Chapter Eighteen
The old gym smelled the same. Like stale sweat, popcorn, and a hint of Old Spice, a not altogether unpleasant combo that forever would be linked with some of Hannah’s favorite memories: cheering Deacon from the stands, stomping her feet and waving her handmade signs while ignoring the judging looks from her classmates. Whenever Deacon was on the court, she hadn’t cared what they said because those hours hadn’t been about her. They’d been about him.
Today would also be about him. But, unlike those nostalgic days in the past, Hannah was utterly terrified.
“This is so exciting!” Crystal enthused, grabbing her arm from the railing. They were seated in the front row of the second story. Otherwise known as Hannah’s unofficial spot. “It’s like a sappy rom-com come to life.”
Hannah chuckled. “Let’s just hope it’s stronger on the romance than the comedy,” she murmured, biting her lip.
When she’d looked up Blue’s schedule, determined to put it all on the line for Deacon, she’d discovered the band only had one stop before arriving in Charlotte. Waiting a few extra days had been torturous, but it’d also given Hannah time to create a plan. A potentially awesome plan to topple Deacon’s defenses for good and win his heart forever.
Of course, the opposite could happen, too. He could say he didn’t return her feelings, and she’d make a complete fool of herself in front of the entire town. It certainly fit her stream of luck.
Swiping her sweaty palms over the lap of her jeans, Hannah took in the madness. On the far wall, a huge banner was displayed for Life & Lyrics, Charlie’s foundation for teens fighting depression, along with a poster about the private concert.
Courtside, organizers bustled like angry ants. A guy in a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and Blue baseball cap placed a microphone in the center of the floor, and when he glanced up to survey the crowd, Hannah recognized Brad, one of the band’s roadies. Seeing his familiar face somehow made everything seem more real.
A quick check of the scoreboard showed it was nearly time to start.
Butterflies exploded in her belly.
Back in high school, just before Deacon would take the court, he’d find her in the stands. She’d raise her sign, he’d smile and shake his head, then he’d give her their special signal before the game. It was silly, really. Just a brush of the nose, a point in her direction, and a sly wink. But Lord, it had made her giddy every time.
Would Deacon look for her today, too? Had Arabella let it slip that she’d be here? Would he give her that same silly signal like he used to?
Does he miss me as much as I miss him?
“Look, there’s Missy and Dave,” Crystal said, snapping Hannah out of her endless loop of questions. “Oh, and over there are Molly and Nicole. Hmm, I thought Nicole married…yep, there he is.” She turned to Hannah. “Mike Gleason was in your year, right?”
Hannah smirked. Mike had been in her year, all right. As their resident class clown, he’d been one of her biggest tormentors, using her verbal slipups and handmade duds as easy fodder for laughs.
In fact, as she looked around the crowded gym, Hannah spied several people who used to tease her, along with boys who’d passed her over and girls who’d been jealous of her relationship with Deacon. Every single one of them had seen her for her flaws, never once bothering to look beyond them. For so long, Hannah had thought that was how Deacon had seen her, too. His best friend, sure, but not a girl he could ever love.
Crystal had put things in a new perspective. For too long, she’d allowed her fears to blind her to the truth. That ended today. If it took declaring her love for Deacon in front of Mike and Nicole, Molly and Missy, Dave and the entire rest of the town, too, then so be it. She was fighting for her happy.
Hannah was going after what she wanted. No, what she deserved. She was in love with Deacon Latrell, and for the first time in her life, she believed he might just be in love with her, too. She’d keep on believing that until he looked her square in the eyes and told her otherwise.
Please don’t let him tell me otherwise…
“Ever been to a Blue concert?” Crystal asked, waving away Hannah’s amused smirk. “I mean, before this tour.”
“Nope. Deacon wasn’t in the band then, and it’s not like I had extra cash lying around for tickets. But I did download all their albums, even from the beginning.”
“I hadn’t heard of them before ‘Rain Dance,’” Crystal confided, leaning in close. “But I got so tickled reading about the love story between Tyler Blue and his wife in the magazines that I flew right into uber-fan territory. It was so dang romantic. And to think, now I actually know one of the members!”
It was weird hearing Sherry and Tyler talked about so casually, like they were Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake or something, but she supposed they kind of were like that. Her new friends were bonafide celebrities.
“Arabella has extra passes if you want to watch everything from the ground,” Hannah told her. “I’m staying here, of course, but I can give her a call if you want.”
“And miss out on the fun?” Crystal asked. “Are you insane? I want a front row seat to the looks on everyone’s faces when Deacon publicly admits that he’s in love with you.”
Hannah’s belly flipped at the words. “You know, he might not.” Crystal went to argue, and she lifted her palms in the air. “I heard you the other day, but we should still be prepared for the possibility that Deacon could reject me. If he does, I’ll be heartbroken…but I won’t regret coming here today. One way or another, I’m finally going to know how he feels.” She bumped her friend’s arm. “I’ve got you to thank for that.”
Crystal smiled and then murmured, “Personally, I’m holding out for the fairy tale.”
Smiling wistfully, Hannah laid her head on Crystal’s shoulder. “Me, too.”
…
It was surreal, walking around his former locker room and seeing Tyler, Charlie, Miles, and Nate standing around the benches. The lost, angry kid who’d stalked this room felt like a completely different person from the moderately successful, figuring-life-out man he was today. Still, everywhere Deacon looked, memories assaulted him.
Grueling practices and games, both here and in college. Pounding his feet against the tile as he waited to take the court. So many days he’d bolt through those double-swinging doors, ready to release some of the aggression that clogged his veins, only to glance at the stands and find Hannah smiling at him. Even then, she’d been his calm.
Of course, Krista had been in the stands, too, at least whenever something more important hadn’t come up. She’d made a production out of cheering for him. But Hannah’s quiet, steady presence and her sweet, encouraging smiles were the things he’d sought. It had always been her who he’d played for, her who he’d loved.
God, had he loved her.
Why in the hell had it taken him so long to figure that out? He could wring his former self’s neck. Why couldn’t he have seen what she’d meant to him, or realize sooner that despite his mistakes and every single person who’d left him in the past, that he was worthy of love, too?
“Dude, stop stressing so much. You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer.” Miles slapped him on the back as he came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him near the doors.
“I can’t help it,” Deacon said with a sigh. “If you’d heard the things I said to her—”
“It doesn’t matter,” the guitarist interrupted. “Deke, man, I’ve seen you together. I’m telling you, you go out there and give good grovel, things will work out. You and Hannah are too good together for it not to.”
Deacon linked his hands behind his neck and stared at the streaked floor, considering his friend’s words. As much as he wanted to believe them, he couldn’t help thinking he was too late.
“What about Lindsay?” he asked. A man’s business was his own, but Deacon needed to know. “You said once that she was your Hannah. Ever think about following your own advice?”
Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “I waited too long,” he said, and Deacon heard the regret in his voice. “Missed my chance. Too much time’s passed now.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Deacon thought, glancing out the small window in the door.
The stands were packed. Tickets for the free throw championship and private concert had sold out within hours. A line of media blocked his view of the crowd, but Arabella had assured him Hannah would be out there. She’d come for her new friends, if not for him, but just in case, Deacon had a backup plan.
Hell, he had a backup plan for his backup plan, and if that didn’t work, he had no qualms about camping outside her house until she heard him out. He could be stubborn when he wanted to be, too, and nothing in his life had ever mattered more than Hannah. He wasn’t leaving Charlotte until he’d apologized for hurting her and told her how much he loved her.
After that, he’d ask for forever.
“About that time,” a deep voice bellowed, and when Deacon turned around, he’d have sworn he went back in time.
Tom Mitchell, the winningest basketball coach in Willow Creek history, hadn’t changed one bit. Tufts of white hair stuck out of a faded red WC Tigers ball cap, matching the man’s high-waisted athletic shorts. Sports socks and beat-up Nikes covered his feet.
Tom wrapped his knuckles on a clipboard. “Ready to show my boys how it’s done?”
“You know it, Coach.”
Tom gave his former player an approving nod, then pushed through the swinging door.
Miles and Nate filed out behind him, and Charlie slapped Deacon on the back. “How about making a fool of yourself? You ready for that, too?”
He shoved him off with a reluctant smile. “If it meant getting her back, I’d walk out there naked,” Deacon replied, psyching himself up for what he was about to do. “I’ll do anything for Hannah.”
“Spoken like a true member of the Blue family,” Tyler said with an approving nod, setting his hand on the door. “Now, let’s go get your woman.”
He pushed the door open and Charlie followed, Deacon taking the rear as his friend’s words washed over him. More than ever, he felt like a real part of the band.
Sure, he’d had to grovel with them, too. Apologize for stepping out of bounds and calling the agency, but mostly for sending Hannah away. His actions had hurt everyone. Thankfully he’d gotten good at apologies over the years, and after he admitted how badly he’d screwed up, and how he planned on winning her back, every single one of them had his back. They’d rallied around him and helped him plan what he’d say today.
Even better, he’d finally gotten his extension. Two days ago, Arabella had come up to him with a worried look on her face, wondering why she couldn’t find a contract or amendment that secured his place in the band beyond the tour. Sheepishly, he’d admitted because there wasn’t one. That was all it took. Arabella got on the phone with her dad while Tyler and the guys took turns razzing him for not saying something sooner, and an hour later, he was the new permanent fiddle player slash keyboard player for Blue. It felt good.
It was just as Hannah and Bill had tried telling him: he hadn’t needed to bust his ass to prove himself to the band; he’d already been in. The only thing missing had been a signature.
Now, he needed his center.
Breaking past the media line, the screams were deafening. Deacon wasn’t sure if it was the acoustics of the gym, or what the room represented personally, but the roar seemed louder than the largest stadium they’d played. Handmade signs with his name filled the stands. The newcomer who hung out in the shadows had a fan club. It was insane.
But as always, only one person’s opinion really mattered.
As Tyler grabbed the microphone, thanking the crowd for coming out, Deacon’s gaze honed in on the second story. Relief made his knees weak. He brushed a finger over his nose and pointed in her direction with a sly wink. She returned the gesture with a small, sweet smile, and pure happiness had him shouting without thinking, “Hannah!”
Tyler paused mid-speech. Turning, he gave Deacon an exasperated look as if to say dude, you’re messing with the plan, and the entire room started buzzing with quiet laughter.
A pretty pink blush bloomed across Hannah’s cheeks, and for a frightening second, Deacon wondered if he’d screwed things up again. Then she raised a hand, twitching her fingers in an amused wave, and he thrust out his hand. “I need the mic.”
Tyler shook his head with a laugh, but handed it over, nudging him on the shoulder as he took a step back and gave Deacon the floor. The rest of the guys fell in line, leaving him front and center.
Every eye in the gym focused on him. This wasn’t a concert. There’d be no hiding in the shadows or losing himself in the music, but with Hannah smiling at him like that, he found it impossible to care.
“Sorry about the interruption folks,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the redhead in the balcony. With a nod at the young men waiting to try their hand at the competition he said, “As a former player, I get how annoying this is. But there’s something I have to say, and a woman who needs to hear it now.”
Clearing his throat, he fought the desire to focus on Hannah again, instead addressing the crowd, wanting them all to hear his confession.
“I’ve had two great loves in my life,” he said. “The first is my son, Max, who has more energy than ten cartons of Red Bull. Many of you knew me growing up, some of you even taught me, so I’m sure you’ll understand when I say he inherited my, uh, playfulness.”
As he’d expected, the audience chuckled, and a lone scream rose from the back. “Karma’s a bitch!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered with a grin. “My son also happens to have the biggest heart and brightest smile I’ve ever seen, and as much as I’d like to think he inherited those, too, I know better. Those are a direct result of the second great love of my life. A woman who’s cared for him from the second he screamed his arrival and raised him right alongside me, being a parent in every sense of the word despite what biology might say about it.”
Finally, he let his gaze find Hannah’s, and he watched her lift a trembling hand to her lips.
“This same incredible woman changed the life of a fifteen-year-old angry kid and gave him a reason to breathe. She taught him what it meant to dream and continues to make him a better man just by believing in him.”
The crowd shifted in their seats, clearly curious about what was happening, and as they found Hannah in the stands, whispers and conversation broke out. People in the floor bleachers pivoted to watch and a kaleidoscope of emotions washed over her face. Embarrassment, vulnerability, and hope illuminated her skin as tears cascaded down her porcelain cheeks. But it was the love he saw in her eyes that gave him the confidence to say what he did next.
“Hannah Fisher,” Deacon called over the mic, erasing any mystery surrounding who he was talking about. “I was an idiot. The one thing I never wanted to do was hurt you, but I did that by pushing you away. I’m so sorry, Cherry. Please tell me it’s not too late.”
Smiling, she softly shook her head.
“Good. Thank God, because you’re the reason I get up every morning, Hannah. You’re the reason I ever chased this crazy dream to begin with. I fell in love with you ten years ago, I just didn’t know it. Luckily, I’m a lot smarter now.”
Hannah’s jaw tumbled open as cautious hope filled her face. Deacon glanced back at his friends. One by one they nodded their approval, and beyond them, Sherry and Arabella clasped hands with enormous smiles. This was it. He, the loner who never thought he’d have a family, was about to offer his heart to the woman he loved and hope that she wanted it. He’d never been more terrified in his life. He exhaled a shaky breath, and the sound echoed through the speakers.
Damn. That was embarrassing.
Charlie smirked. “Not as easy as it looks, huh?” he muttered, and Deacon laughed in understanding.
Reaching into his front pocket, he turned back to face Hannah. Her eyes were filled with wonder. His hand closed around what he’d hidden there earlier, and when he bent down on one knee, a collective gasp filled the room.
“Hannah Katherine Fisher, you are my partner and equal in every way. I want to fill your days with passion and excitement, and make you feel as cherished and special as you deserve. I want to make babies with you and help you change the world.” Deacon’s voice broke with so much pride for this woman. She was a powerhouse who was only just beginning to understand her value. “Please, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Hannah covered her mouth with her hands, and the woman to her right nudged her. Deacon recognized Crystal from the church, and she sent him a maniacal grin as she tugged Hannah to her feet.
Visibly shaking, wiping tears, Hannah stared at him like he was a mirage. Deacon held his breath even as his chest burned for oxygen, waiting for her to respond. Finally, the sweetest voice he’d ever heard yelled out one word, crystal clear and hitting him square in the chest.
“Yes!”
The crowd erupted, and Deacon whooped into the microphone. He tossed it back to Tyler and jogged up the bleachers, grateful as people parted the way to make room. At the top, he met Hannah at the railing.
“You mean it?” She bent down and he cradled her sweet, tear-stained face in his hands. “You’ll be mine?” More tears flowed as she nodded, and he brushed a swift kiss across her mouth. “I promise I’ll make you so damn happy.”
A giggle-sob parted her lips. “You already have.” Hannah traced his jaw with her fingertips and looked him straight in the eyes. “I love you, Superman.”
The declaration was like a balm to his soul, filling Deacon until he was near bursting. Unable to contain his emotions without losing it in front of everyone, he pushed up and claimed Hannah’s mouth, sealing their engagement with a promise.