Laney
THIS GAME HAS been brutal to watch.
I don’t think anyone expected it to be such a grudge match. Including Kam.
He’s playing his heart out and taking a beating while doing it. My anxiety has spiked through the roof. Last down, he was sacked after he threw the ball with no flag on the play. These refs suck. Dirty as it was, what really scared me is that he took longer than usual to get up. I bit all the gel polish off my nails in the third quarter and then started right in on my real nails in the fourth.
It’s tied, and there’s a minute left on the clock. It’s like swallowing pins and needles. I don’t know how Kam deals with the pressure.
My father rubs my shoulders as we watch from the skybox. My mother is on my left and Kam’s mom is on my right.
“He’s gonna pull it out. If anyone can do it, Kam can,” my father reassures me. His southern drawl soothing as always. I know he’s right. On a football field, Kam is Superman.
We are all aware how much he wants this win. I know how hard he’s worked and the pedestal he’s been put on by his fans.
I find myself praying as the ball is snapped. I stop breathing as I watch Kam quickly dance left then right, a barrage of players moving around him and heading toward him. He launches it into the end zone, directly at Wiley who is wide open. Everyone tenses. It looks good. Really, really, good . . . time stands still . . . it’s . . . it’s . . . intercepted!
All my muscles sag as I watch the running back from Miami burn grass down the field for a sixty-yard touchdown.
Tears burn my eyes as the clock runs out. Kam drops to his knees clutching his facemask on the sixty-yard line while Miami celebrates its victory. You can hear a pin drop in the box. I press my palms to the glass as I look down at Kam, helplessly.
I don’t think devastated even begins to describe what I’m feeling. And I know whatever disappointment I’m feeling, Kam is experiencing it a thousand times worse.
And there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing any of us can do.
The last three weeks have been . . . challenging.
Kam hasn’t taken his championship loss very well. Neither has the media. Not even an hour after the game, headlines like “Kam the Scam” and “Alabama Golden Boy Not So Golden” were popping up everywhere. It’s amazing how easily news outlets can turn on you when not even twenty-four hours before they were singing your praises.
I confiscated all the electronics in the house and hid all the remotes so Kam wouldn’t torture himself with the scrutiny. He’s tortured enough. He’s his biggest critic, and he is coming down on himself hard.
He’s barely left the house, eaten, slept, or showered. I try to be understanding and supportive. I know he’ll come through, it will just take some time. How much? Hopefully not too-too much. It’s already been three weeks. Kam usually bounces back from adversity quickly and stronger than before. But this—this is killing him.
I miss my high-spirited, optimistic egomaniac. Not that I would tell him that. I know he has to grieve. A dream died, and that’s as real as losing a loved one.
I watch quietly for a few seconds in the doorway of our bedroom as Kam mindlessly packs a weekender bag. Something that used to take him minutes has taken nearly an hour. He’s lost in thought. Lost in self-deprecation. He sits down on the edge of our bed flipping a balled-up pair of white socks the same way he would handle a football. My heart breaks. I hate seeing him like this. He’s so much better than all of this and everyone knows it. He’ll realize it, too. I’m sure of it.
I saunter over to where he’s sitting and slip myself between his legs. He looks up at me forlornly. It’s so unlike the man I love. Touching his stubbly cheek, I deliver him a warm, tender smile. I’m rewarded with one in return. It isn’t as brilliant as it usually is, but we’re making progress.
“I don’t want to go,” Kam confesses.
“You need to go,” I urge. “You need to blow off some steam and decompress. Go be with your guys. Drink, laugh, have fun. It’s a bachelor party. Show Telly a good time.” I clutch his face. “And have one yourself.”
Kam exhales. He’s mustering his drive.
“I’m going to miss you.” He rests his hands on my hips.
I lean over and whisper seductively in his ear, “It’s only two days, and when you get home, we’ll have a good time of our own.”
Kam emits a little growl as he digs his fingertips into my waist. I smile to myself, my All-star is coming around.
We share an elongated, steamy kiss that fogs the bedroom windows and leaves me winded.
“Are you sure you want to wait until I get back?” Kam asks with his eyes closed and breathing labored. I can’t help but respond, and just as I go to climb on top of him, our intercom buzzes.
“Shit. That’s Rodney.” Kam falls back onto our shiny, sparkly comforter I insisted on having.
“Better get that.” I pat his chest.
“Yeah,” he huffs, disappointed.
“Oh, stop,” I scold him. “Go. Please have some fun. Crush it on the golf course. It will feed your competitive appetite.”
“I guess.” He sits up and steals one more emotive kiss before the buzzer goes off again. “Fucker.”
I laugh before running to get the door. Our condo isn’t huge, but it’s definitely spacious enough with its large, modern, eat-in kitchen, living room with views of the Hudson River, and double-port entryway. I swing open the front door to a smiling Rodney. Rodney Pines is a running back for New York but a big ol’ country boy at heart. He and Kam hit it off right away.
“Hey, Lanes! Is the man ready?” Rodney strolls in wearing a tight black T-shirt and worn out Levis.
“As I’ll ever be.” Kam appears in a very similar outfit, but his jeans are cut a bit more modern and hang lower on his hips. The man wears clothes like a damn model, but it’s the fitted baseball cap that gets me. He’s adorably hot when he’s not even trying.
“What are you grinning at?” Kam asks as he drops his bag at my feet.
“My Mister Perfect.” I dot a kiss on his lips.
“You know I’m not perfect.” His tone is distressed.
“You know that’s not true,” I disagree. “You’re perfect for me.”
“Awww, you two are so nauseatingly cute. Let me take a picture.” Rodney pretends to snap away.
“You and your pictures.” Kam swipes at him.
“Everyone needs a hobby.” Rodney picks up Kam’s bag. “I also think I threw up in my mouth a little.”
“Don’t be jealous, Rodney,” I tease him.
“Trust me, I’m not.” He’s somewhat serious. “We’re gonna be late. I don’t want to hear a plane full of complaints.”
“I’m with ya.” Kam slides an arm around my waist. “What are ya gonna do while I’m away?” He kisses my neck.
“Think naughty thoughts about you,” I announce just to make Rodney uncomfortable.
“Aww, jeez. Maybe I’m a little jealous now.” Rodney slings Kam’s bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll meet you at the car.” Kam chases Rodney away.
“You got five minutes.”
“Plenty of time.” Kam presses me against the wall, a wicked look in his light blue eyes.
“Not nearly enough time,” I dispute.
“Seriously, dry heaving here,” Rodney yells from out of sight.
Kam and I both crack up. It’s good to see him smile. Genuinely smile.
“Lemon, don’t send me away knowing you’re going to be all hot and bothered.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Taking care of you is my job.”
“And you do it exceptionally well.” I lean in and press my lips to his, slipping just the tip of my tongue into his mouth.
“Don’t tease me, Laney.”
“I’m not. I’m sending you away with expectations.”
“Very dirty expectations.”
“As dirty as you want them to be,” I promise.
“Jesus, I love you, woman.”
“I’m one of a kind,” I toy.
“That is the fucking truth.” He crushes me against the wall with another heart-stopping embrace. “Are you sure five minutes isn’t enough time?” Kam presses his raging erection against me.
“Definitely not. I don’t want Rodney pulling you off me right in the middle.”
“A fucking herd of wild horses couldn’t pull me away while I’m inside you.”
Kam’s phone rings. And there is reality returning.
“Go,” I encourage him. “Sunday night I’m all yours.”
“You’re all mine for the rest of your life.” He steps back, adjusts himself, then takes my hand and kisses my engagement ring.
“I’ve been all yours since the moment we met,” I reluctantly admit.
“Don’t I know it.” Kam grins triumphantly. Such a cocky shit. But that’s why I love him. His confidence shines like the sun, and his heart is as big and as deep as the ocean. He’s one of a kind.
Kam pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “I’m comin’.”
He hangs up then groans. It’s sexy, even though it’s a frustrated sound.
“I’m going to start a wedding registry with my mom later today,” I reveal my real plans. “I’ll pick out a few things, and then we can pick out the rest together.”
“Sounds like a plan. Your mom will like that. Quality time.”
“Yeah. She’s all about this wedding. It’s pretty nice having her around.”
“I can tell how much you like spending time with her.” Kam swipes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip.
“I am overly blessed with amazing people in my life.”
“Lemon, it’s us who’re blessed. Trust me on that.” Kam swipes his lips over mine this time. The sweet, loving contact makes my scalp tingle. “Make sure you put a sterling silver grill set on that registry. I’m planning on some big family cookouts in the future.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll make sure to register for a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, too.”
“Long as it’s pink,” Kam cracks.
“Done.” I giggle. I plan to find one with ruffles, too. That image would go viral, no doubt.
Kam’s phone rings again, and we both acknowledge it’s really time for Kam to go.
“Be good. Miss me a lot.” Kam steals one more kiss.
“You know I always do.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”