Down & Dirty (Lightning 1)

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as I bury my head in her neck and sob. “I’m so sorry, my love. So, so sorry.”

I don’t answer, I can’t. I’m sinking fast, breaking not in half as I feared but into a million tiny pieces. My nightmare come true.

But Emerson holds on anyway, holds on so tight that it doesn’t even matter if I fall apart because she’s holding me together.

I cry. I cry and cry and cry.

For Heather.

For her kids who will grow up without a mother.

And for myself, who has to spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m missing a limb.

Emerson holds me through it all, her small body strong and powerful and perfect as she pulls me close. As she holds me tight. As she lets me fall apart and somehow finds a way to put me back together again.

I don’t know how long we stand there wrapped around each other—wrapped up in each other.

Long enough for the wind to roll in off the water.

More than long enough for the ocean to start licking at our ankles.

And still Emerson doesn’t move. Still she holds me tight.

And that’s when I know. Not that I love her, too, because I think that knowledge has been there since I pushed her away. But that this is real. And lasting. And isn’t going anywhere.

Besides, what man in his right mind would turn down a woman who loves him enough to face her deepest fear for him?

Maybe idiots like that exist in this world, but I’m not one of the

m.

When the tears finally abate, when I can finally breathe without broken glass slicing through my chest—at least for now—I lift her out of the water. Wrap her glorious legs around my waist. And tell her what’s been burning inside of me almost from the moment I soaked her with that very well-placed puddle.

“I’m crazy about you,” I tell her even as she uses her thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “I know you probably think I’m a bad risk, with my reputation and with how fucked up I am over Heather’s death. But I love you, too.

“Losing Heather isn’t easy. I’m not going to lie about that. I’m going to have good days and bad days and fucking miserable days. I know that and I know you know that. But I’ve spent the last week trying to hold shit together, scared to see you because I know you see through me. I just didn’t realize that was a good thing.”

Her big blue eyes shimmer with tears. “Oh, baby—”

I stop her with a finger to her lips, then lean forward and kiss the tears away. “But I do now. And I know we haven’t known each other long and I know I’ve been a total dick for at least half the time we have known each other, but you ground me. You quiet all the shit in my head and all the shit outside of it. You make it easy for me to breathe in a way nothing—not even football—ever has.”

She’s crying full on now, and I pull her to me this time. Wrap myself around her. Then lean forward and whisper, “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to stop crying.”

She gets it—of course she does—and she starts to laugh as the tears dry up. We’ve come full circle, Emerson and I, and as she says, “I’ll take it,” I know everything is going to be okay. It won’t be easy, but with her next to me, it will be okay.

And right now, that’s more than enough.

Epilogue

“Remind me again why I agreed to marry you?” Emerson asks as she starts unpacking yet another box of football memorabilia.

“Because you love me,” I answer, skimming one of my hands over her truly spectacular ass. She shoots me a dirty look, but I just grin. If she wants me to keep my hands to myself, she probably shouldn’t bend over right in front of me in those tight little shorts. It gives me all kinds of ideas and none of them have anything to do with unpacking the boxes in our new home. “And because I’ve introduced you to the entire starting lineup of the San Diego Lightning.”

“There is that,” she agrees as she pulls newspaper out of the top of the box. “Oh my God! Is this what I think it is?”

“I don’t know. What is it?” I put down the box I just picked up and lean over her shoulder to take a look. “Oh, there it is.”

“There it is?” Her voice is little more than a squeak. “There it is? That implies you lost it at some point and I know you didn’t lose it. Because…do you know what this is?”