When I Need You (Need You #4)(102)

       
         
       
        

I'd missed this.

"Did you see me dance?" he demanded.

I propped him on my hip and smoothed his hair back from his face. "Of course I did. I was in the front row."

He chattered on and I listened with amusement to his analysis of every dance, which also led me to comparisons of how I rehashed a game, discussing the highlights and the mistakes. When he paused to breathe, I said, "You were outstanding, ninja-dance boy."

"What was your favorite part?"

I grinned at him and kissed his forehead. "Are you kidding me? When you took center stage and performed that move we saw on Dancing with the Stars! How long did it take you to learn it?"

He groaned. "All summer. I thought I'd never get it."

"Well, it looked like you've got it down, little dude, and you know the deal we made. You gotta teach it to me."

"'Kay."

Calder rested his head on my shoulder. "Seems like you were gone a loooong time. Are you done with football camp?"

"Almost."

"I'm glad you were surprised, Rocketman. Mommy was too."

"She didn't know you were working on that move?"

He shook his head. "I wanted to do it just for you."

I couldn't speak around the lump in my throat. I kissed the crown of his sweaty head. I glanced up to see everyone in my family-and Rowan's family-watching me.

Let them stare. This is you proving you give a damn about someone besides yourself and something beyond football.

Then I didn't see anything else as my beautiful Rowan walked toward me, a soft smile on her face. She pressed her palm against my chest and rubbed Calder's back. "You okay, sweet boy?"

"Uh-huh."

I said, "I'm good too."

When she said, "You sure? You want me to take him?" Calder burrowed deeper into me.

"Nope."

"You got waylaid for a while with the media. Is everything all right?"

"We'll see how it shakes out tomorrow."

"Come on, everyone is waiting to talk to the man of the hour." She gently nudged me toward our assorted family members.

"Hear that, Calder? Everyone is talking about that fancy-ass dance move you did."

He giggled. "No. They're talkin' about you, silly. And you're not s'posed to say the A-word, remember?"

"My bad."

For the next half an hour as I talked with the Lund Collective, as well as the Michaels family, Calder refused to let go of me. With all the noise around us, it surprised me to look down and see Calder's mouth slack and soft snores drifting out as he drooled on my shoulder. I grinned at Rowan. "Like mother, like son, huh?" 

She whispered, "I drool on you for another reason entirely, Lund."

"But you conk out just like this after I wear you out," I murmured back.

She rested her head on my arm. "Can we go home now? I missed you."

I kissed her temple. "Let's say our good-byes."

Rowan's parents were staying in the Cities another day, so we made plans for a late dinner. And the Lund Collective insisted on changing the normal Sunday brunch time to an early-evening meal so I could come with Rowan and Calder.

We walked outside with my parents and Martin. The humidity had dissipated, leaving it a beautiful, balmy night.

Martin and Dad were laughing sort of hysterically about something that I didn't want to know about. Rowan was readjusting Calder's car seat. Leaving me with my mom.

She brushed my hair out of my face. I was twenty-eight years old and she still fussed at me. "Is this a bruise?" she demanded in Swedish when she noticed the spot on my cheekbone.

"Yeah. I got smacked kinda hard in practice today."

"I always hated that part of football."

"Getting pounded into the dirt isn't my favorite part either." Such a lie. I loved that.

"No, I meant the marks you've been getting since you were boy of ten." She ran the back of her finger over the spot. "Bumps, bruises, even broken bones. You loved the game so much that I had to hide my tears from you over every bump, bruise and broken bone. I had to pretend I didn't hurt to watch you training and playing when you were in pain. I had to suck it up and be proud, smiling mama on the outside when you caught the ball but took a hit hard enough to rattle your brain. I had to cheer when I watch you block and save a play but I see blood on your uniform and you limping off the field. I see you work harder and harder to become better, faster, stronger. I watch you become more football machine than man. I watch and I wait and I hope in silence for the day to come when there's no more bumps, no more bruises, no more blood, no more broken bones . . . no more hurting for you, even knowing, as your mama, that when that end day does come, it will hurt you more than any bone-rattling, jaw-cracking body slam you've ever felt."