Dirty Player: A Rough Riders Novel (32 page)

When we were seated, his frustration seemed to evaporate while we sat around and ate. His parents were kind and quick to laugh. Sean was boisterous and had no problems criticizing Oliver’s playing to which, shockingly, Oliver took with a quick nod and “yes, sir” even while I knew he was trying not to roll his eyes. In front of me, he seemed to change from superstar, cocky football player to respectful Southern son in the blink of an eye.

Both sides of him had me squirming in my seat. Was there anything he did that didn’t make him sexier to me?

I doubted it.

Grace, on the other hand, was quiet with a serene presence. She added in her two cents in a way where you wanted to lean in and listen more closely. Soft-spoken and mild-mannered, she held a wisdom in her eyes that made you respect her instantly, and at the same time want to sit next to her with a cool glass of lemonade and just
be.

I was in love with the entire family by the time breakfast was done.

“I need to get to the stadium,” Oliver said, kissing me on the cheek after he’d had our bill charged to his room. His parents had excused themselves for the restroom and we were alone at our table. “You sure you and Melissa are okay getting there on your own? I can have a driver pick you up.”

I shook my head. He’d already asked and offered, but Melissa and I wanted to enter the stadium like regular fans. There was always something about the excitement in the air, the hope of victory, and the spark of a new season that made the first home game different from any others.

It’d be a pain in the ass, but worth the experience.

The driver he’d ordered for his parents was going to be there any moment. They would go to the game and enter the stadium through the family and players’ entrance so they didn’t have to deal with the crowds.

“We’ll be fine,” I said, stressing each syllable. “Don’t worry about us, I swear. We’ll be in the box before kickoff and I’ll cheer for you and Beaux every play.”

His lips pulled tight and he frowned. His gaze flickered to his dad’s empty chair before returning to mine and he dropped his voice. “Do me a favor? Make sure Dad doesn’t get too excited. He looks worse today than he did last time I saw him.”

“Okay.”

“I’m probably being stupid,” he said, still whispering. “I just don’t have a good feeling about today. Or the game. Or something.”

I pressed my hands to his cheeks. “It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. You’ll win, and it’s probably just nerves.”

A line deepened between his brows before he nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“I love you,” I whispered, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. “Go kick some ass. Score some touchdowns. All that good stuff.”

He laughed softly before he deepened the closed-mouth kiss. “Be good.”

“I will,” I promised and pulled back. “I love you. And tell Beaux I said good luck, too.”

I’d already texted my brother, and he’d responded, but it wasn’t often I didn’t see him before a game I attended. Usually, he was the one driving me.

“Will do. Love you, too.” He pushed back from his chair before leaning over me, kissing me again like he couldn’t leave without the taste of me on his lips.

“Go Rough Riders!” I cheered, pumping my fist in the air. 

A few people turned and looked our way but most didn’t hear me. So when Oliver leaned back down and playfully growled, “I’ll show you a rough ride later,” I was thankful no one saw the blush that stained my cheeks when he tugged a lock of my hair before he walked away from me.

***

“I can’t believe this game is so close,” Melissa said, sitting next to me on the chairs just outside the box. Sean and Grace were inside getting more food, because I’d learned that while Grace was soft-spoken and kind earlier, she also really liked to take care of her husband. Making sure he kept his plate and drink filled during the game seemed like her duty.

“I know.” My fingernails had been in between my teeth all game. Two of them were completely gone already. The crowd was insanely loud, and more than once I’d wished we were down at the fifty-yard line, cheering from my usual seats. There was something different about being up so high, in your own little box. It made me feel removed from the excitement and wonder of the game and the anticipation in the crowd.

I’d seen my face on the Jumbotron while sitting next to Sean and Grace after Oliver had made a great play, and twice when he’d dropped a pass.

It was halftime and we were only up by one field goal against the Denver Cavalry, a team we’d been projected to beat by double digits.

The Cavalry was doing an excellent job at shutting down the passing game, effectively leaving Kolby scoreless for the entire first half, which was keeping our scoring down.

“They’ll come back in the second half,” I said and stood up. I wanted another drink and some snacks. I needed something to help settle my stomach. I gestured toward Melissa. “Want another glass of wine?”

“You betcha,” she replied and raised her glass without taking her eyes off the field.

One of the things I loved most about Melissa was her love of sports like mine. I didn’t know if she’d learned it from me or had always been a football fan, but when we’d met in college, she started watching every game with me, often coming back to my high school to watch Beaux play. She’d been just as much of a big sister to him as I had since we’d met ten years before. 

I walked into the box suite and headed straight for the bottles of wine that had been staffed for us. Oliver had gone all out for our spread for the day. There were selections of all types of alcohol and a buffet that could feed thirty. There’d be way too many leftovers thrown away, but I appreciated he thought of everything we could possibly desire.

“You guys doing okay?” I asked Sean and Grace as I refilled our glasses. 

“Fine, darlin’,” Sean said, scooping a corn chip filled with chili dip into his mouth. 

We’d spent most of the first half of the game talking and cheering. I could tell he appreciated my knowledge of the game, and they’d both made it easy to talk to them. They were just as sweet and simple as Oliver had promised they’d be, and just like over breakfast, our conversations were easy.

I took a sip of wine.

Sean pressed his hand to his chest, grimacing. “You okay, Sean?”

“Fine, fine.” He cringed again but waved me off. “Chili’s spicy a bit, that’s all.”

Grace dug into her purse and muttered, “How many times do I need to remind you to take your medicine, Sean?” She looked at me and grinned before pulling heartburn medication out of her purse. “I tell ya, this man is as stubborn as his son. Every day he gets the burn, and every day he refuses to take the pill until he’s unbearable. Train my boy better than I trained my man to follow common sense, would you?”

I grinned into my glass of wine. “I’ll do my best.”

A cheer erupted on the field and I looked out to see the teams running back onto the field. 

“I should get these drinks to Melissa. You two coming out?”

“Soon, darlin’.” Sean coughed into his hand and flinched. “We’ll be there soon. As soon as this pill kicks in you won’t be able to stop me.”

“All right.” I patted him on the shoulder and went back to the game.

Soon, Sean and Grace joined us and the four of us nearly lost our voices while the game continued to be close. 

It was the third quarter, five minutes to go, and we were finally up by ten points, having scored another touchdown. Cavalry could pull off a win—or at least a tie—and they had the ball, moving it slowly but steadily down the field.

It was the third down, eight yards to go for them, and they were nearing field goal range when they threw the long pass they had to get.

The play unfolded perfectly. Cavalry’s quarterback dropped back to pass the ball, and as it flung into the air I was on my feet, holding my breath while it sailed through the air, thirty yards down the field.

Right as their wide receiver jumped to catch the ball, too far behind him even though he tried to double back, our safety appeared out of nowhere and snagged the ball into his hands.

“Hell yes!” Melissa shouted next to me. 

Smith, the safety, bobbled the ball once then twice before he got a firm grip on it and started running down the field.

We all jumped to our feet and shouted, cheering as Smith ran for fifteen yards, almost ending up at half field before he was tackled by Cavalry’s offense.

“Yes! We did it!” I shouted, turning to give Sean a high-five as I did. But he wasn’t there.

He was in his chair, his hand fisting his shirt, his lips twisted in pain.

“Sean?” I asked, dropping to my knees in the small space. 

Grace must have heard me because she turned, looking down at us.

“Sean!” she shouted, and he dragged listless eyes to hers.

“My chest,” he rasped, barely able to breathe, “hurts.”

His body began shaking and I stood paralyzed before I realized what was happening.

“Call nine-one-one!” I began screaming. “Call nine-one-one!” I flashed terrified, panicked eyes to Grace and realized hers matched mine. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”

“Fine,” he gasped again. 

Melissa’s hand wrapped around my shoulder. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Get him inside and lying down on his left side.”

She took off then, running toward a phone at the wall of the box suite for emergency uses.

“Come on,” I said to Grace. “Let’s get him inside.”

“He has to be okay,” she chanted repeatedly. “My Sean.”

His hand reached up and held hers, but I could tell it was taking everything in him. “Love you, honey. All the love in the world.”

“Stop it,” she hissed, and tears began falling down my cheeks. “You’ll be fine.”

We moved him inside, his weight difficult for us. When we had him on the floor, resting on his side, Grace dug into her purse again and popped out an aspirin. “Swallow this, Sean. Now.”

He did, working his throat like he was swallowing shards of glass, and I stepped back while they whispered to each other, things I couldn’t hear. 

It was minutes that felt like hours before the stadium’s paramedics rushed through the door. We could do nothing except stand there and watch. Waiting.

Hoping.

A loud cheer in the distance and the vibration of the stadium shaking with applause pulled my eyes to the field. “Oliver.” I snapped my head to Grace. “We have to tell Oliver.”

She shook her head. “After the game. We’ll get word to him.”

“Should I wait for him?”

“No. Come with us. He’ll meet us there. The driver will be quicker anyway.”

***

We were at the hospital sitting in waiting room seats much too uncomfortable for anyone scared out of their mind.

I’d spent much of the time pacing, unable to sit still while we waited for word from the doctor.

Grace and Melissa had sat down, Grace the epitome of calmness with hope in her eyes while she sat there, hands clasped together and stared out the windows. Melissa looked as scared as I was, and I didn’t know if it was because of what we had seen, or what we were afraid the result would be.

Damn it. Oliver had been right—Sean had looked too tired this morning. Too worn down. And the way Oliver had looked at me, so concerned about his dad and asking me to keep an eye on him, promising him I wouldn’t let his dad get too excited.

I’d failed him. I hadn’t listened. I’d trusted Sean and Grace when he’d waved off the earlier pains in his chest.

I couldn’t close my eyes, I couldn’t blink. Every time I did I saw Sean’s large frame, almost as tall as Oliver’s, lying there on the floor, motionless and pale as the paramedics worked him over before rushing him out to an ambulance.

It was a memory forever ingrained in my brain.

Movement coming from the double doors caught my attention and I whispered Grace’s name.

Two doctors hustled through the doors, stopping only at the nurses’ station before looking at us when she gestured in our direction.

“Sean Powell’s family?” one of the doctors asked.

“I’m his wife, Grace.” She stood and held out her hand, smiling as if she wasn’t terrified out of her mind. There was something in her eyes, something that hit me after I’d watched all of this play out. She had been calm. Too calm and it didn’t feel right. She was either a chunk of granite in the face of horror, or she knew something she hadn’t shared. “How is he?”

The doctor smiled, tugging down his mask so it bent beneath his chin. “Sean’s going to be fine, Mrs. Powell. But he shouldn’t have been traveling—not so soon after his last heart attack.”

I gasped. Heart attack? Oliver had never said anything.

He shot her a look full of recrimination, and she rolled back her shoulders. “You try telling that man not to be there for his son’s games.”

I choked on a laugh, equal parts shocked and amused at the tone she’d just taken with the doctor when he sighed. “He’s still sleeping, but we can show you back. You know what this means, though, right? Did your doctors in Savannah explain it?”