Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) (37 page)

I can do this. I can face tomorrow and I will be okay. Because I’m not alone. Not really.

Feeling a presence that I haven’t felt in a long time, I turn around and start to make my way back toward the stairs. The after affects of crying my eyes out leave my lids heavy and my vision a little blurry. That’s why I don’t see the figure watching me until I am right up on him. Standing a few feet in front of me, bare-footed with khaki shorts and a t-shirt that shows off every muscle of his broad chest and those killer arms I’m so fond of, is the main source of all my heartache. Feeling my throat dry up, I realize that presence I felt just moments ago hasn’t left me.

“Hi.” Logan’s low, breathy voice floats faintly in the breeze.

“Hi.”

His left hand starts to pull out of his shorts pocket, but he stops himself, his chest falling slowly as if he’s trying to regulate his own breathing. I reach up to pull my wind-blown hair behind my ear, my eyes trying to penetrate those aviators his beautiful eyes are hiding behind.

“You’re a hard person to find.”

“I didn’t know I needed to be found.” My voice comes out broken and hoarse, giving my recent cry-fest away like a white flag waving in the wind. “How did you find me anyway?”

“You gave Mac your Find my iPhone login. Something about Walt not being able to work an iPhone, let alone figure out how to find one.”

The reminder of the old man’s insistence on me giving Mac the information brings a small smile to my face. For the first time since his death, I feel like Walt might truly be watching over me.

A particularly wild tide crashes around our knees, soaking the bottom half of my skirt and sending a chilly spray over my bare arms. Turning away from it, I rub my hands over my goosebumps and move away from the waterline.

I sense him following me, his stare daring me to turn back toward him. I know what I should be doing and saying, an escape route building itself in the back of my mind, but my heart has me standing there like I’m rooted in cement.

“Why are you here, Logan?”

“I needed to see you. Make sure you’re okay.” Not sure if I really meet that description, but no need in speaking that out loud. “You haven’t been returning our calls.”

“I think we both know why I shouldn’t.”

His steady exhale blends with the whistling wind, stirring up every emotion inside me.

“Shouldn’t.” He doesn’t have to clarify. I should correct myself, remind him that there can’t ever be anything between us, but the words won’t form on my tongue.

“What do you want me to say, Logan?” I ask, setting my face in my best Logan-like impression and finally letting my eyes feast themselves on his beautiful face again.

He pulls off the shades, pain and frustration churning in those eyes that are ten times more magnificent than the waters behind him, and his jaw locks in fortitude. The urge to reach out and soften it for him hits my chest like a linebacker.

“I read the article, Allie. It was…”

Heartbreaking. At least for me it was.

“You can be honest. I’m still on vacation until tomorrow morning, so…” I shrug. I’m so raw that nothing he says could possibly do more damage.

He takes one step closer and it takes everything in me to stay put. Do I really want him this close to me? Yes, but no. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying my best to forget every touch, every sweet moment with him. Do I want one more? Sure, but at what cost?

“It was everything I needed it to be and everything I wish it wasn’t.”

Before I can process what he means, his hand reaches for me, his long fingers skimming my jaw and wrapping themselves around the base of my neck. No amount of reserve could keep me from leaning into his touch. My heart sinks and I know that no matter what happens now, it will be the end of me.

“Allie.” My name escapes his lips in nothing more than a whisper. His forehead meets mine and tears escape my closed eyes. Tender lips kiss them away before meeting my own. Another breeze sweeps up around us and before I can get my defense back to the line of scrimmage, my heart is calling a timeout and falling for Logan all over again.

My arms snake up around his neck at the same time his hands move to my waist, pulling me to him and deepening our kiss. His warm body instantly relaxes the rest of the tension I’ve been carrying around for so long the tighter he holds me.

When I can’t breathe any longer, I let the kiss dissipate, but tuck my head just under his chin. Knowing that this is the last time I’ll ever be able to allow myself this peace with Logan, I stand there and try not to think about what walking away from him will do to me. Because that’s what I have to do. If I want any hope for my future, that’s exactly what I have to do.

“I really don’t want to ruin this moment, but I have to know.” I feel Logan swallow and I know what he’s asking for without even finishing his thought.

“Yes. I do. But I can’t.”

Another swallow. It’s so weird to feel his jaw clench against the top of my head. 

“Because of the article.”

I slip out of his grip and wipe the tears that just won’t stop.

“Because of my job. Because of yours. Because of the life we lead, the game has to come first. The game—”

He shakes his head and sardonically laughs. Crossing his sculpted arms across his chest, he narrows his eyes and sighs. “Did you learn anything during our time together? God comes first. Then family. Then football. And call me selfish, but I want you to be a part of my family. I want—”

I stop him with a hand up. I just can’t handle it anymore.

“I…I can’t do this, Logan. I can get God coming first, I’m starting to realize that myself, but what you’re saying…you don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to take another step toward me, but I stop him with a firm hand to his chest.

“I’m damaged goods, Logan. I deserve this life I’ve created for myself. I don’t deserve to have someone like you love me.”

“You’re anything but damaged, Allie.”

My face is soaked, and of course in all the times I’ve cried over the last few weeks, this would be the epitome of an ugly cry. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“I do.” His knowing and accepting the one thing I’ve only ever told three people means there is nothing except our careers between us anymore.

“Then you know that my past will only tarnish everything that you work so hard to keep so perfect.”

He moves so quickly, within arm’s reach, and again I have no time to fully comprehend that he’s using his signature move to pull me to him. Those arms wrap around me, protecting me more so than any ball he’s ever carried.

“Your past means nothing to me. It’s your future that I’m concerned about. Let me be in it, Allie. Please.”

“I really want that, Logan. More than you could possibly know. But…” Feeling my resolve grow, I pull away and wipe my tears. Finding a strength I didn’t know I had, I wiggle out from his grip. “I just can’t.”

Without turning back around to even acknowledge his calling my name or say goodbye, I walk away, abandoning him once again.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Standing less than fifty yards away from the one person who won’t get out of my head is not just distracting. It’s perplexing and flustering and a whole lot of feelings that I don’t exactly know how to feel. The game hasn’t even started and I’ve had to pull my eyes away from the mass of plum colored jerseys, searching for the elusive number 86 at least three times now.

“Allie!” I turn to find Winston James, correspondent for FOX Sports news reach a hand out, his spotless white teeth beaming at me from his dark face. “Look at you, girl. Moving into the bright lights. Caught your segment on Providence’s physical therapy scandal this morning and couldn’t agree more with your prognosis. If I owned the Dragons, I’d scrap the whole PT staff, too. But what do we analysts know anyway.”

My first assignment back on the job was to get the scoop on the issues the Dragons were having with their free agents having a tougher time recovering from minor injuries. As it turns out, the physical therapy staff that Providence’s contracted players have exclusive access to were providing medication that hasn’t been cleared by the NPFL commissioner. Dallas Marder, the esteemed Dragons owner, is under review for allowing such practices on his team but agreed to speak to me for my first report as a morning anchor this morning. I’ve met Dallas face-to-face a handful of times and there isn’t a more honest and by-the-books man I know. I, along with the rest of the NPFL fanbase, have a hard time believing that he could have had an inkling that this was going on with his team.

“Thanks, Winston. I’m excited to be taking on the new role.” I try to give him a confident smile but his narrow eyes tell me he’s not buying the act.

“Listen, Allie. I heard about Walt. I’m so sorry.”

My smile falters, forcing me to choke back the lump that wants to spill out of my throat. “Thanks.”

Without intending to, my eyes seek the one person who truly consoles me. As if he can sense my need to draw strength from him, his eyes find mine, his face as stolid and expressionless as ever. Winston catches our contact and sighs a little.

“Can I ask you something? Completely off the record.” Winston’s words catch me off guard, pulling me from Logan’s focus.

“Um, sure.”

Winston takes a second to glance back to Logan and when he turns back to me, his eyes are searching, his sleuthing skills clear in his gaze. “The rumors…they aren’t true, are they?”

I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have to start answering this question, but no matter how many times I ran my PR-approved line through my head, it still sounded hollow to me. So instead of giving him the answer he’s clearly searching for, I just give him a smile and pat his arm.

“Thanks for your concern, Winston. I’ll see you around.”

I don’t look behind me to see if Winston is still standing there, however I can’t help but feel eyes on me everywhere. Eyes from the stands, from the sidelines, even from the field, all asking the one question I can’t confidently give the correct answer to. In need of some fresh air, I turn and make my way to the closest exit.

“You doing okay?” A concerned voice startles me, making me jump out of my skin.

“Oh my word, Mac! Don’t do that.”

He looks at me suspiciously. “Don’t do what, Allie?”

“Don’t sneak up on a girl like that when she’s in the zone.” I try to give him a playful smile, but it feels all wrong.

He crosses his arms and tilts his head accusingly at me. “I think the ‘zone’ you’re in is a bad one. I need you to stay away from him. The whispers have already started. Staring longingly at him like you have been isn’t helping any.”

Feeling the anger boil inside, I shake my head. “I’m not staring and you know it.”

He squeezes his toned arms tighter, clearly trying to keep his temper under control. After a second he relaxes and tries again.

“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look after you. We’ve both had to work so hard to fight to keep your reputation clean. You’ve made great progress, and I don’t want to see you lose all that progress over one game. If you don’t think you’re going to be able to handle it, tell me now and I’ll take it from here.”

As if someone finally flipped a switch, something occurs to me. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You don’t think I can handle being in the same arena as him, do you?”

He shakes his head, but refuses to look me in the eye. A clear sign of his guilt. “It’s not—”

“You’ve never come to a game I’ve covered before. We’ve known each other a long time, Mac, so you should know I don’t take kindly to sugar-coated criticism. If you have something to say, just get it out there already.”

He watches me carefully for a moment. After a moment his features soften ever so slightly. “I’m just worried about you, Al. I know he wanted to see you yesterday. I wasn’t sure how seeing him would—”

“There’s nothing to be worried about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a pre-game snack.”

I turn, and again don’t even care to see if he’s following me or not. I feel the call of gooey cheese sauce and over-salted chips calling my name, so I seek out the nearest vendor and order a bowl with just chips and cheese. The beef they normally offer here at the Spartan’s stadium is quite delicious and was one of Walt’s favorites, but I need some good ole’ traditional nachos to fill the void that aches for nothing more than the strong arms of a particularly gorgeous wide receiver.

“How are they?” A voice asks just as I take my first bite. The voice is vaguely familiar, but when I turn around I’m surprised to see Oliver standing behind me.

“They’re not bad.”

“But they’re not San Antonio’s nachos.” I give him a weird look, concerned how he knows about my obsession with any foods, let alone the amazing chili cheese nachos. He smiles kindly. “Logan told me about your impromptu birthday party.”

“I’m surprised he told you about that.”

Ollie smiles proudly to himself. “Logan tells me about a lot of things.”

For some reason, that sends a pang to my chest.

“He’s really torn up, you know.” I pick up a chip and stuff it in my mouth to keep from telling him I am too. “Like if he doesn’t get his head in the game, he’s going to hurt himself.”

Fear takes a firm hold on my heart, making me choke on my bite.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been pushing himself to extremes I’ve never seen of him before. It’s like he thinks he can bench press you out of his heart if he just adds 100 pounds to his bar. So far, his body is taking the beating like a champ, but I know its only a matter of time…”

The nachos feel like bricks in my stomach, effectively clearing my appetite.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

Ollie pays the guy for his own order of nachos and turns back to me, shaking his head. “There isn’t anything you could say that you haven’t already. He’s just going to have to learn to live without you.” He shrugs as if simply saying it makes turning our feelings off easy. His nonchalance about what we both apparently are going through makes me want to punch Ollie in the face.

I really need to reign in my manners because for the third time tonight, I leave a conversation without so much as an amicable goodbye.

***

With every collision of helmets that Logan meets, my insides churn a little more. I’ve never been a nail biter, but the manicure I had early this morning is long since destroyed as Logan takes his fourth tackle. Ollie’s words bounce around in my brain like the gray matter is a trampoline, causing my heart rate to skyrocket. A time out is called and I take an involuntary deep breath and turn away from the field to shake off my nerves.

“You need to pull it together, Allie.” I warn myself. I didn’t realize I’d said it loud enough for anyone to hear until Mac sidles up beside me, those arms crossed and a sullen look pushing his brows down.

“If you don’t wipe that fretful look off your face before they take the field, I’m pulling you.”

“I’ve got this, Mac.” I shake my hands at my sides, and he narrows his eyes.

“Take a walk. Now.”

“I’ll miss the game—”

“Now.”

Angrily, I slap my notebook in his arms and storm off the sidelines fighting to keep my cool. The air conditioning in the lower level concourse hits the back of my neck and I feel myself immediately calm down. Goosebumps prickle my arm as a rushing sensation hits me and I hear the whistle blown to signal the end of the time-out.

“Please keep him safe. Please.” I pray quietly, pacing next to the field entrance a couple of times. Peace overcomes me as I roll my neck a couple of times and prepare myself to take up my post on the sidelines. Just as I’m taking the first steps back onto the field, the roaring crowd above me heightens before getting eerily quiet. The loose hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge as a dreadful feeling takes residence in the pit of my stomach. The closer I get to the field, the more I know it’s him. The second the huddle of players, refs and coaching staff comes into view my breath catches. Glancing at the players standing around the group, I don’t see his number and without really having confirmation, I know it’s Logan lying in the middle of the huddle.

“Allie. You need to go—” Mac catches my arms, trying to hold me back, but as if on auto-pilot, I struggle to fight my way on the field.

“It’s him, isn’t it? I need to—”

“No you don’t. You can’t be on the field, you know that. Just go back into the breezeway and wait for—”

The stretcher cart makes its way onto the field and air gets stuck in my lungs.

“I have to go to him. Mac, let go—”

Mac stoops in front of me, locking his dark eyes on mine. “Allie, you can’t go to him right now. You’ll lose everything.”

While my insides feel like they’re swirling around fighting for space, my head becomes perfectly clear.

“No, Mac. If I lose him, I’ll lose everything.”

I whirl around so quickly that I think Mac stumbles. Jogging back to the concourse, I break into a dead sprint the second my feet hit the concrete walkway. My lungs welcome the push as I bob and weave around the eyes that have stopped to watch the crazy lady running as if her life depended on it. The second the locker rooms come into view, I slow and watch as Ollie and team usher Logan and the paramedic team inside.

“Ollie.”

He turns and almost sighs in frustration when he sees me, but he hurries to meet me halfway anyway.

“This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. You’ve already done enough, Allie. You should probably—”

“I need to see him, Ollie. Please.” Even I can hear the desperation in my voice.

“I don’t think that’s best right now. He’s going to need—”

“Please, Oliver. I need to tell him the truth.”

Ollie stops, his face going blank. “What truth?”

“I was so afraid. Afraid that he will just leave me like they all have, but then I left him and I’ve been so cluele—”

“Okay. Okay. Calm down, just breathe.” He rests a hand on my shoulder and I fight the urge to shrug him off and barge past him to find Logan. “Focus, Allie. I can’t let you in there right now. Let us take care of him and I’ll come get you just as soon as I can, okay?”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, trying to convince me to stay here. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll really let me see Logan, but something inside tells me I just need to trust him and have a little faith that everything will be okay. So I nod.

“I’ll be back for you just as soon as I can. Just be patient.” He lets go of me and starts running toward the room, leaving me to find support on nothing but the walls.

***

It seems to take forever before the last of the Rattlers staff exits the room. I could be paranoid, but I feel their stares on me as they make their way back onto the field. However, unless they’re going to give me some kind of update on Logan, I refuse to let their opinion of us get to me. Finally, after what feels like hours later, the door opens and Ollie’s head pops out. He glances in all directions before he waves me into the room. I wipe away the last of the tears as we weave around benches and gym bags, but my focus is far from the mess the boys left the room in. The second we turn the corner, I can’t help the gasp.

Logan lies propped up by his pads and a couple of blankets. His shoe has been removed from his right foot and a bag of ice is taped around it and his ankle. His chest heaves as he takes in deep, unsteady breaths. Judging by his tightly closed eyes, I’d say he’s fighting through some pretty excruciating pain.

“Ollie, will you grab the Aleve out of my bag. I think I will take that—”

“Sure, but I think we’ve got something much stronger here to help.”

Logan’s dark head pops up off the blanket it was propped on, his beautiful eyes wide when his sight lands on me. My chest nearly caves in as I watch him try to adjust and see the pain sear through this body.

“Don’t move. You heard the doctor,” Ollie warns, sending a secondary message with this eyes. But Logan doesn’t catch it because he can’t tear his gaze away from mine.