Chapter Eighteen

 

Shane

Two days later…

 

A Roy Rogers is really not as satisfying as it used to be. I'm not sure it was ever actually that satisfying, but at least it didn’t remind me of Julie before. That's another thing about a Roy Rogers – it’s not nearly as good at drowning out memories and questions as beer or liquor would be. But I made a commitment not to drink out in public until the season ends. It wasn't part of our arrangement, and Julie has no idea I'm doing it. I know, and it's a promise I made to prove I could maintain what she was able to salvage for me. I know I could probably drink a pint or two when I'm out with my friends, but there's always the chance that could be seen by the public or press as evidence that I’m sliding backward.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Julie since she stormed away from me at the Christmas party. I thought that night was going to go so differently. She was supposed to be thrilled, and finally see just how valuable she is to me. Instead, the whole thing blew up in my face. The only solace I have is knowing she's back here now, rather than in Virginia. Gloria called me after Julie first moved back and reassured me that Julie was happy with the changes to her apartment and had agreed to stay there. At least one part of my plan worked out. I'm sure she’ll contact me in the next day or two to tell me she doesn't want me to pay for the apartment, but at least that'll be an opportunity to talk. I really thought I was doing what she would have wanted, but it was the complete opposite, and I don't know how to come back from it. I'm not used to feeling this disconnected, or out of control. I haven't felt this way since I was a child, and I never thought I would feel like this again. The love I feel for Julie and our baby, however, makes it worth the discomfort. I just need to figure out what she wants me to do. She's unlike any woman I've ever met, and I can't deny that I'm hopelessly in love with her. My feelings have grown even stronger since I last spoke those words to her, and I know I never want to not feel this way.

I take one last sip of the drink before tossing a few bills for the bartender and turning around to leave. I haven't taken more than two steps when I run into Vanessa. Shit. This is the last thing I need right now. I'm tired of Vanessa being a part of my life, even if it's just on the periphery. I hoped that Kilmer being traded would solve that, but apparently not.

"Shane," she says. "What a nice surprise. So good to see you."

"Hi," I mutter under my breath as I try to make my way around her and leave.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" she asks as if she genuinely thinks I'm here to see her.

"I'm on my way home," I say.

"I'll come with you," she says.

I stop and turn to her, holding my hands in front of me to stop her from getting any closer.

"No, you won't. I didn't know you were going to be here tonight. I'm not in the mood to play catch up with you. At this point, I have nothing left to say to you."

"Can I just have a minute?" she asks. "Just a minute, then you can go."

"Fine," I say, willing to relent if it means she won't cause a scene.

We walk toward the back of the bar and slide into one of the empty VIP booths. It's been a long time since I sat back here, and as I look out over the rest of the people at the bar, I try to remember what it felt like to be satisfied with a life that revolved around going out with friends and impressing people.

"I wanted to let you know how sorry I am," Vanessa says. "I can't believe what happened. I don't know what got into me."

"I do," I say.

I don't mean it as harshly as it comes out, but her expression immediately becomes embarrassed. A second passes, and her face transforms into a flirty expression. I know it well. It's one of her favorite manipulation techniques.

"Don't you remember how much fun we used to have here?" she asks. "Wouldn't it be nice to be able to have fun like that again?"

"Why don't you bring Kilmer here?" I ask.

"Because I want to be here with you," she says.

"Look, Vanessa, I really don't have time for this."

I start to stand up, and she grabs my wrist.

"He is going to break up with me," she says. "Our relationship is falling apart, and I need some comfort right now."

"I'm not the one you should look to for that anymore."

"But it's because of you that it happened."

"Excuse me?”

"He completely freaked out when he found out I blew our cover about that little misunderstanding."

"Little misunderstanding?" I ask. "Are you seriously calling the time you told the media I physically fucking abused you a little misunderstanding?"

"It doesn't matter," she says. "It's all over now. I rescinded what I said. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

“You didn't do that out of the goodness of your heart," I point out. "The only reason you took back what you said about me is because Julie recorded your admission. You didn't want that leaked to the media."

"It doesn't matter why I did it," she says. "I did, and I look horrible because of it. You know how people treat me now?"

I look at her incredulously.

"Do I know how they treat you? You didn't almost lose your entire career over it."

"Bobby almost did," she says.

"No, he didn't,” I growl. “He got traded. And he probably should have thought about the possibility of that before the two of you pulled that stunt. He deserves what he got."

The manipulative smile returns, and she reaches over to stroke my arm.

"You're right," she says. "He does. And he doesn't deserve me anymore."

"Vanessa, you need to get something through your head. I'm not interested in rekindling shit with you. I was over it a long time ago."

"But could I get you under me?" she purrs.

Ugh. I can’t believe I ever found her attractive.

I pull my arm away from her.

"Listen to me carefully," I snap. "It's done. It's over. You need to move on."

"You’re hung up on that Julie woman, aren’t you?" she sneers.

"Yes," I say. "As a matter of fact, I am. I'm in love with her, Vanessa. She's going to have my baby."

She laughs and tosses her head back.

"Don't be so silly, Shane. You're not in love with her. You love me. You know you do. You can't possibly go from loving me to someone like her. Do I have to remind you?"

"I never loved you, Vanessa. You only wanted to think I did. Just like I wanted to think you loved me. That couldn't be further from the truth."

"Just because she got pregnant? It doesn't take a lot of skill, you know." She slides toward me on the seat. "I could do it so easily. That's no reason that we can’t be together."

"I love her, Vanessa. She's what I want. I want to start a family with her."

I pull out of her grip and walk away. Nothing she can say will distract me from my future with Julie. As soon as playoffs are over, I'm going to do whatever it takes to prove to her that we should be together.

 

Five days later…

 

I drop back into the pocket and scan the field. Ricky is on the L route, busting down the left sideline to beat his defender, but I doubt he can shake them. Amal will cross him at some point, but the defensive line is driving us back hard. The other team has been pushing us back all night because of what this game is. What this game means. Especially Kilmer.

When I found out Coach traded Kilmer to our biggest divisional rival for a couple of draft picks, the fact that the team had faith in me again emboldened me, and I played better than I had in a while, despite feeling lost most of the time. Thinking about Julie often makes my body feel like it’s almost on autopilot. It takes all of my focus to concentrate on the game and push Julie out of my mind, which is exactly what I'm doing tonight as we face down that rival team for a place in the Championship.

Kilmer has said on multiple media outlets that he couldn't wait to get his hands on me. I believe it. He's been exceptional tonight. At the top of his game, really. I know much of his effort is to make good on his word and prove, once and for all, that he is the better player. He has yet to get to me, though. He hasn't even been able to touch me. My linemen are hyperaware of his presence and have kept him far away on the few occasions he's tried to reach me. I can feel pressure now, but I don't see it coming from the outside, so I know Bobby is out in the backfield somewhere. Waiting.

Daron has gone short but is smothered, and my eyes scan one last time before I decide to spike it. Then I see him. Baker is deep and open. I set my feet and fire without thought and the ball sails forty yards. Kevin reaches up, and I see it glide directly into his hands and he is gone, straight into the end zone, giving us a six-point lead. I celebrate and point to Kevin who is dancing in the end zone. He is laughing and pointing back when I see Bobby Kilmer standing in my path. He points in my direction ominously and walks away.

 

4th Quarter

 

When I take the field for what could be the last time tonight, we are still up by six points. I know one more drive downfield could end the game. I take the field and huddle my guys together, giving them the heads up. We are going to drive the ball downfield, but before we do that, we are going to try a passing play to see if we can get a big jump on them. Ricky knows to make himself open; otherwise, I will try to get it to the line of scrimmage and slide down.

As we line up, I see Bobby Kilmer on the right side, staring me down. He might be a great player, but he has a terrible poker face. I smirk and hike the ball, dropping back into position. I look for Ricky, but he has tripped coming off the line and now there is no one to go to. I know my play and I tuck the ball and head for the middle of my line, looking for an opening I can slide through. I see one and head to it, darting off to the right side.

I slide toward the line, thinking about my next move, when I see Bobby Kilmer directly in front of me, his head ducked down, heading straight at me. We are going to make contact head-on and he is bearing down on me with his entire weight. I try to brace myself for the impact, but everything goes dark.

 

Julie

The next day…

 

I can't breathe. My lungs feel like they are withering to dust as my heart pounds so hard it threatens to burst out of my chest. I am curled up on Mrs. Livingston's couch, trying to relax, but I’m gripping the cushions so tightly my knuckles ache. The two of us were preparing for another evening marathon, but nothing on the TV right now is fun or entertaining. On the screen is a long table where Coach Frank Dunsworth sits, flanked by Mr. Tinker, Mrs. Evans, and Mr. Chance, along with a couple other men in suits. I don't care about them. I'm worried about the woman sitting at the very end of the table. The one in a white physician’s coat. Mr. Tinker has a microphone in front of him, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

"At this time, Janine, we have no further word on his condition. Obviously, we will let the press know when we have any further confirmation, but at this time all we know is it is a spinal cord injury, and that he has been put into a medical coma."

"Has there been any discussion about his future? Frank?"

"I…. I have no comment at this time. I don't know anything. I wish like hell I did, but I really don't."

The woman in the white coat now speaks.

"In my professional opinion, Mr. Lawson is lucky to be alive. The direction he made contact and the compression of his neck was so destructive, he could have lost the ability to walk. The medical coma was necessary to have any chance of surgery to repair the damage in his neck. Thankfully, the damage was direct, and Mr. Lawson was in exceptional physical condition. His musculature around his spine kept him from being possibly fatally injured."

"Mr. Tinker, do you have anything to say about the League's punishment of Bobby Kilmer? Do you think it was sufficient?"

"You know, I have known Bobby Kilmer quite well for some time. After my family bought the team, we were well-acquainted with Mr. Kilmer and Mr. Lawson, and we watched as the rivalry between the two men developed. It’s why we traded Bobby in the first place, and to see him do something so heinous… I don't know, really. I don't know if a lifetime ban is enough. I don't know if I personally feel like anything less than prison is enough, and I know my lawyers are going to go crazy for me saying that, but it's true. Bobby willfully and knowingly assaulted Shane Lawson. And now, well, now we have to focus on the championship game without our quarterback."

"Captain," Coach says, "he's our captain."

"Our captain. I don't know if I feel like the League's punishment of Bobby is enough, but I know that when we play next Sunday, our boys will be playing not just for the championship, not for each other, but for their captain. Shane, get better."

Mr. Tinker raises his hand up as reporters begin to shout questions, but he, and everyone else at the table, stands to leave.

 

********

 

"He's hurt," I say, looking toward Mrs. Livingston. "He got hurt."

She nods sadly.

"I know. It happened in the game last night. Kilmer attacked him. Hit him hard. It was obviously pre-meditated."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You bristle every time I dare to mention his name, and you said you didn't want to watch the game. I didn't want to push you."

I'd gone back and forth about watching the playoff game with her the night before. Finally, I decided I couldn't do it, and went back to my apartment to soak in a long bath instead. I couldn't bring myself to smash Rubber Duckie back on the same wall where I found him, so he hangs by two plastic clothespins from the retractable clothesline that crosses the top of the shower. We've had a long, albeit one-sided, conversation about my plans to eventually get in touch with Shane. At the very least, I told him, I needed to tell him to stop paying my rent and give him the ultrasound picture from last week. My third-trimester exhaustion had made me drift off to sleep early on in the night.

"You should have told me he got hurt," I say. "I might not have wanted to watch him play, but you should have told me something happened to him."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't think you would care."

"How could it possibly not matter to me?" I asked, instinctively pressing my hands to both sides of my belly. "This isn't just a bruise or a broken bone. It sounds serious."

"Julie, I want you think about what you're doing right now."

"What do you mean? I don't even know what I'm doing right now."

"Exactly. You've avoided talking about Shane since the first day you came back. You told me you don't know how to move forward with him, but by the way you’re acting right now, it seems you don't know how to move forward without him."

I know she's right. My reaction doesn't make any sense. I'm in a panic now that I know he’s hurt, and that goes completely against everything I thought I felt about him and the future of our relationship.

"I don't know what to do."

"I think you do."

"You're the one who told me to be careful, and not let myself get too invested in Shane."

"That was before, when there was still a chance you could keep your relationship professional. It was before you fell in love with him. Before he fell in love with you. That was a completely different situation."

"But when I first told you about him, you told me that people change."

"And you thought I meant for the worse."

I immediately realize what she's been trying to tell me. When she first said it, I thought she was talking about Shane's friendship with my brother and how it ended so abruptly. Now I know that's not what she meant. People do change, but they can change for the better. Both of us have changed – for each other.

"I need to go," I say.

I scramble to my feet as quickly as Bump will allow and push my feet into my shoes.

"Do you want me to drive you?"

I realize my hands are trembling, and I nod.

"Yes, please."

She stands and grabs her keys.

"Let's go."

 

********

 

It takes almost an hour to get through the gridlocked traffic to the hospital. I've never seen so many news vans crushed into one area before. As we make our way past the collection of reporters, I notice bloggers and sportscasters crowded behind them. Fans wearing replicas of Shane's jersey group as close to the barriers as they can. My stomach feels sick when I realize that they're holding a vigil.

We finally make it to the parking deck and rush into the hospital. A few people look like they want to turn us away, but their eyes drift down to my belly, and they let me go through. I know they think I'm there because I'm in labor, and at this point, I'm willing to let them. When we get to the Intensive Care Unit, a nurse finally stops us.

"The maternity ward is in a different building," she says.

"I know,” I say. “I'm not here because of the baby."

"Why are you here?" she asks.

"I need to see Shane Lawson."

"That's his baby she's carrying around in there," Mrs. Livingston pointed out, pressing a finger to my belly.

The nurse seems to think about this revelation for a few seconds, then looks nervously behind herself before looking back at me.

"No one is permitted in the room," she says. "You can go as far as the waiting room, but that's it. There are several people here already that are claiming to know him, and we've been asked not to allow anyone else inside."

"Thank you," I say as she opens the door and lets me slip past. I look back over my shoulder and see that Mrs. Livingston isn't following me.

"Aren't you coming?" I ask.

"I'll just wait out here," she says. "I don't want to get involved in all that, and this is something I think you should do on your own."

I nod and rush toward the waiting room. I'll find a way to get into that room. No matter what they say.

I haven't taken more than a few steps into the room when I feel anger burst through me so intensely I stop in my tracks. My eyes burn into the back of the head I would recognize anywhere. Vanessa is draped over a chair, her hands covering her face as she lets out big, dramatic sobs. I walk up to her in two long strides. This bitch.

"Get the fuck out of here," I growl.

She looks up, and I immediately notice there are no tears on her face.

"Excuse me?" she asks, seemingly appalled I would dare speak to her.

"I don't think this needs any explanation."

"You're the one who needs to leave," she says, pressing her hand to her chest in a performance that would at least get her an honorable mention at an awards show. "The love of my life in there, and I refuse to leave him. Shane needs me."

"The love of your life?" I scoff.

"Yes. Shane and I are back together, and deeply committed to each other."

"Bullshit. I'm only going to tell you one more time. Get the fuck out of here."

"Who do you think you are telling me what to do at all?"

"You know exactly who I am."

A security guard walks up to me.

"Is there a problem here?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, pointing at Vanessa. "She needs to not be here."

"Why does she get to tell me if I'm allowed to be in a public place or not?" Vanessa asks, batting her eyelashes.

"You know Shane Lawson is here, right?” I asked the security guard.

"Of course, I do. That's why I'm here. I'm trying to keep the crowds back."

"Then you must know who this is," I gesture toward Vanessa.

His eyes narrow as if he hadn't noticed she was sitting there. I don't know how, considering the display she was putting on when I first came into the waiting room.

"You're that girl who said he pushed you around," the guard says.

Vanessa sputters for a few seconds, but I cut her off.

"Which is why it's very clear she has no right to be here. Shane wouldn't want her here, and I definitely don't."

"Nobody cares what you want," Vanessa finally snaps.

I look at the guard again.

"Do you know who I am?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, no."

"That's alright. Most people don't. But Shane does." I rest my hand on Bump. "This is his baby."

"Are you Julie Jacobs?"

I look toward the voice and see a doctor who just walked out of the back of the unit.

"Yes," I say, taking a step toward him.

"You can come with me."

"What?"

"When Shane was brought in here, he was still conscious. Barely, but conscious. He said your name. His coach told me your full name and said if you ever came, to bring you to Shane immediately."

I can hear Vanessa gasp beside me.

"Thank you," I say, then turn to the guard. "Get her out of here, please."

He nods and looks down at Vanessa, his face stern. Finally, she makes a disgusted sound and stands. The guard walks after her as she flounces out of the waiting room. I wait until she's disappeared down the hallway before I turn back to the doctor and follow him into the unit and Shane's room. My heart nearly stops in my chest when I see him lying there, tubes and wires linking him to machines on either side of the bed.

"You can stay in here as long as you want," the doctor says.

"Does he know I'm here?" I ask.

"Nobody knows," he admits. "But I believe he can hear you. I think he can sense your presence. Sit with him. Talk to him. You never know. It could help."

"Is he going to be alright?" I ask.

I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

"It's too early to really tell," the doctor says. "But Shane is healthy and strong. He was in the absolute peak physical shape when this happened. That gives athletes the best chances of recovery. I've seen it before. Don't lose hope."

The doctor offers me a smile, then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I settle into the chair beside the bed and reach for Shane's hand. I lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Shane. I'm here. And this time, I promise, I’m not going anywhere."