Page 43 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

It was the day before game day, and Shaw got the call earlier that they were going to start him.

As if they flipped a switch, his demeanor changed.

Yes, he’d been back on the practice squad for a little over a week, but still, it seemed fast. His back straightened, and his face became locked in concentration.

He was still affectionate and sweet, but he was focused, and his mind was on the game ahead.

Shaw geared up to head to the hotel for the night, a ritual the players all had to adhere to before a game.

A pit formed in my stomach. I had never been the nervous type.

Hell, I was an athlete myself and had been raised by a man who’d instilled toughness and perseverance in me.

There hadn’t been any whining in my house.

‘Shake it off’ had been the household mantra long before Taylor Swift became a household name.

And now, as an adult, my job was to help people regain strength, recover, and bounce back after injury.

So why did the idea of seeing him on that field cause such a knot in the pit of my stomach?

I’d watched him get hit millions of times and rarely even winced.

I’d seen him break his arm, twist an ankle—hell, I was there when he decimated his collarbone and saw what he went through to recover.

I’d never been squeamish before. But that was the problem.

I knew too much. I knew the impact the game would have on his spine.

I was familiar with his medical record—the concussions, the injuries—and I knew the toll it was taking on his body.

I didn’t want to see him get hurt, and my fear was outweighing my excitement over seeing him play. Was it because of what was between us?

“Hey, hon, I need to get moving. I have to meet with the trainer and a few others before our team meeting,” he said.

He came into the room wearing only a towel while water dripped down his muscular back.

I sat on his bed cross-legged and watched the muscles in his rear flex as he walked into the closet, coming out with a few hangers and throwing them on his bed.

“Don’t give me that look.” He went back into his closet and grabbed a duffel bag.

“What look?” I said, straightening and biting my bottom lip. I knew ‘what look.’

“The one that will make me very late to the stadium and in need of another shower,” he said, bending over and kissing me. I tried to grab onto him, but he pulled away, and I was only able to trace my hand down between his pecs. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

He went to his dresser, discarded his towel, and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs, covering the evidence that I was very close to getting my way.

“Now, you’re not being fair,” I said, giving him my best pout and lying across his bed, my head propped up in my hand.

He side-eyed me and did a double-take, rolling his eyes heavenward. “You’re more tempting than the devil himself.” He drew on his briefs but not without needing a bit of tucking and maneuvering to get everything inside them. He pointed to his groin. “How am I supposed to get dressed like this?”

I shrugged. “You’re the one in the hurry.” I bit my lip again, looking up at him. “I could help you out with that.” I pushed up to my hands and knees.

He took a step back. “No. No. Get back, temptress. I need all my energy. That’s why they make the team stay in hotel rooms the night before a game.”

“It’s stupid. You’re here. You live literally a few blocks from the stadium. Hell, we can see it from your patio.”

“I know, but it’s their rules, and given the paycheck they give me, they’re allowed to make them,” he said, putting on his pants—as if to put another barrier between us. “I promise to make it up to you.”

I leaned back against the headboard, arms and legs crossed.

“That’s fine.” I sighed. “I could use a little relaxation. In fact, I have a few hours before I have to meet Shyla. You have that fantastic, powerful handheld showerhead. I’m sure I could…

” I stared up at him from under my lashes and lowered my voice, “Entertain myself.”

Dead stop. He was halfway into putting on his shirt and stood still, halfway turned away from me. “You wouldn’t.”

A dare? Did he not know me at all?

“Darling, I have years of entertaining myself to draw from. I’m well-versed. Don’t you worry about me.”

“It’s my job to…entertain…you. If that showerhead is going to be used to bring you pleasure, it will be in my hand. Use it without me and see what happens.”

I shrugged. “Okay. There are other ways I can relax, other places…”

“This unit has security cameras throughout so I can check on the place when I’m out of town. You’d be surprised what fans will try to do."

“Well, now you just made it more interesting.”

He pulled me up into his arms so quickly I gasped and let out a squeal when I felt his hardness between us, evidence that the idea was more than a little interesting to him.

He kissed me sweetly. “Wait for me?” he asked with the hint of a plea in his tone.

I traced his jaw. “Always.”

Those important three words were screaming out from inside me, but I refused to let them out. Even though he’d declared he loved me—in front of my father—neither of us had uttered those words to each other—at least not directly.

He kissed my forehead then went into his closet and grabbed his toiletry bag before disappearing into his bathroom. He poked out around the corner. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay with you—believe me.”

“I know,” I said.

“Maybe you and Shyla could do something.”

“I don’t want to burden her. Besides, I think I’ll just take it easy. I don’t get many nights to myself,” I said.

“Okay. I just hate leaving?—”

“I’m a big girl, Shaw,” I said.

He moseyed over to me, his eyes soft. “I know. I just wanted to take advantage of every minute here with you, and I feel like I’m abandoning you.”

“Shyla told me she was going to give me the lowdown on what it was like to be a WAG. I’ll be fine.”

“Did you have fun meeting everyone at dinner?” Shaw was folding some clothes into his bag and making room for his toiletry kit.

“I did. You have some great friends here.” Then, I remembered something Gus had said. “Hey, why does Gus call me Rock Woman?”

Shaw paused his packing and glanced up at me. A blush spread up his neck and to his cheeks.

“Shaw?”

With a hand on his hip and the other one wiping at his brow, he let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“What?” I said, knowing I stumbled on something. “He was saying you were responsible for him being with Mia and something about a rock.”

Shaw slowly moved and sat down beside me. His hand on my knee was a warm assurance.

He let out a big sigh, “Mia and I moved into town around the same time. Gus and his friends are a tight group who all grew up together—like we did—so while we were thankful they befriended us, we were still outsiders. He rubbed my thigh distractingly. “We decided to start hanging out.”

“You dated Mia?” My eyes were frozen open in shock.

“ You dated Mia? For how long? Did you sleep with her?” Green and red alternated as colors that blinded me.

Why did I have to ask that question? I didn’t want to know that answer.

Mia was gorgeous, a natural beauty and nothing like Riley—or me, for that matter.

He let out a breath through his nose. “Yes, we dated. No, we didn’t sleep together. I think we were both lonely, and honestly, she was hung up on Gus, and he had his head up his ass.”

I just stared at him. Was I always going to compare myself to the women he’d been with? God, I hated feeling so damn insecure.

His hand squeezed my knee. “Anyway, watching those two dance around each other reminded me of you and me in a way. Well, him with his head up his ass reminded me of me—being an idiot and not having the balls to lay it all out for you. So…” He let out a pathetic, self-deprecating chuckle as he stood and went to his highboy dresser, opening the top drawer and reaching inside.

“I told Gus to stop being a coward and to go after her. To tell her how he feels before he was left with regrets—like me.” He reached for something inside and came back to the bed.

“I told him my ‘Mia’ was married to another man because I hadn’t had the balls to tell her she was meant to be with me.

” He sat next to me, our thighs touching. “Hold out your hand,” he said softly.

I did.

“I said, ‘Instead of holding her heart in my hands, I was left with this rock,’” he said, handing me a plain, smooth, gray granite rock.

I was immediately transported back in time. I stood quickly with the rock in my hand, studying it as if it were an artifact, long believed lost and forgotten.

“It’s the pet rock I made for you,” I said.

I looked up at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows to his knees, hands clasped together.

It was from the creek on Maeve’s property, where we all used to hang out.

I knew he’d been nervous about leaving for college—about all the expectations set on him—and I’d wanted something he could hold onto, something from home, but not sappy.

I think I drew googly eyes on it at one point and maybe wrote a few inspirational words on the other side. I turned it over. All the writing was long gone. I’d given it to him before we left for college. A little token from home—from me.

“You gave me that rock as a joke, but I held onto it as a talisman, a reminder.” He sat up straight. “It was granite, hard and tough, just like you. It was enduring, just like our friendship. And I held it when I needed a way to center myself, just like you used to do for me.”

He gestured at it. “I carried it with me in my pocket. I got a few strange looks from people in the TSA line at airports, but I just explained it was my lucky charm. No one ever knew the story behind it. That’s why Gus called you my Rock Woman.

He knew you were the one I thought about—the one that got away.

I gripped the rock in my hand, tested its weight, and thought of this man. The rock represented the proof that I’d been in his heart for years. Years he’d wished I’d been there to hold his hand.

A tear ran down my cheek as I stared into a face that had handsomely aged with time. Through the sun-worn skin, small laugh lines, and thicker scruff of beard, I still saw the softened lines of youth that had been there the day I’d given him that rock. I loved him then, and I loved him now.

Holding the rock, I bent over and kissed him, the three words banging incessantly in my head and my heart. I deepened the kiss, throwing my arms around his neck to keep my mouth from uttering them.

His hands roamed up and down my back, then he turned as if to throw me on the bed.

Then his phone rang.

“Goddamn it,” he said. “That’s probably Davy. We are going over together.”

He pushed himself up off me, and the entire time, his eyes blazed with lust. We both lowered our gaze to his groin and made unsatisfied noises.

I stood and helped him zip up his bag while he grabbed his jacket and shoes. “Damn, you look good,” I said.

The smile he shot me while walking out the door was arrogant and sinful. “Hey, I left some gear for tomorrow, in case you forgot to pack anything.” He snuck in one last kiss. “I’ll call you tonight. And Kelce?—”

“Yes?”

“I won’t be very happy if I find out about any ‘self-entertaining.’”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”