I narrowed my eyes. “Do I need to get Heidi to babysit you while Gideon is at practice and I’m at work?”
Tatum glared at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wanna try me?” My threat was cut off by voices rumbling from outside the hospital room door. I started to get out of the chair. “I’m gonna see what—”
“No,” Tatum snapped. “I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“Who?”
A furious voice in the hallway snarled what sounded like, “that’s my son!”
My eyes widened. “Is that your dad out there?”
Tatum nodded and laced our fingers together. “He called me a few days ago. Usually, I just ignore him. But I figured it was you calling, and I answered without looking. I should have hung up the fucking phone.”
“Tay … what happened?”
Tatum spilled everything. His father’s demands. The whispered rumors about us to big wigs in the Red Cocks organization. The PI who had followed us in Antigua. The photos.
“He got in my head,” Tatum said with a sigh. “I was feeling good before the game, blocking it out, and then I was on the line of scrimmage, looked over, and saw him sitting there, front and center. Every play, I felt his eyes on me. I should have seen that guy coming at me low, but I was too worried about my fucking footwork. I was thinking about all the times I came home from some football camp he had shipped me off to. Instead of asking me how I was doing or catching up like a normal father and son, he’d have me in the yard running drills until it was dark. I should have seen that guy coming. This wouldn’t have happened.”
“Baby, it’s not your fault.” My heart broke for the little boy who just wanted a father. Not a coach, not an agent, not a manager
“It is. All of it is my fault. Tackling you during that preseason game—he had gotten in my head then, too. And if you get released from the Ladies in Red, that’s on me.”
I let out a long sigh. I was dreading walking into my own execution tomorrow. Even if the rose-colored glasses had faded over the years, I was dreading being stripped of a position I had worked so hard for. But all that paled in comparison to him. To love.
“Right before the game, Jewel told me she was retiring at the end of the season.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “It kind of came out of nowhere, but I realized that she was right. I’d rather go out loving what I do, than to ride the crazy train until the sport breaks me. Maybe it’s three games sooner than what I wanted, but I’m done. Whatever happens tomorrow, it won’t change the fact that when my time with the Reds ends, I’m going to be doing what I want to do forever.” I eased out of my chair and pressed my lips to his forehead. “I’m going to wake up next to you.”
* * *
“You look beautiful.”Tatum stood behind me at his bathroom sink and dropped a kiss to my shoulder.
He had been discharged from the hospital midmorning on the promise to do nothing but rest. Being the absolute angels they were, Gideon and Heidi arranged for our vehicles to be brought from the stadium back to Tatum’s building, then picked us up from the hospital. Paparazzi flocked around the sidewalk as Gideon pulled up to the curb. Tatum slid his hand onto my lower back as we walked inside. A shiver ran down my spine. Claimed. Loved. His.
After making sure Tatum was okay for an hour, I ran back to my apartment and packed an overnight bag, then went back to the penthouse. Tatum had been napping for most of the day, keeping light and noise to a minimum. At his behest, I stayed beside him, though I didn’t sleep a wink. My mind raced as I formed preemptive arguments to combat the accusations that were going to be thrown at me during the meeting this evening.
But there wasn’t much I could say. The rule follower in me knew it was wrong the moment Tatum tackled me to the ground and I stared in his warm, brown eyes.
There are things in life that matter more than a game. More than a uniform or team affiliation. More than following the rules. Rules keep you safe, but sometimes the risk is worth it.
I raised my chin, stared at our reflection in the mirror, and swiped on a coat of crimson lipstick. If I was going to war, I needed some armor.
* * *
The hem of my black,wide-legged palazzo pants swished with every click of my sky-high stilettos as we made our way down the tile hallway. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. My sweater was the color of crushed cranberries and hugged every inch of my torso. Instead of brushed-out curls, my hair was slick and straight in a high ponytail.
The Ladies in Red were quintessential Americana. Never a hair out of place. Always sweet, always gracious. Warm and cheerful. There was nothing wrong with that. It was a role that I loved playing.
But today? Today I was going into battle. Gone was the modest cocktail dress and string of pearls. My look was lethal.
Tatum squeezed my hand as we made our way through the maze of hallways in the Red Cocks facilities. It was strange being with someone who was so familiar with a place that I had called home for so long.
Though the doctors had insisted that Tatum reduce mental stimuli as much as possible, he had argued with me about him coming to the meeting.
Tatum won. Upon hearing that he had been released from the hospital, the coaching staff not-so-subtly demanded a meeting with him, too.
Voices echoed from the far end of a hallway as we took another sharp turn. Four figures stood outside one of the conference rooms.