Twenty-three

JENSEN

I’d survived the first two weeks of training camp in Mankato. Living in the dorms sucked, although this year a local mattress company had provided all the players with king-sized beds.

My body was strong, healed and ready to hit the field. Not practice. Not training. Real football. Part of me had always known that if I hadn’t had such an amazing season the year I’d gotten injured, the team probably would’ve let me go. So while my teammates bitched about the lousy accommodations, I was just damn glad to be here at all.

Still, I missed Rowan. I missed Calder. I missed the life we’d started to build together. Getting through the season with all the traveling and training would test us as a family unit.

So there was no freakin’ way I’d be late to Calder’s camp performance, because I knew I’d miss his other school events this fall.

When the new assistant coach—assistant to the assistant offensive line coach actually—demanded my presence to go over the days’ training tapes immediately following practice, I said no.

Evidently he hadn’t expected that.

Evidently he believed his power was greater than mine because he started to dress me down. On the field. In front of my teammates.

I walked off.

Evidently he hadn’t expected that either.

Devonte had. I heard him warning Coach Wannabe to back the fuck off.

I managed to make it through a quick shower and was nearly dressed before the HR coordinator approached me in the locker room. Poor sucker did not know what he was in for this season.

“Rocket? I’m Trent from HR and I’m working on transitioning the new coaching staff with our veteran players. Coach Wallaby informed me that you’ve refused to attend the mandatory post-training meeting—”

“Yes, Trent, I did refuse. I’ll watch the tapes next week, but it is not a possibility today.”

“But—”

“And when I attempted to explain to this newbie coach why the meeting was not mandatory for me, he believed the best option was to yell at a veteran player. I opted to walk away at that point as I am under time constraints today.”

Trent shuffled his feet. “Look, between us? This transitional-team stuff wasn’t my idea. But I have to follow through and do my job.”

“Great.” I grinned at him. “Write up Coach Wannabe for verbally abusive behavior. I’ve got witnesses. He knows I did nothing to incur that type of inappropriate response except exercise my right to say no to the meeting.”

“Off the record? Why are you being a dick about this? It’s two freakin’ hours out of your day before you go home for the weekend. Is it really worth the hassle?”

“You want me to play that way? Fine.” I slipped the belt through the first loop on my slacks. “On the record? If you don’t believe I have full veto power of optional preseason meetings with nonessential coaching staff, please have management contact my agent, Peter Skaarn, about contract specifics. He will set them straight, trust me.” No one fucked with my agent. “Off the record? My kid has a performance tonight and there’s no way I’m missing it as it’s already been set around my schedule.”

Trent frowned. “Your kid? Since when do you have a kid, Lund?”

Shit. I screwed that up. “The boy is like a son to me. It’s not something I talk about publicly, but I can trust someone from HR with that confidential information, right?” I had him pinned down and he knew it.

“Whatever. I’ll have to put it in my report.”

“You do what you have to, Trent. I’ll put a call in to my agent so he’ll be able to answer any questions that arise.” I buckled my belt and reached for my duffel bag. “Have a good weekend.”

I texted Astrid to let her know I was on my way. Then I called Rowan, but she didn’t answer. I left a message—G-rated, so Calder could hear me tell him to break a leg. Traffic on 169N out of Mankato was heavy for a Friday as I headed back to the Cities.

Ten million things raced around inside my head and oddly enough, few of them had to do with the upcoming football season.

My entire family would be at the camp recital tonight.

Rowan’s parents would be there as well as Martin. Would it be weird trying to balance it all out?

My phone rang. The ID on the dash display said: ASTRID. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Jens, I forgot something major for tonight. And I’m here doing last-minute checks and run-through and close-outs and I can’t possibly—”

“What do you need?”

“Individually wrapped roses for each one of the campers for when they finish the dance performance. And a bouquet of flowers for the teachers because we are introducing them at the end. Oh and flowers for the camp sponsors. God. I can’t freakin’ believe I forgot that! I’m so sorry.”

“Astrid. Take a deep breath. There’s three hours until showtime. I’ll take care of it.”

“You promise?”

“Yep. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. But I don’t get why I’m so damn nervous.”

“I feel ya. It’s the culmination of everything you’ve worked on the past three months. It’ll feel good to end it, as much as you don’t want it to end.”

“You really are so much more than just a ‘playbook, end zone, taking one for the team’ kind of bonehead jock, Lund.”

“Hang on; let me grab a tissue, because that heartwarming sentiment might lead me to think you were crushing on me. Wait, has being around a real man like me caused you to rethink the whole lesbian thing?”

“And . . . you wrecked it. Get the flowers and don’t be late.” She hung up.

I laughed and some of my tension drained out. Dealing with the flowers? Right up my alley. As a former manwhore, I had several flower shops on speed dial.

•   •   •

I forced myself to stay away from the school until twenty minutes before the program started. While I’d gotten the ball rolling on Camp Step-Up, the credit for its success didn’t belong to me at all. Astrid and Dallas were the real stars.

I parked by the back entrance and opened up the back of my Hummer. After I hauled the flowers backstage, I peeked through the curtain. The entire café-torium was packed. The front row had a RESERVED sign. I managed to snag Astrid’s attention the fourth time she hustled past me. “The flowers are in the back corner.”

She hugged me. “Thank you, thank you. Seriously.”

“Who is handing them out?” Please say me so I can stay back here.

“Jaxson. During your speech and while you’re introducing the staff after the program.”

Panic slammed into me as hard as a hit from J. J. Watt. “You did not tell me I’d be speaking tonight, Astrid.”

“Mr. Lund. Camp Step-Up is your LCCO project and your responsibility. During football season you do at least two national press conferences a week. Millions of people watch you on TV. Why is speaking in front of a hundred and fifty people—mostly children—putting that fear in your eyes?”

Because this time it matters. All the people who matter the most to me in the entire world are here tonight and I don’t want to fuck up.

“You rock at on-the-fly adjustments, Rocket,” she said with a smirk. “You’ll be fine. Just follow your playbook.”

“Hilarious.” I pointed to the reserved seats in the front row. “Are you sitting out there?”

She shook her head. “I’m back here the whole performance. That’s for you. Now shoo. I’m busy.”

I killed another ten minutes moving my car. When I reached the front entrance and heard the excited din, my hand automatically went up to adjust the ball cap . . . that wasn’t there. Dammit. Maybe I should grab the extra one out of my workout bag.

Or maybe everyone already knows who you are and you should just take your seat so the program can get started.

A firm hand swept across my shoulders.

Two weeks I’d been without her touch.

Everything inside me settled and I could breathe again.

Rowan rested her head on my biceps. “You okay, big guy?”

“Antsy. Is Calder nervous? Does he get stage fright?”

She laughed softly. “Are you kidding? The boy is in his element. I’m more worried he’ll deviate from the program and perform a dance solo.”

“I’d be okay with that.”

“The other parents wouldn’t be.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Calder was thrilled about the voice mail. Thanks for letting him know you were thinking about him. It was important to him.”

“He’s important to me.” I angled my neck to kiss the top of her head. “You’re both important to me. You’ve jumped to the top of my newly created list of life priorities.”

“Jens—”

“I love you,” I murmured into her hair. “Most days I don’t know what the hell to do with it, but it’s there. Every day. Without fail.”

She slid her hand from my shoulder and lightly punched my kidney. “Don’t you dare make me cry before this performance even starts, Jensen Bernard Lund.”

I froze. “Where did you hear my middle name?”

“From your mother. But I don’t believe her claim that she named you that because you weighed as much as a full-grown Saint Bernard when you were born.” She nudged me. “Go take your seat. The show starts in five minutes.”

I forced her to meet my gaze. “Aren’t you sitting with me?”

“Nope. I’m in the back with my parents.”

“No, you’re in the front with me. You have the very best seat in the house to video every moment of Calder’s performance.”

Her eyes searched mine. “That’s not fair to the other parents who were here earlier than me.”

I got nose to nose with her. “They wouldn’t even be sitting in the audience if not for you bringing the need for this camp to LCCO’s attention. This time, baby, you get the perks because you deserve it. Now are you walking up there on your own steam? Or am I dragging you?”

When it appeared she intended to argue, I snagged her hand. “Suit yourself. We’ll play it that way.”

“Fine.” Rowan tugged her hand free. “I’ll sit with you. But I need to get the portable battery charger for my phone from my mom. Taking video wears the battery down.”

“I have an extra one right here.” I patted the pocket of my sport coat. “My phone is fully charged too if you need it.”

“You’re prepared. It’s like you’ve done this kid’s program thing before.”

“I wanted to avoid a rookie mistake my first time, so I might’ve gone overboard in the pregame prep.”

She stared at me. “This is why I love you.”

“Because of my sports analogies?” I teased.

“No. Because you always think of someone besides yourself.”

That was the first time in my life I’d ever heard that, but I’d be damn sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Lead the way.”

As soon as we were seated, the lights dimmed. Rowan already had her phone out.

Dallas had done an outstanding job putting the program together. The sets flowed seamlessly from a musical number to a dance number to a combination. In the theatrical production the students’ talents even outshone the visually stunning backdrop that Walker and Trinity had created.

But when Calder was onstage, I didn’t really see anyone else. At age six the boy seemed years ahead, talentwise, of all of the other students.

Or maybe every parent feels that way about their kid.

That thought didn’t startle me. Rowan had raised an amazing little boy and I was so damn proud for both of them that I wanted to burst. I wanted to watch as Calder grew and changed from an amazing boy to an even more amazing young man. I wanted to play a role in making that happen.

The entire thing lasted an hour. As soon as the curtain went down, I snuck around to the side door and slipped backstage.

The blast of energy hit me with the same familiarity as when the team won a game. The arts and sports didn’t seem all that different right then.

Astrid planted herself in front of me and thrust a clipboard at me. “Here’s an alphabetical list of all the students’ names. Read them off one at a time. Then introduce the staff members, do your speech thing and remind the audience all of the kids’ art projects are displayed throughout the first two rooms and there is a reception with snacks in the library.”

I frowned at her. “No offense, Astrid, but I didn’t have a clue there’d be after-program activities. Who planned it?”

“I did. With help from Selka and Edie. And Talia helped out.”

“Talia? As in Calder’s nanny, Talia? Why would she . . . ?”

Astrid blushed.

Guess Astrid had crushed on a woman who crushed on her back.

“Anyway, you weren’t here and I knew it was the type of ‘fussy’ stuff that you didn’t give a damn about anyway—no offense—so I just handled it.”

I grabbed her and hugged her hard. “Astrid, darlin’, you are the bomb. Seriously. I’m writing you the most glowing letter of recommendation the world has ever seen. I swear if you weren’t in college full-time, I’d hire you to be my personal assistant right freakin’ now.”

She started to tear up. Then she caught herself and rolled her eyes. “Dude. You need a PA. And you oughta know that I can get more stuff done in twenty hours a week than most people do in forty.”

“True. We’ll talk next week then. If you’re seriously interested.”

“Deal.” She tried to shove me back. “Now, go do your speechifying and bring the house down because a few reporters set up in the back after the lights came up.”

Great. But it wasn’t anything new to my life. That thought allowed a sense of calm to steal over me.

You got this.

Clipboard in hand, I strode out onto the middle of the stage.

•   •   •

In addition to talking briefly about each kid—with a limited enrollment I had gotten to know them individually—and introducing the camp staff, I brought Aunt Priscilla, Aunt Edie and my mother onto the stage because they deserved recognition for all the good things LCCO did for the community. They even got a little teary eyed when they noticed I’d saved the biggest bouquets for them.

As soon as I finished closing remarks and encouraged everyone to wander the building, the reporters approached me. No matter how many times I tried to redirect, they were focused on getting the story about Camp Step-Up from The Rocket. I kept as much of the conversation away from football as I could.

So I didn’t get to see my family until nearly half an hour later.

The hallway teemed with kids and parents, but I was looking for one kid in particular.

Calder spied me first. The instant he saw me, his face lit up. Then he was running toward me, dodging and weaving through people like I did on the football field—not that I’d make the comparison to his mother—when I had the goal line in my sights.

He threw himself at me and I caught him, crushing him to my chest as he wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed me tight. I closed my eyes and let his excitement and his need to share it with me flow through me.

I’d missed this.

“Did you see me dance?” he demanded.

I propped him on my hip and smoothed his hair back from his face. “Of course I did. I was in the front row.”

He chattered on and I listened with amusement to his analysis of every dance, which also led me to comparisons of how I rehashed a game, discussing the highlights and the mistakes. When he paused to breathe, I said, “You were outstanding, ninja-dance boy.”

“What was your favorite part?”

I grinned at him and kissed his forehead. “Are you kidding me? When you took center stage and performed that move we saw on Dancing with the Stars! How long did it take you to learn it?”

He groaned. “All summer. I thought I’d never get it.”

“Well, it looked like you’ve got it down, little dude, and you know the deal we made. You gotta teach it to me.”

“’Kay.”

Calder rested his head on my shoulder. “Seems like you were gone a loooong time. Are you done with football camp?”

“Almost.”

“I’m glad you were surprised, Rocketman. Mommy was too.”

“She didn’t know you were working on that move?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to do it just for you.”

I couldn’t speak around the lump in my throat. I kissed the crown of his sweaty head. I glanced up to see everyone in my family—and Rowan’s family—watching me.

Let them stare. This is you proving you give a damn about someone besides yourself and something beyond football.

Then I didn’t see anything else as my beautiful Rowan walked toward me, a soft smile on her face. She pressed her palm against my chest and rubbed Calder’s back. “You okay, sweet boy?”

“Uh-huh.”

I said, “I’m good too.”

When she said, “You sure? You want me to take him?” Calder burrowed deeper into me.

“Nope.”

“You got waylaid for a while with the media. Is everything all right?”

“We’ll see how it shakes out tomorrow.”

“Come on, everyone is waiting to talk to the man of the hour.” She gently nudged me toward our assorted family members.

“Hear that, Calder? Everyone is talking about that fancy-ass dance move you did.”

He giggled. “No. They’re talkin’ about you, silly. And you’re not s’posed to say the A-word, remember?”

“My bad.”

For the next half an hour as I talked with the Lund Collective, as well as the Michaels family, Calder refused to let go of me. With all the noise around us, it surprised me to look down and see Calder’s mouth slack and soft snores drifting out as he drooled on my shoulder. I grinned at Rowan. “Like mother, like son, huh?”

She whispered, “I drool on you for another reason entirely, Lund.”

“But you conk out just like this after I wear you out,” I murmured back.

She rested her head on my arm. “Can we go home now? I missed you.”

I kissed her temple. “Let’s say our good-byes.”

Rowan’s parents were staying in the Cities another day, so we made plans for a late dinner. And the Lund Collective insisted on changing the normal Sunday brunch time to an early-evening meal so I could come with Rowan and Calder.

We walked outside with my parents and Martin. The humidity had dissipated, leaving it a beautiful, balmy night.

Martin and Dad were laughing sort of hysterically about something that I didn’t want to know about. Rowan was readjusting Calder’s car seat. Leaving me with my mom.

She brushed my hair out of my face. I was twenty-eight years old and she still fussed at me. “Is this a bruise?” she demanded in Swedish when she noticed the spot on my cheekbone.

“Yeah. I got smacked kinda hard in practice today.”

“I always hated that part of football.”

“Getting pounded into the dirt isn’t my favorite part either.” Such a lie. I loved that.

“No, I meant the marks you’ve been getting since you were boy of ten.” She ran the back of her finger over the spot. “Bumps, bruises, even broken bones. You loved the game so much that I had to hide my tears from you over every bump, bruise and broken bone. I had to pretend I didn’t hurt to watch you training and playing when you were in pain. I had to suck it up and be proud, smiling mama on the outside when you caught the ball but took a hit hard enough to rattle your brain. I had to cheer when I watch you block and save a play but I see blood on your uniform and you limping off the field. I see you work harder and harder to become better, faster, stronger. I watch you become more football machine than man. I watch and I wait and I hope in silence for the day to come when there’s no more bumps, no more bruises, no more blood, no more broken bones . . . no more hurting for you, even knowing, as your mama, that when that end day does come, it will hurt you more than any bone-rattling, jaw-cracking body slam you’ve ever felt.”

I stared at her in utter shock. It was more than she had ever said about me playing football, not about my football career. It never occurred to me how much courage both she and my dad had to let me walk onto that field every time, knowing I’d be hurt every time.

“I will be good mama, supportive mama until that day comes, Jensen. I feel pride for all you have done. But know, in your heart, as I know in mine, that it is not all you can do.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I’m told . . . hate the game, dude, not the player.”

“Mom.”

“Fine, I say nothing before because I get in trouble when being meddlesome botherer in your life. “

I snorted.

“But I’m telling you now mostly because I love you.” She straightened my collar. “And maybe you’re ready to hear it.” She smiled softly at Calder. “He is sweet boy.”

“Yeah. He is.”

“Too bad you don’t want more than friends with his mother, yah?”

“You’re always going to rub that in, aren’t you?”

She smiled cockily and for the first time I realized I’d gotten that cocky damn smile from her. She patted my cheek. “Still my sweet, strong boy, Jensen Bernard Lund. You will make sweet, strong father. And you will make lots more sweet, strong boys for me to be meddlesome botherer with.” She kissed my cheek and then Calder’s before she turned and walked away, yelling at my father to get the head out.

I started to correct her: You mean . . . head out? Or get the lead out? But . . . nah.

Rowan moved in beside me. “Do I even want to know what your mother’s flurry of Swedish was about?”

“Nope. But it’s all good. I promise.”

Martin wandered over and lifted Calder out of my arms.

I wasn’t nearly as startled by that as Calder was. He blinked sleepily at his uncle and then at Rowan. “Mommy?”

“Hey, little dude,” Martin said. “Guess what? You and me are havin’ a sleepover in Jensen’s apartment. I already spread your sleeping bag out on that big couch, I got Lilo and Stitch and The Secret Life of Pets cued up in the Blu-ray. I got us cheese popcorn, red licorice and grape soda. It’s gonna be party in the USA, man.”

“But . . . I wanted to read Harry Potter tonight,” Calder said to me.

“Tomorrow night we’ll read as many chapters as you want. I promise.”

He turned his teary eyes to his mother. “But, Mommy, I thought I was gonna be with you . . .”

I expected her to give in.

But she didn’t. “Uncle Martin has been planning this surprise for you for two days. I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin it.”

He looked at Martin skeptically.

“We’ve got some serious chillin’ in front of the TV to do and . . .” Martin whispered something in his ear.

Calder grinned. “Super Mario Brothers!”

“Gotta learn the life of a gamer sometime, amirite? Tell your mommy and Jens good night.”

After a round of hugs and kisses, we watched as Martin strapped him into the car seat and drove away.

“God, I love that kid.”

Rowan stepped in front of me and twined her arms around my neck. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to hear you say that.” Then she pulled my head down and fastened her mouth to mine in a wet, dirty kiss. She murmured, “How fast you think you can get us home?”

Turned out when properly motivated, my Hummer could give my ZR1 a run for its money.