One

Chapter Forty-One

THE FUTURE

LAKE

Dr. Feltz kicked Cage out of the ICU that afternoon and told him to take his following with him—in the nicest way possible.

A number of players’ wives and coaches’ wives reached out to me offering their support, letting me know Cage would most likely try to distance himself from me while he dealt with the physical and emotional ramifications of his injury.

Cage? Nope. When someone loves you so completely, it’s almost heartbreaking.

Cage Monaghan loved me like that. Being loved and trusted unconditionally by him was one of the greatest honors of my life.

We didn’t need generic wedding vows that promised love in sickness and health.

The day he arrived in Beijing something unspoken passed between us—something that said we would always go to the ends of the earth for each other.

“Home.” Cage grinned as Rob and Flint walked beside him to the door, just in case.

After seven days in the hospital, he was released. Surgery was still a possibility to fuse two of his vertebrae, but we had second, third, and all the way to twentieth opinions to get before he would consider “going under the knife.”

One day.

One step at a time.

“Okay…” Cage sighed as he sank into the leather sofa “…everyone can leave, at least for a few hours. No offense, but I’ve been fussed over for a week straight, and I just want to not be the center of attention for a bit. Okay?”

My family left three days earlier. Brooke and Rob sent the girls home with Cage’s grandparents two days after the accident so they could get back to school. Therefore “everyone” was Flint, Brooke, Rob, and … me.

Brooke gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll grab some dinner and run to the store to restock your fridge.”

“Thanks.” He returned an appreciative smile.

“I’ll call you in the morning and let you know your schedule.” By schedule Flint meant his doctors’ appointments and therapy appointments.

“Thanks, Flint.”

After everyone else left, I jabbed my thumb behind me, not having any clue where I was going to go. “So … I’ll just … um …”

“Lake?”

“Yeah?” Wringing my hands together, I smiled.

“Get your ass over here.”

“But you said—”

“What I said was code for ‘Get the hell out of here so I can be alone with my Lake.’ Now, take off your shoes, ditch the leg if you want, clothing is optional and actually quite discouraged.”

I laughed. “I think your eyes are bigger than your appetite. It winded you to walk from the car to the couch. Your balance is still a bit off. Yet … you think you can handle me?” I sat next to him.

He lifted his arm over me, but even that looked like its own feat. “Handle you, finger you … your choice.”

“Shut up … how can you be so chipper?”

“Well, there’s you. I’m above ground. I can walk without an ‘exoskeleton’ of Thad’s. I have a Super Bowl win and an MVP trophy too. And now the pressure of that life is gone. I can work my ass off to recover, marry the woman who owns my heart, and spend the rest of my life knocking her up.”

I scooted to the side to look at him. “What do you mean the pressure of that life is gone?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m … not playing again.”

“What? The doctors … your coaches … all the talk has been about what it will take to get you back on the field. That’s why they’ve arranged for a million different opinions from the best doctors in the country. When did you tell them you’re not playing anymore?”

“I haven’t. I’m telling you now. I’m telling you first.”

My jaw hung in midair.

“You can’t possibly want me to play again.”

I didn’t. That was a fact. So why was I in such shock?

I expected his plans of playing again to be a fight between us.

He took that away, and I felt like someone standing to give a speech and having the teleprompter quit working.

All I had to say was, “I’m so relieved.” Three words.

Instead, the Devil himself hijacked my brain to play devil’s advocate.

“You love the game. How can you just give it up? Players get hurt all the time. It’s part of the game. You know that. You’ve said it yourself a million times. Your team doctor said the chances of you being cleared to play next year are really good. This is your dream.”

Wow. What the hell, Lake!

Cage’s wide eyes said it all—I’d lost it. And I had. I just said everything I’d prepared for him to say to me.

“You want me to play again?”

No. The answer was no.

Say it, Lake. NO! Just say, no!

“Maybe … I mean…” I shook my head “…I don’t know. It’s not my decision to make.”

“It’s our decision. This affects us, not just me.”

“I can’t make this decision.”

“But you’re trying.”

I shook my head. “I’m not.”

“Well, I just told you I’m not planning on going back and instead of relief … elation … I saw this epic disappointment on your face. Am I not appealing without my NFL status?”

“That’s not fair. You know the answer to that.” I stood, pacing the room to release some of the tension.

“Jesus, Lake. You saw everything before it fucking happened!”

“Exactly!” I stopped, fisting my hands at my sides.

“And with Ben I saw nothing. For every right decision in my life there’s been ten wrong ones that felt just as right at the time I made them.

I didn’t just lose my boyfriend and my leg.

I lost my intuition, my confidence on a level far deeper than what meets the eye, and my instincts are shit! ”

Cage sighed. “Just tell me what you want me to do, not what you think I should do.”

I shook my head. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I sat on the coffee table in front of him with my legs between his. Taking his hands, I squeezed them, demanding he look at me. “If I weren’t in the picture, if you were single and in this exact situation what would you do? Would you give it up?”

It was still too early for him to answer honestly.

His neck was still in a brace, his body was sluggish and off balance at times.

Of course not playing again was the knee-jerk decision.

But at some point he would feel better, stronger, and I had a hard time believing that he wouldn’t miss the game and regret his decision.

“You can’t answer me, can you? What does that tell you?”

Cage grumbled and grimaced like he wanted to shake his head at me, but his brace wouldn’t allow it. He stood, easing to his feet an inch at a time.

I grabbed his arm to help steady him.

“I’ve got it.” He pulled away. “You don’t understand and it fucking drives me crazy that you don’t.” Holding onto the back of the couch for a few seconds, he shuffled his feet along the floor toward the bedroom.

He was right. I didn’t understand anything, and it was a debilitating feeling to have such a disconnection from life.

CAGE

Yes.

The answer was yes. I would have done every stupid thing in my power to get back on the field had Lake not been in my life.

The game was my love, it was the greatest tribute to my biggest fan—my father.

I knew a ton of guys who played the game like it was their entire life.

Live or die on the field … it didn’t matter as long as the last thing they remembered was the field—as long as they died with a helmet on their head.

That was me before Lake.

My mom and Rob came back several hours later with bags of groceries as I finally emerged from the bedroom.

There were a million things to say to Lake, but I didn’t want them coming out as a string of anger.

I wasn’t angry with her. I was heartbroken for her.

She was lost in an abyss of emotions, but she refused to let a single one go.

“You’re fighting,” my mom whispered in my ear as Rob helped Lake unload the groceries.

“Why do you say that?”

“Lake looks on the verge of crying.”

I frowned. “It’s complicated.”

“We’re flying out in the morning, but if you need me to stay—”

“No. We have some things to work out and it’s probably best if we do them without an audience.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“I hope not.” I didn’t know what it would take to get Lake to let go of all the shit that cluttered her mind and held her emotions captive.

My mom and Rob went to bed early since they had an early flight.

Lake helped me bathe, saying no more than a few words such as “lean forward” and “sit back.” After she helped me into bed, I watched her every move.

She sulked between the bathroom and the closet like the whole world rested on her shoulders.

She sat on the bed and removed her leg.

“I’ll play if they clear me.”

She turned. “Don’t do it for me.”

I laughed, because really … I had no other choice. “Don’t quit for you. Don’t play for you. I can’t seem to win.”

She tossed her leg on the floor and slid under the sheets with her back to me. “I don’t want you to do any of it for me. I want you to do it for you. I’ll be happy if you’re happy.”

“I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy. Just so … fucking happy.” I laughed again, knowing the sarcasm in it would probably piss her off.

She sat up, whipping her legs around to the side of the bed, sliding on her liner, then snapping on her leg like she was seriously pissed at it. “Wonderful. You just go to sleep and have your happy dreams. I’m going out in the other room. I’m not tired.”

“Lake.”

She took off in a blaze of anger.

I felt like shit. Had my body worked properly she never would have made it out the bedroom door, but I was the tortoise in the race—and far from steady.

What felt like three days later, I managed to get to the living room.

Lake stood by the window with her back to me.

A new round of snow danced in the air, illuminated by the lights lining my drive on both sides.

“Ben died and I lived.” All emotion was stripped from her voice.

“Had he not died I would not be with you, and … that feels more tragic than his death. Life is such a mind-fuck. We say what we’re supposed to say, but feel what we’re not supposed to feel.

If God really hears my thoughts, then he knows I don’t regret going to breakfast with Ben.

He knows I don’t regret Ben dying that morning.

He knows I feel like a monster for having those feelings. ”

She turned. No tears. No emotion. It broke me to see her pain cut through every nerve, leaving her bleeding out without any more feeling.

“And my fear? It’s that in time I won’t regret you playing in that game.

I won’t regret not stopping you. I won’t regret you getting injured because the only thing worse than hating God for tragedy that doesn’t make any sense is hating Him for making complete sense of it in time.

But the rawest truth is I don’t think he has a damn thing to do with any of it.

I think we make sense of it in our own messed-up minds.

I think God is the greatest of all scapegoats.

And if I choose to believe in him, then I have to acknowledge his greatest love for us is free will. ”

Lake shook her head. “You chose to play. I chose to sit there and watch. Free will. It’s so damn scary.

God’s not a safety net. Living in fear, being guided by it, is a miserable life.

It’s me right now. I don’t trust myself—my thoughts, my feelings, my instinct—and it’s like a cancer inside of me.

One time … one time my gut was right. Do you see how debilitating that is?

It may never be right again, but I’ll always live in fear that it could be because one time it was. ”

I stepped closer. “You’re afraid of me playing?”

Her eyes trailed up my body, landing on my gaze. “Yes,” she whispered.

I took the final step. My hand ghosted along her shoulder and down her arm, she shivered under my touch. “You’re afraid of me not playing?”

Tears filled her eyes. My touch made her feel again. I would never take for granted the visceral effect I had on her. It reaffirmed the one thing I knew to be absolute truth in my life—my hands were made to touch her.

“Yes.” She blinked, releasing the tears.