Chapter 34 Luc
THIRTY-FOUR
LUC
“Will you leave those alone,” AJ snaps, slapping my hand.
I look down and realize I’ve been worrying at the healing scabs across my knuckles again, dragging a thumbnail over the rough edges until little spots of red bloom.
It’s a bad habit I’ve picked up since busting my knuckles open on a wall a few days ago.
I curl my fist shut and lean back in the leather seat of the team plane.
AJ doesn’t stop staring. “You’re gonna open ‘em up again and get blood everywhere,” he says, crunching his nose.
“At least I didn’t break anything,” I mutter, opening and closing my fist.
“Like that reporter’s face?” AJ jokes, his voice too loud over the engine hum and soft hiss of the cabin’s A/C vents overhead.
I huff a humorless laugh and let my head fall against the headrest. The truth is, I came close to doing something I never thought I’d do.
I’m twenty-seven and I’ve never been in an actual fistfight.
I’ve certainly never in my life resorted to violence because someone pissed me off.
But one more cheap shot about Jesse, about how he’s ruining my career, about those damn videos or how I feel having my family know what kind of debauchery I engage in. Yeah, I lost it.
Monty and AJ pulled me away just in time, and I was able to take my anger out on some drywall instead.
To put it mildly, it hasn’t been a good couple of weeks.
When Talia got hurt, I thought my heart was going to stop.
Seeing so many missed calls from my dad during weight training and then hearing Shawna’s frantic voice repeating, “She’s fine, she’s fine, but some asshole with a camera ran her off the road.
” That was easily the worst moment of my life.
If Jesse’s security hadn’t stepped in after, gotten them to a private room and locked the place down, I don’t know what would’ve happened.
I haven’t talked to Jesse since that night at the hospital.
I’ve spent just about every minute outside of practice and Super Bowl preparations staring at my phone, willing it to ring.
I’ve almost sent him a thousand texts, almost called him to beg him to reconsider, because even two weeks without him is excruciating.
What he said at the hospital made sense. And I can see the logic behind keeping a low profile until things are calmer. But does a low profile have to mean no contact?
I’ve been trying to respect the space he asked for, even if he only asked for my own sake and I don’t want it. If he wants to wait until after the Super Bowl–fine. But I’m walking out of that stadium with him whether he likes it or not.
While I haven’t been talking to Jesse, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping up with him.
After about the third day of no calls from him, I called Naz.
He told me Jesse thinks he’s doing the right thing to keep me safe, but that his worry and sadness have him in a bad place.
I’m more than a little worried he’s going to keep running from me, but I can’t let that happen.
I need to find a way to show him that I’m serious.
Mr. Holland, Naz and the other guys, his security detail, and his mom are all on my side, not only keeping an eye on Jesse in case he’s spiraling, but helping me plan how to corner him.
Because he can’t ignore me in person. In a few short hours, we’ll be in the same city. In two days, the same stadium.
“So what’s the plan?” AJ asks casually, like this isn’t the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.
“Naz and Mr. Holland are going to keep him busy after the game. I’ll need you to cover for me, so I can disappear and get to him before he tries to leave. Cory is going to instruct the security teams to help me get to him.
AJ studies me for a beat, then nods once. Approval, maybe even respect. “Good.”
I glance down at my hands again. “I know Jesse thinks he’s sparing me from something, but it’s not worth losing what we have.”
“The press will die down eventually,” AJ says, although I’m not sure he believes it. I’m not sure I do, either.
For the first time, I don’t care. I don’t care what any of them see or think or say.
I care about the way I feel when we’re together, about the way he looks at me and treats me like I’m the only thing that matters.
The last week and a half without him has only made that more apparent, and I’ll do what it takes to keep him in my life.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say firmly. “I’m not letting them take this from me.”
AJ smirks faintly. “That’s my boy. Too bad we don’t have more time. Can you imagine what it would be like to stage one of those flash mobs in the middle of the Super Bowl?” His eyes gleam.
“I’m pretty sure that would get us kicked out of the game.”
AJ laughs. “I don’t know, man. The whole world saw Jesse’s dick and what it gets up to and they still didn’t fire him from the Half Time Show. That’s how fucking famous he is dude.”
I try to ignore the reference about what exactly the whole world saw. “I’m not sure Jesse’s fame extends to the rest of us.”
He shrugs. “The things we do for love, right? You gotta do what you gotta do. Jesse seems like a grand gestures kind of guy. And with everything that’s happened, I think maybe showing him just how little you care about public opinion could be what breaks him.”
“Have you been talking to Shawna?” I ask dubiously.
“No. Why? Did she talk about me? What did she say?”
I roll my eyes and ignore him. Shawna is on board the grand public gesture train, too.
“They fly in tomorrow, right? If you’re not gonna propose to Jesse, can I propose to Shawna instead? It’s really a shame to waste the opportunity.”
“It’s like you want to get kicked out of the game,” I say, laughing.
Then again, I did say to my whole family and AJ that I cared more about getting Jesse back than I did winning the Super Bowl. I even got a hmph of approval from my dad.
They’ll all be there for Sunday’s game. Even dad, who grumbled about my life and job being a circus, is coming. He, Shawna, my sisters, Luc’s mom, and a buttload of security will all be there cheering me on and there as moral support while I try to win my man back.
I’ve got a plan, and I’m ready. Jesse thinks pushing me away protects me. He doesn’t know I’m done hiding.
No leak, no headline, no paparazzi is going to ruin this. Not for me. Not for him.