I hadn’t expected to see Patrick that evening, but he showed up at our hotel, predictably mobbed by fans. After spending close to half an hour signing autographs and taking pictures, he begged off in his usual, good-natured way.
“Hey, everyone, I’m thrilled to see you all, but I’m here to take my parents and assistant out to dinner. Make sure you tune in for the Super Bowl, though.”
Lori and Don hugged him, and even I got to put my arms around him for a moment.
“Love you,” he whispered in my ear, and that was all I needed.
Early the next morning, I flew home with Lori and Don, got them settled into their room in Patrick’s apartment, and sat my ass down to set up Patrick’s schedule for the following two weeks. There were multiple calls from Ethan Phillips that I sent directly to Patrick, and I spent the better part of the day creating spreadsheets for his interviews and public appearances.Saturday Night Livewanted him, as well as all the late-night talk shows and a few daytime ones, and I arranged everything as I chewed on a pastrami sandwich from the tray I’d ordered in. Lori and Don had gone out for a walk and returned, but I barely registered them, until Lori tapped me on the shoulder.
“Fallon. It’s almost six and you haven’t moved since we came home at ten this morning.”
I gazed up at her and rubbed my eyes. “Yeah. It’s chaotic once Super Bowl week hits. We’re barely going to see Patrick—in the days leading up to the big game, he’s either in training camp or doing publicity. He’s only home for this week, and then he’s off to Arizona for the game.”
“Will you be going with him?”
The elevator door slid open, and a tired but jubilant Patrick walked in and dropped his duffel bag.
“It all depends on what Patrick wants,” I answered, hanging back as Lori and Don greeted him with a hug and kiss.
“I can tell you what Patrick wants.” He grinned, and my lips twitched.
“Behave,” I murmured as he came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “We were talking about whether you’d want us to come to Arizona for the whole week prior to the game.” I smirked. “And I have your schedule for this week set up. You’re welcome.” I handed him the colorful sheets I’d printed out, and he groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Stop. Let me sit for a little while.” His eyes lit up. “Is that deli? Do you have corned beef? And coleslaw?”
“Yeah. On the kitchen counter. I see it didn’t take you long to become a true New Yorker and fall under the spell of Second Avenue Deli.”
“My mama didn’t raise no fool.” He took a sandwich and sat. “To answer your question, of course I want you all there. I’ve already talked to the Kings, and they’ve got rooms set aside for you. And I have your access for the stadium and the box the Kings rented.” He rolled his shoulders, chewed, and swallowed. “God, I’m beat. I need to lie down. That game was way too close for comfort. Coach wants us in at ten sharp tomorrow morning.”
Lori gave Don a look and took his hand. “We’ll leave you two alone. There’s a TV show we want to watch.” She kissed Patrick on his cheek. “You gave it your all. And I hate to say it, but it was so exciting, even though I know it was stressful. I’m sure your coach will make sure you know where you fell short.”
Patrick snorted. “No kidding. My ears are still ringing. Thanks, Mom, Dad. I’ll see you in the morning.”
They passed by me, and Lori gave me a kiss as well. “We had a wonderful time with you. I can’t wait until next week. We’re going to have so much fun together.”
Their door closed, and with a gleam in his eye, Patrick left his seat, slipped his arms around my neck, and kissed me. “I’d like to have some fun with you right now.”
“Cool your jets, big guy. You know you’re not supposed to have sex before the game.” He thrust out his bottom lip, and I busted out laughing at his expression. “You’re cute when you pout. Plus, remember, your parents are here. And you get noisy.”
“We could go to your place. For old times’ sake.” He waggled his brows.
“Stop being a dog.” I patted his cheek. “But we can take a shower together, and I’ll make sure you’re nice and clean for practice tomorrow.”
His grin broadened, and those gorgeous eyes twinkled. “What’re you waiting for?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Patrick
Super Bowl Sunday
After two nonstop weeks, it was almost a relief to step onto the field to play the game. Even knowing that close to a billion eyes were watching, I wasn’t nervous. I was fucking ready. I wanted this win with a hunger that would not be denied.
And no lie, I could feel Fallon’s vibes flowing through me. As I had every postseason game, I pounded my chest and pointed to the box where he and my parents were sitting. He was my good-luck charm, the talisman I carried with me next to my heart. The sold-out stadium cheered, and I wondered if they knew what was coming because win or lose today, I was telling the world who I was. Maybe that was what had lent a fire to my soul—even my fingertips tingled with energy.
I bent to take the snap. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for since I was a kid and Dad took me to my first game. I called the play and could see from the twitchiness of the opposing team that they were as ready for this as we were.
“White 84, White 84, hut, hut.” The ball in my hands, I scrambled away from the line. My tackles and guards jammedup their players, and I spotted Troy twenty yards downfield and wide open. I spiraled that ball right into his arms, and he took off like he had a rocket up his ass. The crowd went wild at our thirty-five-yard gain.
