I believed it. I didn’t care a rat’s behind if she did.
“Your daughter’s so beautiful.” Sophia’s expression changed, along with her tone. “Those big dark eyes, pretty chestnut hair, and that easy smile . . .” Sophia’s gaze cut to mine as she rose from her chair. “It’s like she’s got a bigger, male clone I’ve met before.” My heart stopped, and she knew it too. She patted my shoulder, all patronizing-like. “Those few men in the world might not have any secrets, but we women certainly do. Don’t we?”
Her gaze moved to Charlie, who was wearing a jersey with Turner stamped across the back beneath her overalls. A sculpted brow lifted before Sophia walked away.
Awesome in-person first game. On the bright side, it couldn’t get any worse.
THE STORM HAD owned the game, a certain number eighty-seven playing at a new level. I guessed it had something to do with knowing his daughter was glued to the plate-glass window in the owner’s box, cheering on the Invincible Man. Aka, her dad.
Watching him tonight, I’d almost believed the claim that he was, in fact, invincible. Of course I knew better, but those few hours of that game made it easy to believe nothing could bring down Grant Turner.
After Sophia’s and my “chat,” Charlie and I had been left alone for the rest of the game. Other than the server who made a few passes to see if we needed anything, and Mr. Fontaine lifting his fifth gin and tonic at me the time we made eye contact, I hadn’t had to suffer through mingling. The experience hadn’t been too bad—it could have been worse.
Plus, I’d had a heap of processed, sugary goods to keep me happy and an awed daughter who hadn’t left her perch at the window, not even during halftime. At least I’d managed to get half a hot dog down her, but she couldn’t even be talked into a bathroom break. I’d had to take two thanks to the super-sized Icee.
As soon as the game ended, I started to gather up Charlie’s and my things, ready to breathe free air again. After thanking Mr. Fontaine and luring Charlie out the door with a Red Rope dangled in front of her like a carrot, I was finally free of the owner’s box.
First time. Last time.
I didn’t care what kind of security detail Grant put on us, Charlie and I were sitting in the stands from now on.
“The Storm kicked booty Mom.” Charlie was still bouncing from her excitement as she took my hand. “That was the best moment of my life. The best.”
“Glad you had so much fun. It was a pretty spectacular game.” The hall outside the owner’s box was quiet, but I leaned down to whisper in Charlie’s ear, “Your dad dominated out there.”
She giggled and looked over her shoulder, loving that we were in on some big secret. “It’s too bad they don’t have professional football teams for girls. I think I’d be really good at it.”
“Maybe one day you could start one.”
“Yeah?”
“Anything’s possible,” I stated, both believing those words and knowing better. But I wanted her to believe it for as long as possible.
“Would you come and cheer me on if I did?”
Something ached in my chest, thinking about everything I’d miss. My hand squeezed hers. “You better believe it.”
“I’ll reserve a seat just for you.”
We were about to descend the stairs to put us on the third floor of the stadium when I felt it. The burst of pain through my nerves, right before they went numb.
“Charlie . . .” I got out, right before my vocal chords went as dead as the rest of my body.
The tremor that burst through my body sent me to the ground instantly. Beside me, Charlie cried out, clinging to my hand even as I spilled out across the floor in a trembling fit.
“Mom?” I heard her voice, but it sounded far away, like she was screaming across an ocean. “Mom!”
I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t even make eye contact. I was trapped inside my body, feeling like an unwilling victim in some sick and twisted game. This was what it would be like in the end. All the time. I’d know what was going on around me, but be unable to interact or communicate or participate. It was like I’d be forced to serve a life sentence in a maximum-security prison known as my body.
The same body that had supported me for twenty-four years. The same body I’d shared with Grant. The same body I’d given birth to my daughter with. It had been a reliable friend, but one day, it would be my greatest enemy.
It felt like the tremor wouldn’t end, but I guessed only a minute or two had passed before I started to notice the feeling returning to my fingers. Charlie.