“I’M GOING to grab some popcorn,” Aiden says. “Does anyone want anything?”
“Can you bring me a beer?” I ask. “This game is stressing me the hell out, and the Titans are up by fourteen.”
“Sure. Anything for you, sweetheart?” he asks Maggie, and she shakes her head.
“Nope. I’m good, thank you.” She kisses his cheek and pats his chest. “Hurry back.”
“Have you two ever had a fight?” I ask as Aiden walks away. “I swear it’s nothing but smooth sailing with you all.”
I scoot closer to her as a burst of wind rips through the stadium. The temperature is unforgiving today, dipping well below freezing and making my hands turn red even inside my gloves. It hasn’t deterred the crowd, though. The Titans fans are out in full force, their blue jerseys bright against the backdrop of the setting sun and their cheers ringing through the air.
“We definitely argue. We agree on most things, but sometimes tensions will get high and we have to take a step back. There’s never any yelling, and after a few minutes, we realize how stupid we’re being.” Maggie smiles and rests her head on my shoulder. “I’ll take a bad day with him over a good day with anyone else.”
“Was it scary to let Aiden in like that?” I ask. “To be vulnerable with him?”
“Is this a hypothetical question, or is there something you need to tell me?”
“Totally hypothetical. Consider it investigative research.”
She hums and loops her arms around mine. “Okay, I’ll play along. Of course it was scary. It’s fucking terrifying to let your guard down. We live in a world where everyone expects to see the best versions of you. And then you come out of the woodwork and say, surprise! I’m divorced and infertile, and they all kind of look at you like you have two heads because suddenly you’re not perfect and put together. But the right person will still think you’re perfect. Two broken halves are still a whole.”
“That is incredibly wise coming from the woman who gave the guy she met at a strangers’ photo shoot a few hours prior a list of things she wanted to try in bed,” I say, and I laugh when she pinches my side. “I’m just kidding. I love your love story. When you know, you know, right?”
“Yes and no. I think some love is hot and heavy. It burns fast and bright, like the flash of lightning in a summer storm. Other love takes more time. It’s more… raw. Real. Slow and steady. It’s uncovering bits and pieces of someone and dusting away that coat of armor they’ve put around themselves. It’s also relentless, because it keeps showing up. It’s sneaky and it’s annoying, because just when you think you’ve escaped, just when you think you’ve gotten away without being burned, you realize you’re totally obsessed with someone and your world is on fire when they’re around.” She sighs. “Love is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I stare at the field, and my eyes find Shawn. He’s pacing on the sideline, his hands tucked under his arms and his shoulders curved forward. “I guess it is.”
Could he love me like that?
The thought races through my mind, and before I allow it to manifest, before I allow it to take shape and form into something meaningful, I shove it away. Far away, in the compartment where I keep the other things I adore about him.
I’ll open it up on a rainy day in March when the flowers start to bloom. I’ll remember what it was like when he held me close, and I’ll think maybe, maybe there’s a chance someone could love me one day.
Like the way I deserve.
“You okay?” Maggie asks, and her question is thoughtful. Careful. I wonder if she can read my mind and see all the secrets I’m hiding.
“I’m fine.” I smile and watch the Titans huddle up. “Is it just me, or does something seem off today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Shawn doesn’t seem like himself. He’s pacing more than normal, and his shoulders are up by his ears. The Titans are winning, too. Usually when they’re up, he’s laughing and having a good time. That’s not the case today,” I say, and my smile melts into a frown. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Been keeping an eye on him?” Maggie jokes, and my cheeks turn pink.
I have been keeping an eye on him, but I won’t admit it to her. I always find him when he’s on the field. It’s like he’s a beacon of light and I can’t look away.
My frown deepens when he rubs his chest. It’s the third time he’s done it, and I know it’s not because he’s nervous. It’s different. Something new and something I haven’t seen before. I wish there was a way to ask him what’s going on; I’ve tried to get his attention, but every time he moves down the sidelines, he keeps his gaze on the field, not the stands, and it’s completely out of character.
I’m worried.
“Maybe he’s cold,” I say, even though it’s a lie. The man is a tattooed human furnace. “He should put his jacket on.”
“Men,” Maggie mumbles under his breath. “He won’t be having any fun if his fingers fall off.”
Neither will I, I think, and I bite back a grin.
“You know they—”
I stop talking when Shawn walks behind the Titans’ bench. He crouches down on the turf and pulls off his headset. His hands shake as he brings them to his forehead. I watch him rock back and forth, his shoulders curling in on themselves.
“What’s going on?” Maggie asks. “What’s wrong with Shawn?”
“I think—I think he might be having a panic attack,” I say, and my voice cracks. “I need to get down there.”
“What? I didn’t know he—oh my god, Lacey, is he okay?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if he’s okay, Maggie, but I need to get down there. Right now,” I say again, and I can hear my hysteria. “When Aiden gets here, will you—”
“Yes. Yes. How are you—the only way onto the field is through the tunnel.”
I stare at the metal railing in front of me with a determined glare. “No, it’s not.” I swing my legs over the ledge of the concrete block. A security guard standing on the field glances up at me, and his eyes widen. “Tell Aiden what’s going on.”
“Lacey.” Maggie reaches out and holds my shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”
“I know.” I nod, but my eyes fill with tears. “I just don’t want him to be alone,” I whisper, and she nods. I take a deep breath and heave myself out of the stands and onto the field.
I land on my feet, and three security guards charge toward me.
“Ma’am, you’re not allowed down here,” one says.
“You are trespassing, and you will be ejected from the game,” another says, and I try to push past them.
“I have to see him. That’s my—he’s my—I need to make sure he’s okay,” I say. “Please, let me check on him.”
“We can’t do that. You don’t have the credentials to be down here,” the third says, and he pulls out a walkie talkie. “Step back. Now.”
“Fuck the credentials,” I yell as Jett leads Shawn to a tent on the sidelines. I can’t see him anymore, and my panic rises.“That is the man I care about and he is not alright. Let me go, or I will get over there however I can.”
“Hey.” I hear a sharp voice, and I see Dallas running toward me. “She’s fine. Let her on.”
“We’re not—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re allowed to do,” he snaps. “That’s her boyfriend, and he needs her. You can take it up with him after the game if you want, and I’ll pay the fine. Let her through.”
My eyes sting with fresh tears, and I want to scream at the top of my lungs. The security guards step back, and I take off toward Shawn. Dallas touches my arm as I pass, and my bottom lip trembles as I look at him.
“Thank you,” I say.
“He’s going to be okay,” he says, and he gives me a quick hug. He smells like sweat, but I lean into his comforting embrace anyway. “Jett got him into the medical tent. There’s no press in there.”
“Got it.” I sprint past the rest of the players and into the tent. I spot him immediately, and my heart lurches in my chest.
It’s amazing how someone so big can look so small.
He’s sitting on a leather table with his head in his hands. He’s rocking back and forth again, and I hear soft whispers like he’s talking to himself.
“Shawn.” I drop to my knees in front of him and rest my hands on his thighs. “Hey, it’s me. Lacey.”
“Lacey?” He lifts his chin and his eyes find mine. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might want some company.” I stand up and stroke his hair. It’s damp with sweat around his forehead, and I brush a couple of rogue pieces out of his eyes. “Is it okay if I stay with you for a little while?”
“Yeah. Of course,” he says, and I climb onto the table. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I didn’t have to travel very far.” I sit behind him and I pull him toward me so his back is against my chest. I rub his shoulders and down his arms, trying to ease the tension he’s carrying in the pressure points of his body; his hands. The slope of his neck. The valley between his shoulders. “I would’ve traveled farther if I had to. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“I think I’m having a panic attack,” he whispers.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re definitely having a panic attack. But it’s okay. You’re in the medical tent now. You’re safe in here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, okay?”
“Okay.”
I fumble with my phone and pull it out of my back pocket. I search for a song on the internet and hit play. The soft opening chords of Pachelbel’s Canon fill the small space, and Shawn’s shoulders instantly relax.
“You’re okay,” I murmur in his ear. “You’re alright. I’m here.”
We stay like that for a while. The game continues on without Shawn; I can still hear the whistle and the crowd and the players walking back and forth on the sidelines. But in here, we’re in a tiny bubble. A fortress no one—not even one of his panic attacks—can break into.
The music loops, a one-hour version that plays on repeat. I hum along to the violins and hold Shawn’s hand. His tattooed arm drapes down my thigh. When the third round of the canon comes around, Shawn perks up.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says, and I shake my head.
“We’re not going to do that,” I say softly. “Do you remember what I told you when you came to my apartment after your first loss of the season? I said you don’t have to be perfectly put together around me.”
“You’re a safe space for me,” he mumbles, so quietly I barely hear him. It hangs there in the air, weighty and heavy, before he continues. “Just like these other parts of my life I associate as somewhere I can be myself and make mistakes. I also feel it with you.”
“That’s how I feel about you, too.” I rest my chin on his shoulder and sigh. “It’s lovely to have a place that feels so nice, isn’t it? A place that feels like home.”
Shawn folds his hand over my knee. His fingers fan out around my thigh and his thumb rubs along the stitching of my fleece-lined leggings. “You feel more like home to me every day.”
If there was a way to see inside my chest, I’m certain there’d be a picture of my heart stitching itself back together with those words. Every second this man is in my arms, the walls I’ve put up slowly start to come down.
There are so many times in my life where I feel like I’m alone. Watching my friends find love and settle down. Mediocre dates that never pan out to anything besides awkward conversation and a few drinks. The ask to change myself for someone else because how I am isn’t good enough.
With Shawn by my side, I’m never alone.
“It’s a nice house, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Yeah. I really like what you’ve done with the place.” He lets out a sigh and rolls his shoulders back. “I think I’m better now. That was the worst I’ve had in a while.”
“What do you think triggered it?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because we’re leaving for my parents soon. Maybe it’s because—” he stops himself short of saying anything else, and I frown at the secret he’s holding on to. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. I’m sorry I worried you.”
“You’re not allowed to apologize to me. Not over something like this. Can I look at you and make sure you’re alright?”
He nods, and I adjust our positions. I sneak out from behind him so we’re sitting side by side, and I smile at him. There’s color on his cheeks and a twinkle in his eye. His breathing is back to normal, and he looks good, like the man I had in bed with me until early this morning.
Before I know what I’m doing, I lean forward and kiss him. It’s frantic and hurried, but I need to make sure he’s okay, really okay.
I’ll be a mess if he isn’t.
Shawn groans against my mouth, and his hands find my hair. He pulls the beanie off my head and throws it to the side. His fingers thread through my braids and he tugs on the long strands.
“Lacey,” he says, and he lifts me into his lap. “I love when you wear your hair like this.”
“I’m not fucking you in the medical tent with thousands of people outside,” I warn him, and his laugh is warm against my skin. “You’re not in the right headspace for that.”
“No, I’m not. I just want you close. Thank you for coming to check on me. It means a lot that you’re here.”
“I told you there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” I kiss his forehead and run my hand down his cheek. Stubble prickles the pads of my fingers, and I like the scruff he has today. “Do you have to go back out there?”
“I should. I don’t want anyone to worry about me. Or for them to start writing articles that I’m banging my girlfriend on the sidelines.”
“Or in supply closets,” I add, and he tilts his head back and laughs.
“Or supply closets. I wish I didn’t have to go back to the game, though. I’d like to just escape.”
“What if we did escape? We can make up an excuse and leave. Food poisoning is a good one.”
“You’d do that for me?” he asks, and I understand there have been times in Shawn’s life—too many times—where he’s had to put on a brave face for people when all he wants to do is hide. “I don’t want you to miss the rest of the game.”
“Like it’d be any fun without you. Your ass looks great in your joggers. It’s pretty much the only reason why I’m here.”
“And to cheer on Dallas,” Shawn says. “I remember you liking his jersey.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I sigh when his tongue traces across my collarbone. “You’re my favorite guy on the squad.”
“Good answer,” he whispers, and he buries his face between my breasts. “I’m afraid to go back out there.”
“You won’t be alone. I’m right here,” I say, and I rub his scalp with my fingernails. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours. I like yours.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.”
