Clash (23 page)

However, the moment was going to miss me if I didn’t haul ass to the airport curb and the taxi driver didn’t haul cab to Syracuse, because kickoff was in less than an hour. I didn’t have any bags to retrieve from the baggage carousel, so I stormed by them and almost slammed into a cab before I could slow myself. Climbing inside, I caught my breath.

“The Carrier Dome, please,” I said, breathing like I was trying to take off. “And if it wasn’t a matter of love and life, I wouldn’t be begging you right now to break every traffic rule to get there as fast as we can in one piece. Preferably in one piece,” I added.

The cab driver glanced back at me over his shoulder. His face was a familiar one. “Why are you in such a hurry to get everywhere you go?” he asked, slipping his sunglasses over his eyes. “Haven’t you ever been told to enjoy the journey?”

“I’ll enjoy the journey once I get there,” I answered, thanking my lucky stars I’d crashed into this cab. This guy had driven me here on my first trip in record time; it was fitting he drove me again now.

He smirked back at me, pulling away from the curb. “What’s the damn rush?”

I smirked right back. “I’ve got to apologize to, plead with, and make sweet love to the man I love,” I answered, buckling in. “Now make this yellow hunk of junk move!”

He rested his head back and laughed. “Lucky for you I like bossy women,” he said, unleashing that yellow hunk of junk loose on the road.

This time, as the cars and scenery blurred by me, I feared for my life. I guess finally deciding on the life you wanted to live made it more valuable.

But as we broke to a stop at the curb outside the ticket windows, we weren’t only still in one piece, we’d just broken every cab speed world record. I was tempted to ask the driver if he was an ex-Nascar driver, but I had somewhere to be and only minutes to spare.

Shoving some money into his hand, I slid out of the door. “You are a god among cabbies, my friend,” I said.

He chuckled like it was cute of me to acknowledge what he’d already known.

“Good luck,” he said before I slammed the door shut.

I knew this would be the last chance for one good deep breath, so I took it, holding it inside, sucking all the courage and kismet I could from it before letting it go. Turning around, I rushed towards the gates where my favorite ticket master waited behind the window.

“Miss Lucy!” he said, his face lighting up. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. Cutting it a little close aren’t you, kiddo?” he said, checking the clock over his shoulder.

“How you feeling today, Lou?” I asked, knowing my plan was going to fall flat on its face without his help.

“Old, arthritic,” he began, eyeing me, “and spry and ornery as the day I was born.”

I exhaled my relief. “Good,” I said. “I need a favor.”

Lou’s face flattened in surprise before, looking from side to side at the other employees around him, he leaned across the counter, his eyes gleaming. “I hope it’s a good one.”

My hands were sweating. Not clammy, not damp. Sweaty.

They weren’t the only things. Every part of my body seemed to have grown excessive sweat glands that were dripping liquid like I was going through some purification ritual in a steam hut.

Not to be excluded, my heart was about to burst out of my chest and my knees were strongly considering checking themselves out of the game. If my mind wasn’t so made up, so firm in its endeavor, my body would give out beneath me.

“You won’t have long, Miss Lucy,” Lou whispered over to me, handing me a cordless microphone.

“I won’t need long,” I answered, my foot tapping making its reappearance when I peered into the stands. Where the airports were next to empty on New Year’s Day, the bleachers at college football stadiums were packed to capacity. And I was about to go out in front of all that.

Shit
, was the only response my mind had for me. Hopefully it would be more articulate when I wandered out onto that field and put that mike up to my mouth.

“Do you know how to work one of these things?” he asked, eyeing the mike in my hands. It was slippery from my sweaty hands, so now, in addition to not tripping, not passing out, and not saying anything stupid, I had to add “don’t let the mic slide out my hands” to the punch card.

“Slide to on,” I recited, my voice shaking too. “Hold to mouth. Try not to sound like a blubbering idiot.”

Lou smiled that warm one of his that settled deep into the lines of his face.

“I happen to be partial to blubbering idiots,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “My wife was one, and I swear, that’s what won me over. She had to say everything that was on her mind without putting it through a filter.” Those brown eyes of his took on a faint sheen. “Five years later, after she passed, that’s what I lie in bed missing the most.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I gave Lou a shaky, sweaty hug which he seemed to melt into. When I pulled away, he wiped at his eyes.

“Mr. Jude’s a very lucky man,” he said, backing away.

I smiled after him. “I didn’t exactly draw the short stick.”

“No, hun, you sure didn’t,” he said, nodding his head towards the field. “Go get him.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling like I was about to vomit.

“When you’re ready, just give your head a nod and I’ll make sure that mic streams all the way to the parking lot.”

I flashed him a thumbs up because my nerves were clenching at my throat.

Peering into the stands, another wave of nausea rolled over me. The teams hadn’t taken the field yet, but were about to. Lou had assured me whether Jude was in the locker room, or in the tunnel, or on the field, there would be no way in hell he couldn’t hear my voice coming through the speakers.

Along with fifty thousand others.

Vulnerability was hard enough without a crap load of impartial strangers witnessing it. But this was what I had to do. Jude had put himself out there so many times before, not caring what others thought about him and the way he felt about me; it was my turn. I was the one who had much to atone for.

And atonement was one short walk to the fifty yard line.

Closing my eyes, I visualized Jude’s face. His many faces. The one that burst into laughter when I tried to be tough, the one that had smoothed into a smile when I’d told him I loved him, the one that had broken when I’d walked away too many damn times. And finally, the one of acceptance I hoped I’d find waiting for me when I said what needed to be said.

With renewed resolve, I opened my eyes and took my first step onto the field. I held my breath, hoping no one would tackle me or Taser me when they noticed I didn’t have a badge swinging from my neck, but no one seemed to pay much attention to the girl wandering to the fifty with a mic in her hand.

My hands were shaking by the twenty, and the rest of me by the thirty, but as I took my final steps to the fifty, everything calmed. I’d jumped‌—‌that was the hard part‌—‌now all I had to do was enjoy the free fall.

Holding the mic up, I scanned the crowd. People were starting to shift their attention my way. I pretended they were checking out the water boys on the sidelines. Glancing towards the dark tunnel, I gave a nod of my head.

The mic buzzed to life. I flinched in surprise. It was the first time I’d held one of these things and hadn’t anticipated that. Dancing didn’t require microphones.

“Hello?” I said, cementing my spot for the idiot of the year award. Was I expecting someone to greet me back? My voice blazed around the stadium.

Now I’d gotten every one’s attention. Including the tall, broad guys with black tees that read “SECURITY” across their backs.

Lou was right. I’d have to be fast.

“My name’s Lucy,” I began, my voice breaking. I cleared it.

Just pretend you’re talking to no one else but Jude.

“And once upon a time I fell in love with this guy.” The stadium went silent as everyone took their seats to the Lucy Larson Gut Spilling Show. “He wasn’t exactly a fairy tale prince. But I’m no fairy tale princess.” I paused, reminding myself to breathe. This would all be for nothing if I passed out from oxygen deprivation. “He didn’t ride in on a white horse or say all the right things at just the right time. But he was my prince. He would have been the kind I wrote about if I’d written all those fairy tales.”

I noticed a couple of security guards reach for their walkie talkies, mumbling something into them with stern faces.
Hurry, Lucy.

“That man made me feel things I never imagined could be felt. He made me want things I wasn’t sure I could have. He made me need things I didn’t know existed.”

My voice was getting stronger as the words started spilling from me. Everything I’d needed to say for so long was finally having its day.

“He made me happy. He made me crazy. He made me thank the heavens for the day I’d met him. He made me curse the same heavens for the day I’d met him.” I smiled, a slew of memories flashing through my mind.

“I screwed up. He screwed up. I was sure I couldn’t live without him. I was just as sure he’d be the death of me. I was
confused
.” Straddling the fifty, I completed one revolution, waiting for number seventeen to be running across the field at me. No smiling faces were coming for me yet.

I had more to make up for. I only hoped it would be enough.

“We rode this roller coaster. Up, down, and around and around, and just as soon as I was sure it was coming to a stop and we could get off of it once and for all, we repeated the same ride all over again. I didn’t think I wanted to be a passenger on that ride anymore, so I got off, leaving him to ride it alone.”

A couple of guards nodded into their walkies before pocketing them and coming onto the field for me. I did another survey of the field.

Where was he?

“Then we shared one amazing night in a hospital room and I knew everything would be all right. And then doubt crept back into my mind and I knew nothing would be all right. So I left him. I hurt him.” A single phantom tear I hadn’t known was there skied down my cheek.

Ignoring the guards making their way towards me, I looked into the stands. Beyond what I’d expected, more faces were formed into sympathy than judgment.

It turns out, I wasn’t the only one who screwed love up.

“But then this morning, over a sleepless night and a pot of coffee, someone knocked some sense into me. Thanks, mom,” I said, waving at the camera that was tracking me. “I realized I’d never really gotten off that roller coaster, we were just riding in different cars. My life is a roller coaster whether or not I am sitting next to this boy, and I’d rather share this crazy journey through life with him at my side.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I busted into the finale because I had maybe ten seconds before I would be escorted off the field. Hopefully not in cuffs.

“I’m done leaving. I’m done questioning if we can do this thing, Jude.”

Cheering rose up in the stands as fans began to realize their star quarterback was who this screw-loose girl was talking about.

“I’m done pretending I’ll ever love someone else as much as I do you. I know it took me a while, but I know it now. I was made to love you. I was made to share my life with you. I’m rewriting the fairy tale so you and I get to ride off together.” I paused again to get a breath, scanning the field.

He wasn’t coming. Even if he’d been tucked away into the very back of the stadium, he could have made it to me by now if he wanted to. Nothing stopped Jude from what he wanted. The possibility that I wasn’t what he wanted any more broke me.

I fought through the fear. I was done living in a state of it.

“I love you, Jude Ryder. I’m done letting that scare me. I’m not going anywhere.”

One of the security guards stopped in front of me, clearing his throat. “Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid you are.”

This was so not how I’d envisioned this all going. I gave life‌—‌smirking its all-knowing face at me‌—‌the finger.

“I’ll take that,” he said, grabbing the mic out of my hands. “After you,” he said, which was every shade of a demand, motioning me off the field.

The other guard shouldered up next to me, waiting for me as well. At least neither one was swinging a pair of cuffs in front of me. Taking one more look around the field, I felt my already battered heart break one final time.

It was done‌—‌it couldn’t break any more than it just had. If Jude didn’t want it, I didn’t need it any ways.

Making myself hold my head high, I followed behind one of the guards, the other one keeping stride beside me as I left the field. The stadium was silent again as I felt the eyes of every person watching me being escorted from the field where I’d just bared my soul.

Where I’d left it there to die.

My future was flashing through my mind as we crossed into the dark tunnel, looking bleak and empty. My future, Judeless, wasn’t one I looked forward to waking up to every day.

I was midway through the tunnel, at the point where it is darkest, when something buzzed to life in the stadium. It startled me just as much as it had the first time. The two guards froze right along with me, but their mouths didn’t curve into smiles like mine did.

“Lucy Larson?” That voice I couldn’t possibly love any more without being declared mentally unstable rose through the stadium. “Could you come back out here? I need to ask you something.”

The guards groaned. I almost squeed I was so giddy, and Lucy Larson didn’t normally do giddy.

“Ready to make this a round trip, boys?” I said, already heading back down that tunnel whether they felt the need to escort me or not.

Their footsteps indicated they were following behind me. I wasn’t slowing to wait for them. Hurrying out of the tunnel, the light of the stadium blinded me for a moment, but then a flash of orange and white decorating the fifty yard line cleared my vision. Jude straddled that line, his helmet at his feet, and his eyes nowhere else but on me.

His face gave nothing away, but I didn’t care if he was out there to chastise me in front of everyone or if he was planning on making sweet love to me right there on the field. I wasn’t turning my back on him again.