Game for Tonight (17 page)

“Yes, it definitely matters. Because if he was the one who broke up with you, then he’s a jerk, and I’m being kind.” Willow’s eyes narrowed in that way they did when she was being uber-perceptive. Aubrey hated when she did that, especially right now when she was drunk and sick to her stomach from too much ice cream and feeling extravulnerable. “But if you’re the one who dumped him, and now you’re sitting here drowning your sorrows in a disgusting concoction—that I provided; I know I’m guilty—then I’m going to ask you a simple question.”

“What’s your simple question?” Aubrey mumbled.

“Why?” Willow yelled the word, startling a shriek out of Aubrey. For such a tiny thing, she sure was loud. “Why would you dump him? I thought you liked him.”

“I did. I do like him. I tried to convince him of that, but he wouldn’t listen.” She sighed. “It just wouldn’t work between us. I know it wouldn’t.”

“Because he’s getting traded?”

Aubrey’s entire body went cold. “How did you know?” she breathed.

Willow shrugged. She sat curled up in the overstuffed chair across from Aubrey’s couch, perfectly composed despite the copious amounts of wine she’d consumed. “It’s unspoken knowledge. Everyone knows.”

“Even Flynn?”

“
Especially
Flynn, but he’s not talking about it. He can’t think about that right now. He has a play-off game to concentrate on like the rest of them.” Willow said this like Aubrey should already know.

And she did already know. “There’s more,” she admitted, her voice soft, her thoughts in total chaos. Willow would hate her. Everyone would hate her. She’d pretended to like Flynn for selfish reasons while he’d thought what they’d shared had been real. She’d been trying to keep her job intact, and he’d been trying to convince her they made a great couple.

“More what?” Willow asked.

“Harvey made me pretend to be in a relationship with Flynn, because I was stupid enough to let go for one night so I could fool around with him. I pretended to be Flynn’s girlfriend, all while he thought it was for real.” She wanted more wine, needed more wine to get the rest of it out. “Harvey said if I didn’t do it, he’d let me go. And if I did do it, he’d give me a promotion.”

Willow scowled. She reached down and grabbed the pillow Aubrey just threw onto the floor and punched it once, twice, scaring the hell out of Aubrey. “Harvey Price is an asshole,” she murmured, looking murderous. “You’re going to need to do serious damage control.”

“How?”

“Go to Flynn. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him again how you really feel about him. I’m guessing earlier he wasn’t listening to you because all he could hear were the words ‘fake’ and ‘pretend.’”

Aubrey shook her head and hiccupped. “I’ll say something I might regret.”

“Better than saying nothing at all?”

“I don’t want to break his concentration,” Aubrey said, her excuse feeble, even to her own ears.

“Please. He’s probably not going to play this weekend,” Willow said. “Jared’s shoulder is much better.”

“I heard that. He’s doing all right?”

“Oh yeah, he’s feeling good. On top of it. Though with Sheridan pregnant, he’s—” Willow covered her mouth with her hand, the word “pregnant” dropping like a bomb in the middle of the room.

Shock reverberated through her. Well, that was news to her. “Are you serious?” Aubrey asked.

“Oh my God, please don’t say anything. Please, please, please. That’s why Sheridan hasn’t been feeling very well and she hasn’t come to the games. She’s so sick, like all the time. Morning sickness for her is more like morning, noon, and night.” Willow tilted her head back and sighed.

“I won’t utter a word, I swear,” Aubrey promised, trying to ignore the sadness that wanted to consume her. She wanted to be happy for her friends. Willow was madly in love with Nick. Sheridan was going to have Jared’s baby. And she was alone with only wine and ice cream.

The relief on Willow’s face was evident. “Thank you. Seriously, you’re saving my ass.”

“You saved my ass by bringing this.” Aubrey lifted her glass. Willow’s gaze tracked her every movement as she polished off half of the contents in a couple of swallows.

She stared into her glass. Damn it, she was drunk. Drunk on sadness and wine and ice cream. Her vision blurred and she blinked. Hard. Bringing Willow back into focus. “I miss him.”

“You weren’t in a real relationship. Well, he was, but you weren’t.”

Aubrey threw her hands up into the air, almost spilling the carton of ice cream that was nestled next to her on the couch. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t have real feelings for him. I’m in love with him, okay?”

“Ah ha!” Willow thrust her spoon in Aubrey’s direction. “I knew it.”

“Yeah, you knew it because I just told you,” Aubrey said miserably.

“You’ve never come right out and said it, though.” Willow smiled smugly. “I’m so glad you can finally admit this to yourself.”

“Yeah, after it’s over. I’m a failure when it comes to relationships.” Aubrey pressed her lips together as she faced her reality. When it came to having a boyfriend, she was an epic failure. She couldn’t keep one. Couldn’t even keep the fake one she had. The nice one. The sweet, sexy one—the boyfriend who’d been a virgin until they’d had sex.

She’d taken his virginity and she’d still managed to lose him.

“I don’t have a magic vagina,” she said morosely.

Willow burst out laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Aubrey shot Willow an evil glare, but she still laughed. Rude. “My friend and I used to joke about it when we were in high school. Some girls always had a boyfriend. It was so effortless, you know? They just…always seemed to have some hot dude on their arm.”

“Okay.” Willow drew the word out, like she might be thinking Aubrey had lost her mind.

“One day my friend decided that women like that, they must have magic vaginas. Ones that send out some sort of crazy, magical vibe or something. And they drew men unwillingly. Like, these guys had no idea that they were being sucked in by the power of the vagina. It just happened.”

“That’s the craziest crap I think I’ve ever heard,” Willow said.

“I know. But I think it’s true. And I definitely don’t have one.” At Willow’s confused look, Aubrey continued. “A magic vagina. Clearly mine is devoid of all magic. I had an ex-boyfriend, Derek. He broke up with me and hooked up with some girl, and now they’re getting married. I saw it on Facebook. I congratulated him in the comments.” She regretted that tremendously, but once she’d hit enter, she couldn’t undo it. Well, she could, but there was the off chance that someone had seen the comment and would realize she was deleting it like a coward. No way was she going to do that.

“First, your ex sounds like a douche. You should be glad you’re rid of him. Second, there is no such thing as a magical vagina.” Willow shook her head. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your vagina—and I can’t believe I’m saying this. But seriously. Stop beating yourself up, and do something about it. Go to Flynn, and tell him you’re sorry. Tell him you love him.”

“I tried to tell him, but he walked,” Aubrey said.

“Did you really tell him you loved him? Did you use those exact words?”

She slowly shook her head, feeling like an idiot.

“Okay. Own up to it, then. Go back to him, and beg his forgiveness,” Willow said.

“I’m scared he’ll turn me away without letting me explain,” Aubrey said, her voice small.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Fine. You want to wallow in your misery, then wallow in it. Make this decision tomorrow. You’re too drunk and traumatized to be rational.”

“I’m rational.” Aubrey nodded, a little hiccup escaping her. She covered her mouth. Lord, she really was drunk. Maybe she should lay off the wine. And the ice cream. That was a surefire combo to fatness, if she didn’t watch it.

“No. You are not,” Willow said firmly.

Whatever. “Men suck. They need to get over all that magic-vagina business.”

“Okay, I’m done trying to explain stuff to you tonight,” Willow said with a laugh. “Got any more wine around here?”

Bad idea. No more wine. But it was like her mouth wasn’t listening to her brain. “I’m sure I do.”
Be a voice of reason, Aubrey.
“Don’t you have to drive yourself home?”

Willow smiled. “We could have a slumber party. Order pizza and watch shitty movies on Lifetime. Maybe I should call Sheridan and see if she wants to hang out with us for a little while. Sans the wine, though, since…you know.”

“I know. And that sounds perfect.” Willow really was a good friend. “You don’t mind staying the night?”

“Not at all. I already told Nick I might. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Thank goodness for friends. Not so much for fake boyfriends, though.

Especially ones that a girl could fall in love with.

Chapter Sixteen

Super Bowl Sunday, and Aubrey felt like she was going to lose her mind.

They’d made it. The Hawks were in the Super Bowl, just like they’d imagined. She was thrilled. Everyone involved with the team was beyond thrilled, and she was at the most coveted football game of the year.

Everyone from the Hawks organization was here, excited to be a part of football history and eager to watch the game. Not Aubrey. Well, she wanted to watch, but she had ulterior motives for being here. Hence the reason she felt like she was losing her mind. She was a representative of the Hawks, hanging out in their special box, watching all the pregame festivities, but she was distracted.

Since the so-called breakup, she’d been plagued with worry. Questions. A desperate need to explain herself and make it up to him. She’d sent Flynn exactly one text and left him exactly one voicemail. He hadn’t answered either, so she’d left him alone.

And mourned.

Where was Flynn today? Right now? How was he feeling? She was desperate to see him but didn’t want to push her luck by seeking him out, because what if he rejected her? Was mean to her in front of everyone?

She didn’t know if she could take it. So she stayed away.

“Aubrey.”

At the sound of Harvey’s grave voice, she whirled around, sucking in a sharp breath when she noticed his somber expression. Not what she wanted to see before their team went out on the field. “Harvey. What’s wrong?”

“I need your help.” He never said he needed her help. And he never rubbed his hand over his face, either, but he was doing exactly that. He looked strung tight, his shoulders tense, his jaw firm.

“What is it?” She took a few steps toward him. Had something happened? It had to be bad. Really bad. Was someone hurt?

“It’s Sheridan Quinn.” His mouth formed a thin line, and when he spoke, it was like his lips barely moved. “She’s in a hospital back in California. Something…happened. She’s, uh…”

“Pregnant?” Aubrey finished for him, clamping her lips shut the moment the word left her. Damn it, Willow was going to kill her for revealing that bit of news.

“Right. Pregnant.” He nodded. He already knew. Of course. “Quinn’s on the plane headed back to be with her right now.”

“But…” Aubrey’s jaw dropped open. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, Quinn’s on a plane? He’s supposed to be down in the locker room, ready to run out onto the field. The game is going to start in”—she glanced over her shoulder and checked the countdown clock on the JumboTron before she turned back to face Harvey—“less than ten minutes.”

“In seven minutes, to be exact.” Harvey swiped his face with his hand again. Man, he looked bad. Like he’d gone into total-panic, stress mode. Normally always in one of his fancy suits, he’d decided to show a little game pride today by wearing jeans and a Hawks jersey with his own last name on the back—figured. “But yes. He’s on the plane, headed back to his wife during her time of need. This means that…”

“Flynn is going to play the entire game.” Her mouth hung open, shock coursing through her veins like sludgy ice. Slowly she shook her head, still gaping at Harvey as the enormity of what was about to happen hit her. “Holy shit, Harv. He’s going to play the Super Bowl.”

Her boss winced. He really hated it when anyone called him Harv. “I know. I know.” Now he was rubbing the back of his neck, grimacing. “Come with me, Aubrey. We need to go make some quick announcements. Help me come up with the right thing to say.”

Wild. Harvey was actually asking for her help? He was the word man. The strategist. But right now…

He looked pretty lost.

Tamping down the swirl of excitement and worry that pulsed through her, she followed Harvey through the plush box, noticing how the entire mood of the room had become quiet. Somber. Worried.

Willow rushed toward her, sadness etched in her features so deeply Aubrey had to stop and grab hold of her, offering her a quick hug. “She’ll be all right,” Aubrey murmured close to her friend’s ear.

“She was bleeding,” Willow whispered, not pulling away. Wanting to keep this bit of information between themselves. “She was supposed to fly out yesterday evening to join us here, but she called Jared at the last minute and said she wasn’t feeling well. He’s been losing his mind with worry. I don’t think he got any sleep. She’d been experiencing a lot of pain and wouldn’t go to the doctor until finally…finally, she saw blood and freaked out.”

If Sheridan lost the baby, she didn’t know what Jared would do. They hadn’t made any public announcements yet, so she could assume only that they’d been waiting to make sure everything was good to go. And now look. How could they explain to the media that Sheridan Quinn had a medical emergency that was more important than the damn Super Bowl, without saying exactly what had happened?

“When did she go into the hospital?” Aubrey withdrew slightly from Willow, still holding her shoulders as she ignored Harvey’s mounting impatience. They were running out of time, she knew it, but she needed to hear what Willow had to say.

“This morning. Jared got on the plane not even an hour ago.” Willow closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “I’m so worried. I hope she’ll be okay. Nick said Jared looked so pale. I wish someone could’ve flown with him.”

“She’ll be fine. He’ll be fine, too. Jared is going to her and will be with her soon. They’ll get through this.” Aubrey’s voice was firm, as were her hands as she gave Willow a little shake before she released her. “I’ll be back.”

Aubrey strode toward the door, Harvey falling into step beside her. “You handled that well.”

“Willow’s a good friend. And she’s Sheridan’s best friend.” And Aubrey adored Sheridan, too. She’d come over during the infamous wine-and-ice-cream night, laughing with them as they’d eaten pizza and watched really bad movies on TV. Her two new friends had helped her forget momentarily her misery over ending it with Flynn. She’d desperately needed that.

And now Sheridan was suffering. She could be losing… No. Aubrey shook her head. She couldn’t bear to even think it. More like she needed to focus on what must be said.

Jared had left. He hadn’t abandoned his team. He’d gone to be with his wife. His family. That was the most important fact. This was about a man needing to be with the ones who mattered the most to him. No more, no less.

“We need to focus on three things,” she told Harvey as they walked.

“And what are they?” he asked.

She held out one finger, never breaking her stride. Neither did Harvey. “Quinn did not abandon his team.” Out went the second finger. “Right now, he and Sheridan deserve privacy and respect. We won’t release any personal information until he gives us the go-ahead. That’s imperative above all else.” And the third finger flew out. “We need to make a big deal about Flynn playing this game. That he has the support of the entire Hawks organization behind him. And that we believe he will take us to another Super Bowl win.”

“Perfect.” Harvey nodded once, the first glimmer of a smile curling his lips. “I’ve trained you well.”

She rolled her eyes as they exited the box and came to an abrupt stop at the wall of reporters and photographers standing before them. “Guess we’re already on,” she muttered beneath her breath before she turned on her bright, for-the-public smile. “Good afternoon, everyone. I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on with the Hawks starting lineup…”

…

“Have you been paying attention, son? I think you’ve figured out by now that you’re going to have to step in for Quinn.”

Flynn stared at Coach Walsh, his mind turning over what the man had just said. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t freaking believe it. “Are you serious?” he asked hoarsely, clearing his throat.

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared. Yeah, he’d practiced like crazy with the rest of the team the past two weeks, but he couldn’t play the entire game. This was the freaking Super Bowl, the mother of all games.

Please. He was having a dream. Had to be.

“You’re serious,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded. He felt like his insides had turned into a death-defying amusement park full of roller coasters.

Walsh didn’t even flinch. “As a heart attack. Quinn’s on a plane headed back to California to be with his wife right now. This game is on you.” Walsh shoved Flynn’s shoulder, not that he moved much, what with his protective gear on. “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

And with that, his coach turned away and headed out of the locker room.

Holy hot damn. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. About as real as it could get. He’d thrown himself into practice, trying to forget what happened between him and Aubrey. Then, a few days ago, Hamilton even had the nerve to say he wanted to kick Flynn’s ass, since Aubrey had been crying over him for two days straight.

That had blown Flynn’s mind. Why was she crying? Maybe when she said she’d felt something for him, she’d been telling the truth.

Maybe it had been as real for her as it was for him.

He’d promised himself he would go to her as soon as the season was over, if she was even willing to see him. He’d told Nick that, too, who’d seemed appeased, but damn. It was one bombshell on top of another. And he had to focus on the game. His team was counting on him.

He slammed his locker shut with a loud clang and started to head out of the room, but Nick stopped his progress.

“Time to step it up, Golden Boy,” Nick drawled. Flynn could tell Hamilton was trying to act like this was any other day, any other game where he’d give him an endless amount of shit. But he saw the worry in the man’s eyes. He looked freaked.

“What exactly happened?” Flynn asked as they both exited the locker room. The noise got louder. Deafening. He could hear the crowds cheering in the stadium, every single one of his Hawks teammates was standing nearby, the majority of them looking at him expectantly.

He was their leader now. Temporarily stepping in to take Quinn’s place. The man they all admired. The man all of the NFL admired.

Flynn needed to prove once and for all that
he
was starting material.

“Sheridan is having—medical problems.” Nick made a face, one that said he was keeping a secret. That’s all right. Flynn wouldn’t prod. “It’s not looking good. Quinn said he had to be with her, so he left. No one argued. Makes me think it’s pretty damn serious.”

Flynn felt bad. Sheridan was a sweet woman, and he wouldn’t wish ill will on her or Quinn. He admired the man tremendously. He hoped she would be okay. “That’s awful.”

“It is,” Nick agreed grimly. “So you’re going to be our fearless leader today, Foley. I’ll help you.” They approached the rest of the team, all of them shifting aside so Nick and Flynn could join them. “We’ll all help you and support you. We’re here for you. But you gotta act like a leader, asshole. You gotta show us you were made to do this. This is your moment, and it’s our moment, too. We need to go out there and kick some ass.”

Okay. Nick was pumping him up, and hell if it wasn’t working. He stood taller, let his gaze track every one of the faces of his team members. They were all keyed up, they were worried that their quarterback left them, and they were looking at the second string to make things all better.

Resolve straightened his spine, and Flynn nodded. “I’m doing it. We all ready to do it?”

“Hell, yeah,” they yelled in a chorus of deep male voices.

Nick thrust his finger in Flynn’s face, his expression serious, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination Flynn usually saw only out on the football field. “If you mess this up, I will tear your fucking face off, Foley. I mean it.”

Huh, well there’s a way to motivate him. “Got it,” he said with a nod.

“I’m still pissed that you messed up what you had with Aubrey. That girl is brokenhearted,” Nick continued.

Aw, hell no. They were not having this conversation again, especially not right before the game. Talk about screwing with his concentration. “I told you what happened, Hamilton,” Flynn muttered. “And after what you said, I’m going to try and make it right with her. After the game, though.”

“Really?” Nick scratched his chin, then grinned. “Well, you need to show Aubrey what you’re made of out on that field, Foley.”

Didn’t anyone get it? What he had with Aubrey wasn’t about football. He didn’t want Aubrey to be with him because of what he did. He wanted her to be with him because of who he was. He was freaking in love with her, and yeah, so she’d been crying. That tore him up and confused him. He wanted to try and work it out, but he was also leery.

But you have to understand that it was real for me, too. Every bit of it.

He couldn’t get those last words out of his mind. Did she really mean that? That it had been real for her, too? Nick said she did, but how did he really know? Flynn had been so pissed in the actual moment, he hadn’t really heard her then. The words had only sunk in a few days later, but how could he go to her and ask what she meant by them? What if she threw them back in his face?

No way could he have risked it. Not at the moment. Too much was at stake, namely his career. He’d once again put football first, but had that cost him the love of his life?

Fuck. He didn’t know.

Flynn rubbed at his chest. Just hearing Aubrey’s name filled him with a sweet ache that he couldn’t deny. Despite his lingering anger and confusion, he missed her, more as every day passed by. She’d left him a text and a voicemail, but that had been early days, when he’d been pissed, so he’d ignored them both. Stupid move. One he couldn’t take back.

No matter how much he wished he could. But that was life. Maybe it was best. Maybe he needed to move on.

Without Aubrey.

The announcements were starting, and the crowd became even louder, if that was even possible. It was time for the team to run out onto the field. Time for the game to start. Breathing deep, Flynn shoved his helmet on and listened as they announced Jared Quinn wouldn’t be playing today due to a family medical emergency. That Flynn Foley would be taking his place as starting quarterback.

It was his time to shine and, by God, he wasn’t going to waste a moment.