Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

“So what now? Football? Greatness? World domination?”

“I guess so.”

“What do you want, Romeo? What do you desire most from life?” She pushed, nodding her head encouragingly.

There was only one thing keeping me sane, so without thinking, I responded, “You.”

Eyebrows drawn, she shook her head and said, “No, really, baby, what do you want? It’s there for you to take.”

I was unmoved. “Just you, baby. You feel like home to me.”

Moving above me once again, she assured, “You have me. All of me, for as long as you want.”

“Really? I’ve got you forever? Because I pretty much just cut myself off from the only family I have.”

“Romeo, you’re my family. You’re it. You and my crazy friends are my entire reason for being. How can you not know that?”

I let out a pent-up breath. “Because I can’t believe it’s true.”

“It’s you and me, Romeo.”

And it was. Some folks may think the way we were with each other was unhealthy, but what they didn’t know was that it was Mol that had stopped me from going over the edge so many times. She diffused my anger, helped me focus on the good. She was my good, and I shouldn’t have to explain that shit to anyone.

Molly leaned in for a kiss after all the talking was done, and that kiss turned from innocent to a whole load of not. I pressed myself between her legs and just like that, I wanted her again.

“Romeo,” Molly moaned immediately—and that was us, for the rest of the night, giving each other what we needed and then sleeping in each other’s arms. Or at least she slept. I just worried about what the future held as I gripped on tight.

Turned out the next few months would be some of the happiest of my life. I heard nothing from my parents, Shelly stayed well away from both of us, and the Tide sailed through the football season undefeated.

The closer my girl and I got, the more I worried about the future. She wanted to be a professor and could move away to complete her PhD. By entering the NFL draft, I could be sent anywhere in the US, and it played on my mind all the damn time. Molly told me to relax, have fun, and it would all work out. So I let myself do that for the first time in my life.

But nothing ever stays good forever. Molly and I both had pasts that’d taught us that the hard way.

24

Three months later…

“Bring it, baby! Ain’t nothing gonna stop the Tide!”

Walking into the locker room after practice, I was faced with the most f**king disturbing sight I’d ever seen—Jimmy-Don in his funky white briefs on a table, grinding a towel between his legs, his Stetson still firmly on his head… and nothing else.

“We got ’em boys. Gonna get another BCS National Championship, no doubt about it!” He didn’t stop there, whooping and hollering for several minutes, and Austin moved to stand beside me, saying, “How he gets laid is beyond me, crazy f**ker.”

Laughing as Jimmy-Don worked our teammates into a frenzy, I couldn’t help but get caught up in all the excitement too. The last three months I’d played like never before—we all had—and my girl, my girl attended every home game, even some away, and she kissed me, publicly, before each and ever one, the fans unwilling to have it any other way. They were beginning to love her just as much as me.

Coach chose that moment to enter the room, trying his damnedest to hold in his amusement of our offensive tackle working it like a pro.

“Jimmy-Don Smith! Get the hell down from there!” Grimacing, Jimmy-Don jumped off the table and followed the coach, apologizing until he was dragged away by a teammate and shoved into the showers.

Coach tried to hide his mirth, then finding me at the back, tilted his chin and signaled for me to meet him in his office.

Sitting before him, I asked, “What’s up, Coach?”

“I wanted to let you in on a very interesting call I had yesterday.”

Frowning, I said, “Okay…”

“It was from the head coach of the Seattle Seahawks.” Excitement built in my chest, and I smiled; Coach did too.

“They’re having a real tough time this season, and if things keep going south for them and we get it right, you’ll be a first-round draft pick. You could find yourself heading north for Seattle, son. You’d be getting a fresh start away from Bama.” I got what he was really saying—I’d be getting a fresh start away from my folks.

“I told the Hawks what I think of you.”

I looked at him and frowned. What the hell was that?

Coach smiled and said, “Relax, I told them you’re the best quarterback I’ve ever worked with, your work ethic is bordering on obsessive—which is a good thing—and you’re one of the strongest kids I know, especially in the face of adversity. I told them you’re the damn lottery, son.”

Coach stood, always a man of few words, and clapped me on the shoulder, seeing I was choked up at his words, and left me alone to process all that was said.

Seattle.

Moving to my locker in a daze, I grabbed a shower and quickly dressed into my jeans and T-shirt. My thoughts were going crazy. I was excited by what Coach had just said, the fact I could get away to somewhere like Seattle. But I was also worried with when I should tell Mol. Right now the Hawks were a possibility, but I didn’t want her to plan her future around it, in case things changed. Plus, we’d never even agreed that she would come with me. That was a conversation we needed to have.