Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
He straightened and met her challenge. The penetrating focus of his blue eyes made her heart skip. An interest that intense had to mean something, but the haunting sadness, dimming the smile her mother had thought beautiful, shattered Gracie’s fleeting hope his interest was a positive development.
What had she been thinking? That he’d jeopardize his perfect family over a stranger who happened to share his DNA? When would she learn? Happily ever after was a myth, a foolish piece of fiction perpetuated by dreamers who spun tales into books and movies. In real life, parents walked away or they died. Cancer and disease decimated lives and true love didn’t exist.
She turned away, freezing when strong fingers gripped her arm in a gentle hold. She lifted her gaze to his.
“I’m here because to my utter surprise and joy I have a daughter.”
She blinked against the sudden sting of tears, afraid to believe what his simple statement inferred.
He lifted the palm of his free hand to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry, Gracie. I let your mother down twenty-six years ago by not facing her with questions I had at the time. I won’t do the same now, with you.”
A sob fought to escape. She choked it back. “What do you want to know?”
His smile softened and determination replaced the sadness in his eyes. “Everything. I want to know everything. I want to know about your first steps and the first tooth you lost. I want to hear about the first time you rode a bike. I want to know about how your mother died and how and why you became knowledgeable about the game I love. But those questions have waited this long. They can wait a bit longer.”
Unsure why he didn’t consider now a good time for the answers they
both
wanted, she didn’t know how to respond.
He dropped his hand from her face. “I know I haven’t earned your trust, and you have no reason to believe I ever will, but will you trust me now?”
Trust him? With what? “I don’t understand.”
He dipped his head to meet her gaze more directly. “I know you don’t, but you will. Come with me? No questions asked.” When she didn’t immediately agree, he squeezed her arm. “Please? It’s important.”
Curiosity at what could possibly be so important she go with him at such a momentous moment tangled with an all-consuming hope for a future that would include him in her life. Almost giddy at the possibilities, she nodded and couldn’t help the smile when he didn’t waste a moment rushing her through the house and out the door.
“This is
such
a bad idea.”
Tom squeezed Gracie’s fingers at the complaint she’d repeated several times since he swung his SUV into the entrance to The Marauders’ Sports Complex. He lifted her hand to link her arm with his. Ignoring her dragging feet, he tugged her along when she would’ve remained outside the unmarked gray metal door leading to the bowels of the sold-out stadium.
The roar of fifty thousand cheering fans swelled up and made him raise his voice to a near shout. “You agreed to trust me.”
She bristled at his side as he led her down a long, empty hallway. “That was before I knew you were insane.” She attempted to pull free of his grip.
He held her firm.
“Haven’t you seen the papers the last few days? The stories have hardly been flattering to you, which is exactly the reason I never contacted you in first place. The members of the press are hateful in their never-ending quest for a juicy story. If they catch us together, they’re going to go berserk!”
She ground her teeth together when he chuckled and punched his way through a set of double doors. Another long hallway awaited them.
He twisted his wrist to check his watch then hurried his steps. “Don’t worry about the press. By the end of the day, they’ll be singing a different tune entirely.”
Unease tickled her spine. “Why? What have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything.” He veered sharply to the right, through another door. “Yet.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. Hadn’t the free-for-all at The Met been enough? She opened her mouth to demand he tell her what was going on and blinked instead. Her head swiveled back and forth as he dragged her through what was clearly the Marauders’ empty locker room. She gawked at the benches and equipment bins, the enormous water cooler in one corner and the rows of lockers. Her gaze snagged and her head swiveled back over her shoulder as they passed a locker with MALONE marked in big, block letters.
The metal bar of a door clanked and the locker room disappeared as Tom swept her out of the Marauders’ inner sanctum and toward an elevator on the other side of yet another hallway.
She dug in her high-heeled boots, refusing to take another step. “What’s going on, Mr. Walden?”
His name on her lips stopped him cold and he turned back. His mouth formed a guilty grimace. “I guess asking you to call me Dad would be pushing things, wouldn’t it?”
Her heart staggered under the direct hit.
Call him Dad?
The many happy fantasies she imagined concerning him throughout the years shimmered through her mind like radiant jewels. God, did he realize how many times she’d called him Dad in her dreams? Did he suspect he was the reason she’d learned all there was to know about football? Was that why he made the comment?
She squinted suspiciously. Like Jake, Tom Walden was a professional competitor. Until she knew what he was up to, she couldn’t afford to let him manipulate her. If manipulation was his game.
Please, don’t let manipulation be your game.
Not sure how to respond, she said nothing.
He sighed and, though she studied him for signs of deceit, she simply couldn’t find any. In fact, his eyes darkened with insecurity when he reached for her other hand.
His voice deepened with hesitation. “Mr. Walden sounds too formal. You don’t know me yet, and that’s my fault, but I hope, in time, to build a relationship with my daughter. A relationship much warmer than that of polite strangers.” He squeezed her hand before clearing his throat of the hint of moisture shimmering in his eyes. “How about you call me Tom?”
Speaking around the lump in her throat proved difficult. Her eyes flooded with unshed tears. “I think I’d like that. All of that.”
He smiled and surprised her by bending to brush her cheek with a quick kiss. Dizzy with pleasure, she staggered along beside him into the elevator. Bright lights and noise greeted them when the doors opened again and they stepped into a private skybox overlooking the field. Max, Mary and the twins turned where they were seated on a long couch before the wall of glass.
“Auntie Gracie!” The girls squealed their dual greeting.
Angel’s brow puckered in grievance. “Where have you been?”
Max arched a brow. “Yeah. Where have you been?”
Charlie scrambled around on her knees to face her. “Jake didn’t know where you were. He was really mad.”
Angel nodded. “He said bad words. Then he said he’d need to take out a loan because of all the money he had to put in the swear jar.”
Max laughed and guilt tugged at Gracie’s gut. Tom came to her rescue even as he released her hand and picked up a house phone. “Gracie had some things she had to attend to.” He punched in several numbers. As he waited for someone to answer his call, he met Max’s gaze and bumped his chin toward the glass overlooking the field. “How’s he doing?”
Assuming Tom meant Jake, Gracie’s gaze swung to the scoreboard. The score was tied.
Max grunted. “He’s not himself today.” He shot Gracie a raised brow.
Gracie crossed her arms and notched up her chin. She already carried enough guilt and refused to take the blame for Jake’s off day.
“He only needs one more catch to get the record,” Charlie announced.
“But he didn’t eat his meatloaf last night.” Angel spoke matter-of-factly, as if there was no doubt in her mind where the blame lay if he failed in his quest today.
Mary’s lips thinned and she tsked. “He claimed he wasn’t hungry. Imagine, a man of his size not eating his meatloaf when he has such an important game ahead of him the following day.” She shook her head and the pointed stare aimed at Gracie said clearly where she laid the blame.
“Tell Jake she’s here.” Tom spoke the words into the phone and hung up.
She narrowed her eyes, but he turned away to study the field below. She followed his gaze and searched the Marauders’ side of the field, but spotting Jake among the many uniformed men was impossible until he left the sideline several moments later and sprinted toward the line of scrimmage at the fifty-yard line. “Wait a minute. What’s going on, Tom?”
“He’ll do better now. I guarantee it.” He spoke without taking his eyes from the action below.
Gracie’s questioning gaze flicked to Max. He shrugged. His smile resembled that of the Cheshire Cat, but he didn’t say a word.
She looked down at the field. No matter what else had happened, she loved Jake. She knew how much the record meant to him and prayed with every fiber of her being he achieved his goal. Like a runner waiting for the gun, he set his feet, one in front of the other, dipped his knees, and leaned forward. He turned his head, and a quiet gasp hissed through her teeth as, for a brief moment, he looked straight up at the skybox.
Her nerves stretched taught as he looked away and resettled into his crouch, still and ready on the far side of the field.
On the quarterback’s count, Jake shot from the line. His big body raced downfield before making a quick pivot toward the Marauders bench. In a perfect spiral, the ball sailed high and long over the heads of both Jake and the defensive player shadowing him like a second skin. Gracie held her breath. Impossibly, as if his legs were part sinew and muscle, part spring, Jake leapt high with his long arms extended. Soft as a feather, the ball dropped to settle in his gloved hands. The crowd roared when he landed with both feet tight-roping the out of bounds line.
Max and Tom charged the skybox’s glass, shouting encouragement as the twins scrambled from the couch to press their noses to the pane with Mary right behind them. Gracie’s nails dug into her palms and she held her breath, willing Jake to remain on his feet.
Though a half dozen defensive players pursued him, momentum dispensed with the one obstacle between Jake and the goal line. He stutter-stepped and spun in complete circle and the lone defensive player stumbled out of bounds. The crowd cringed along with Gracie, Tom, and Max, as Jake tiptoed one yard, then two, and a third until he finally found his balance again.
“Way to go, Tuck!” Tom shouted as Tuck appeared out of nowhere to take down a potential tackle, but his extra effort wouldn’t have changed the outcome. Like a perfect athletic machine, Jake charged down the sideline to the frenzied cheering of the crowd. The Marauders’ loyal fans nearly broke the sound barrier as his long legs ate up the remaining fifteen yards.
Elation pulsed in her heart as Jake claimed his place in the record book, violently spiking the ball in the end zone. Tears of joy flooded her eyes and helpless laughter gurgled in her throat when he turned to face the crowd with his arms raised and a victorious roar. He was quickly swallowed him up in a circle of his teammates, helmets crashing and bodies thumping in celebration.
The twins’ wild squeals competed with Max’s triumphant shout as he scooped them up and spun them in a dizzying circle. Tugged into their victory dance, a beaming grin lit up Mary’s face. Tom turned from the glass. Sheer pride and joy radiated from his sparkling blue eyes. He stepped forward and swept Gracie into his arms. “He did it. The son of a bitch did it!”
“Language.” Wrapped in Max’s group hug, Mary, Angel, and Charlie spoke the laughing warning simultaneously. Max shot Gracie a grin and threw back his head on a hardy laugh.
She grinned at her father. “Be careful. You’ll end up with a swear jar.”
His smile softened and he winked. “I’m counting on having one sitting right next to Jake’s.” He turned away to glance at the scoreboard.
She followed his gaze. Three seconds until halftime. Her elation over Jake’s accomplishment dampened under the subtle sadness permeating her heart. Tom was Jake’s best friend. With Jake living there permanently, of course he’d be spending time at the farm. Life was one irony after another, but the joke was on her. Jake would not only be living her dream, he’d be sharing it with her father.
The horn sounded, bringing the first half of the game to a close. Gracie glanced at the Jumbotron mounted high on the far wall of the stadium as the teams jogged from the field. The screen filled with the replay of Jake’s catch and touchdown as the announcers sung his praises. Tom slid his arm over her shoulders.
She turned her head to study him. “Is that what you meant earlier about the press singing a different tune? That they’d be blinded by his breaking the record and forget about the other stuff?”
“Nope.” He grinned and bumped his chin toward the opposite side of the field. “Watch.”
Confused, she slid her gaze to Max. He grinned and shrugged. Frustrated at being left out of the joke, she turned back as Jake’s image filled the screen. Sweaty and gorgeous, he held his helmet tucked beneath one arm. The joy she expected to see on his face was absent, however. She dismayed at the solemnness in his eyes. Tom gave her shoulder a squeeze as the on-field reporter stuck the microphone in Jake’s face.
“Congratulations on breaking the record. Though you’ve had a terrific season on the field, you’ve had to deal with some bad press personally, including your involvement in that mess at The Met on Thursday. How important was breaking a sixty-year touchdown record to your image and your career?”
The smile curving Jake’s lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, Bob, since everyone is more interested in my personal life than in hearing how lucky I am to play with such an incredible group of players, I’m going to help you out with that.”
“How so?”
“You mentioned the mess at The Met, but the only mess I witnessed on Thursday night, besides a certain member of the press crossing a line she shouldn’t, was my not standing firmly behind a woman who has spent her life protecting the father who didn’t know she existed. I’m talking about Gracie Gable. The woman I love.”