Good advice," he said. "Thanks."

The swarm of players surrounded me, cutting Benny and me apart. I wanted to high-five every single one of them. "You son of a bitch!" Josh cried, holding me in a headlock. "We did it! We won!"

"Exactly," I chuckled, struggling from his arms. "
We
won." His eyes glowed with pride.

As I crossed the field I waved to Reese. He came over to me, shaking my hand as cameras flashed around us. “You earned it, brother,” he said with a smile.

The sidelines were packed; I worked my way through them, enjoying the attention, but truthfully, there was only one person I wanted to see. That I
needed
to see.

“Hunter!” Jo screamed. I hadn't seen her coming, which was amazing, considering her size. People moved away, conscious of the super-pregnant woman as she threw her arms around my neck to kiss me. “That was amazing! I could barely sit still, I was losing my mind. Fuck, my heart is still going!" Her grin cracked on the edges, falling apart as she suddenly grasped her stomach and bent in two.

My ecstasy immediately vanished into the atmosphere. “What’s the matter, Jo? Are you okay?” I followed her eyes down to the ground. The grass was soaked, so was the front of her pants.

A nervous smile spread on her pale lips. “I think my water just broke.”

I whistled to one of the team medics. When he got in reach, I gripped his shoulders and shook him roughly. I couldn't help it—this was scarier than any fucking football game. “My wife is going into labor. We need to get her out of here.”

The medic nodded, motioning for the security guards. We formed a protective circle, helping Jo off the field as people looked on, always snapping their damn photos.

“You have to give a post-game interview, Hunter,” she insisted in my ear.

“Are you seriously still in P.R. mode, Jo? You’re crazy,” I said, kissing her forehead. "I'm staying with you. That's final."

Her eyes shined, all the blood gone from her face so that she looked like a porcelain doll. I wanted to be strong, but I hated how pale she was.

I'd never felt so afraid in all of my life.

M
y hands were shaking
as I hurriedly tied on the scrubs they insisted I put on. I almost told them no, to fuck off and let me into the room with my wife, but Lanie came out to tell me to chill out and just get the scrubs on.

When I got to Jo she was still pushing. Relief washed over me. I hadn't missed it.

I held her hand as Lanie coached her. "Push," she said, trying to get Jo to look at her.

"I am!" Jo groaned.

"Push like you're trying to beat me at the rock wall!"

"
I always beat you at the rock wall!"
she screamed, eyes scrunching up as her whole body tensed.

Lanie smiled at me, winking once. "Then this should be a cakewalk for you! Push! Push!"

Jo squeezed my hand in a vice grip; I held her back, linking our fingers as if someone might try and tear us apart. She was fighting through more pain than I ever had. Jo was stronger than anyone I'd ever met.

What felt like forever passed, and then I finally heard the doctor say, “Almost there.”

Jo sobbed, lying her head on my chest as she went limp. I inhaled, my heart lodging in my throat. I started to ask if she was alright. A tiny, earsplitting, perfect cry shut me up.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor announced.

I couldn't contain myself. I yelled, “A girl! Jo, a girl! We have a daughter! Can you believe it?”

Shaking her head, she wiped away the hair stuck to her sweaty cheek. "I've known that for months, so yeah. I can." Looking up at me through her lashes, she froze. “Hunter, are you crying?”

I didn't realize it, but I was. I let the wetness stain my cheeks as the nurse handed me the baby. I'd expected her to give her to Jo, but I think a secret look had passed between them, because here I was, holding the most beautiful being in the world.

"Am I doing it right?" I whispered.

Jo sat up, tracing her fingertips over our daughter's eyebrows. "Just like a football."

"Hardly," Lanie mumbled.

To my surprise, the baby grabbed my index finger tightly. I couldn't believe how strong she was. "She's got my grip."

Jo smiled at me, motioning for me to hand her the baby. I was reluctant—now that I had her, I didn't want to let her go. But seeing my wife cradling our daughter was a different kind of amazing.

A few minutes later, a nurse came to take the baby to run some tests. Jo’s eyelids fluttered shut, I stepped out to give her some time to rest. I was surprised to see my mother standing there in the waiting room. “Mom?”

She perked up at the sight of me, her hands bundling together at her chest. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Lanie called me when Jo went into labor. How is the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?”

Too dazed to consider not answering, I said, “Healthy and strong. It’s a girl.”

Her frail arms wrapped around me. Just like that, I pushed out my resentment. I didn't have the energy to be bitter with my mother.

“A girl! Oh, I’m so happy for you two,” she whispered.

“I take it Dad’s not here?” I asked.

She hesitated, stepping back so I could see her face. "I thought you should know, not to cast a shadow over your big day, but I’ve decided to be on my own for a bit. It’s for the best.”

“You're divorcing him?" I stood straighter, noticing just how easier she seemed to be breathing. Without my father around, she was happier already. "I’m proud of you, Mom. I know you’ll be fine.”

“I’m proud of you too, Hunter,” she said. Tears boiled up and out; she grabbed a tissue from her purse, mopping at her eyes. “Oh my, I’m a grandmother now, aren’t I?”

I hugged her again. “You sure are. Want to come meet baby Hannah?”

“Hannah?” she repeated.

“Hannah was Lanie’s mom. I haven't
officially
asked her yet if it's okay, but I've got a good hunch she'll love the idea.”

"Yes," she said softly. "I think that's very fitting."

A few minutes later we went back into Jo’s room. Mom took in a breath, and so did I; Jo looked perfect holding our perfect girl. She studied me, then my mother. Our body language must have announced that we'd mended our hearts. Smiling, she held the baby up. “Want to hold her, Victoria?” she asked.

"Please," my mother said, scooping the little girl up carefully. "Hello, Hannah."

Jo stiffened in the bed. "Hannah?" Eyeing me, she dug her fingers in the sheets. My nerves went wild; had I gone too far?

"Jo—" I began.

She cut me off, her voice steady. "How did you read my mind, Hunter?"

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, I embraced her while she clung to me with all she had left. My mother handed Hannah back, letting the three of us be alone. I think she was trying to be helpful, thinking we'd want the time.

Don't get me wrong. I definitely did.

But it wasn't like it would be a rare moment.

Our little family was going to be together forever.

None of the football games I'd played had really mattered. None of the trophies or the cheers or the piles of money and sponsorships. But being here with my wife and our baby . . .

This
was what it meant to really win.