Chapter 21 #3
He let out a quiet breath because he already knew he wasn't going to change my mind.
As I walked back toward the huddle, my shoulder throbbed with every step, but the physical pain barely registered anymore.
The only thing that truly hurt was the thought of Mars sitting somewhere believing I had become exactly the kind of man she had spent years trying to protect herself from.
I stopped just behind the line of scrimmage and looked across the field while the crowd continued roaring around me.
I couldn't control the headlines. I couldn't control the photographs. I couldn't control whether Mars answered her phone. The only thing I could control was the next play.
Somehow that realization quieted everything else.
The panic disappeared.
The frustration disappeared.
The noise inside my head finally gave way to the only thing I had spent my entire life learning how to do.
Play football.
When the fourth quarter began, we were still trailing, but I finally felt like myself again.
Every read became clearer.
Every throw became easier.
Every decision came a little faster.
The game slowed down the way it always had when I trusted my preparation instead of my emotions.
One completion turned into another.
A first down became another drive.
Little by little, we started taking the game back.
I couldn't fix my relationship with Mars from the middle of a football field.
I couldn't explain the truth until the final whistle blew.
What I could do was finish what I had started.
And that was exactly what I intended to do.
The scoreboard glowed high above the stadium as the final minutes slowly disappeared, and every second seemed to carry the weight of an entire season.
Less than two minutes remained, and the atmosphere inside the stadium had completely changed.
The excitement that had filled the building before kickoff had given way to nervous anticipation because everyone understood what was at stake.
One mistake could end our season.
One drive could keep it alive.
I pulled my helmet back on, tightened my chin strap, and looked around the huddle.
Nobody needed a motivational speech.
Nobody needed to be reminded what this game meant.
Every man standing beside me had worked too hard to let this moment slip away.
I stepped behind center and studied the defense one more time before calling for the snap.
The ball hit my hands, and everything around me immediately sped up.
The pocket held for only a heartbeat before the defensive line crashed toward me.
I climbed forward just enough to avoid the pressure and kept my eyes moving downfield.
For a brief instant, nothing looked open.
Then I saw it.
A narrow window appeared between two defenders, and it was gone almost as quickly as it came.
I trusted what I saw.
I planted my feet despite the pain shooting through my shoulder and released the ball with everything I had left.
The football spiraled through the night air as time seemed to stretch around it.
The roar of the crowd disappeared.
The lights faded into the background.
For one suspended moment, there was nothing except the ball and the receiver racing toward the back corner of the end zone.
He reached out.
The football settled cleanly into his hands.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupted.
The sound crashed over me all at once as more than seventy thousand people leaped to their feet, their cheers shaking the entire building beneath us.
For a brief moment, I stood perfectly still and let myself take it all in.
The confetti.
The fireworks.
The celebration.
The relief.
After years of dreaming about moments like this, I should have been thinking about the playoffs.
Instead, my thoughts found Mars.
I wished she had been there.
I wished I could have looked into the stands and found her smiling back at me.
More than anything, I wished she knew the truth.
Before I had time to think another thought, my teammates surrounded me.
Someone slammed into my shoulder pads from behind hard enough to nearly knock me off balance.
Another wrapped both arms around me in a bear hug while shouting something I couldn't even hear over the noise.
Helmets collided against mine as one teammate after another celebrated the game-winning drive.
"Playoffs, baby!" someone yelled.
I laughed despite everything that had happened that day.
For just a few seconds, football allowed me to forget everything else.
The feeling didn't last.
By the time I reached the sideline, cameras had already found me.
Reporters crowded near the tunnel with microphones extended in every direction while photographers fired off flashes so quickly they almost looked like lightning.
Normally, this was the part I understood better than almost anyone.
I answered the questions.
I thanked my teammates.
I praised the coaching staff.
I gave everyone exactly the quote they expected.
Tonight, I couldn't do it.
One reporter stepped directly into my path.
"Jalen, what was going through your mind on that final drive?"
I kept walking.
Another raised her microphone.
"Can you tell us how your shoulder is feeling?"
I didn't slow down.
Then someone called out the one question I had been dreading all afternoon.
"Jalen, can you address the photographs circulating online with the unidentified woman?"
I stopped walking.
The hallway suddenly became very quiet.
Every camera pointed toward me.
Every microphone waited.
I thought about Mars declining every one of my calls.
I thought about the unanswered texts sitting on her phone.
I thought about the look that would be on her face if she believed even one word of those headlines.
I looked directly at the reporter.
"No."
The word came out calm, but it carried enough finality that no one asked a follow-up.
I turned and walked away without another glance, leaving the cameras, the questions, and the headlines behind me.
There was only one conversation I cared about now, and it wasn't with the media.
It was with the woman who still hadn't answered her phone.
I pushed through the tunnel and straight toward the locker room, the noise of the stadium fading behind me.
All I could think about was my phone.
Mars.
The locker room buzzed with celebration. Music blasted from someone’s speaker while guys shouted across the room, reliving plays and laughing.
I barely noticed any of it.
I went straight to my locker and reached for my phone before I even took off my helmet.
Nothing.
No missed calls.
No texts.
No response.
My chest sank.
I called her again anyway.
The phone rang twice before going straight to voicemail.
I lowered it slowly, staring at the screen for a moment as though it might suddenly change its mind.
It didn't.
I stripped off my pads as quickly as I could and shoved everything into my duffel bag without bothering to organize it.
Normally I never left the stadium without showering.
Tonight I couldn't bring myself to care.
Football had been over for less than ten minutes, but my mind had already left the stadium long before the final whistle.
I grabbed my keys, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed straight for the parking garage.
The drive to Mars's building usually took less than fifteen minutes.
That night it felt like an hour.
Every red light seemed longer than the last, and every passing minute gave my imagination another opportunity to convince me that I had already lost her.
When I finally pulled into the parking garage, the city had settled into its usual late-night rhythm.
The lobby glowed warmly through the glass entrance, and the security guard looked up the moment I walked inside.
His expression immediately softened with recognition.
"Good evening, Mr. Carter."
"Evening."
I nodded toward the elevators.
"I need to go upstairs."
The smile slowly disappeared from his face.
"I'm sorry, sir."
Something in his voice immediately made my stomach tighten.
"What is it?"
He shifted uncomfortably before answering.
"Ms. Sinclair left instructions earlier this afternoon."
I felt my heart sink before he finished speaking.
"What instructions?"
"She asked that no visitors be allowed upstairs tonight."
I stood there quietly for a moment, hoping I had somehow misunderstood him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir."
I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced toward the elevators anyway.
"Would you mind calling her and letting her know I'm here?"
His expression turned apologetic.
"I wish I could, but she specifically asked not to be disturbed unless she contacted the desk first."
I let out a slow breath.
"Please."
He looked genuinely sorry.
"I really can't."
For several long seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, I nodded.
"I understand."
I didn't.
But arguing with him wasn't going to change anything.
Mars had made her decision.
I walked back outside, climbed into my truck, and sat there without starting the engine.
After a long moment, I picked up my phone one more time.
The call went straight to voicemail.
I closed my eyes before speaking.
"Mars... it's me."
My voice sounded tired.
More tired than I had realized.
"I know you saw the pictures."
I swallowed hard.
"I know exactly how they look, and if I were in your position, I'd probably have questions too."
I rested my forehead against the steering wheel for a moment.
"But I need you to believe one thing."
I took a slow breath.
"I have never lied to you, and I have never given another woman a reason to think she could come between us."
The silence on the other end somehow felt louder than the crowd had only an hour earlier.
"I love being with you, Mars."
The words came naturally because they were true.
"I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you."
I paused, hoping she was listening even though I knew she probably wasn't.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me for something I didn't do."
I exhaled slowly.
"I'm just asking you to let me explain."
Another long silence filled the line.
"When you're ready, I'll be here."
I ended the voicemail and stared at my reflection in the dark windshield.
For the first time in years, I felt completely helpless.