I go still. “You never said anything. About either date.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. We’re so newly married, and…”
I take her chin in my hand. “Nothing about you is a bother. I want to know these things.”
She reaches up and takes my hand into hers. “Okay.”
“I want to know more if you want to tell me,” I say in a low tone.
She takes a deep breath. “I think I just mixed up the two things in my head tonight is all.”
I furrow my brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“That’s because it’s irrational.” She smiles at me sadly. “The day my mom was killed, she was on her way to watch me compete at a riding event.”
“You rode competitively?” I don’t know why I’m surprised; Mia was extremely comfortable on a horse.
“I was a competitive jumper for years. It was just for fun. I always knew I’d stop once I graduated high school because my goal was to take over the family business.” She pauses. “Riding was like my mom’s and my thing that we did together. And for this particular event of mine, she had a meeting with a client that she couldn’t change, so my dad drove me. My mom rarely missed one of my events. I called her my good luck charm. I truly thought I couldn’t lose if she was in the stands watching me. I didn’t always win, of course, but I did do well. Every time she was there, I’d place.”
“You must have a lot of ribbons,” I say.
She smiles, but the smile is sad. “I do.”
My gut fills with dread in anticipation of where she’s going with her story.
“But that day, I was off. My horse knocked every jump. And my mom never showed up. I remember being upset with her when I didn’t place. I thought she got so caught up in her work that she couldn’t come.” She lets out a deep breath. “I was wrong. Turns out that her car was hit three miles from the arena where my dad and I were waiting for her. She blew through a yellow light and a drunk driver hit her. It wasn’t a red light, but still, she probably should have stopped. Instead, she was in a hurry to get to my show. She was my biggest supporter, and I can still imagine how badly she wanted to be there for me. I can still remember…” Her voice cracks just a touch before she continues. “I had just left the arena with my horse. I dismounted, and I was walking toward the gate to meet my dad. A police officer approached me. He confirmed who I was, but he wouldn’t tell me anything until we found my dad. And when the cop told us both…” She cuts off. “Let’s just say my dad’s never been the same.”
Something tells me Mia’s never been the same, either.
“I’m sorry,” I say, gently squeezing her hand with mine. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
She physically shakes her shoulders like she’s shaking it off. “It was years ago. But the thing is, I blamed myself for her death. Because if she hadn’t felt compelled to get to my show, she wouldn’t have left her meeting, and she wouldn’t have been rushing…”
“Hey.” I gently squeeze her hand. “It’s not your fault. She adored you. She wanted to be there for you. None of what happened was your fault, Mia.”
She clutches onto my hand like a lifeline. “I understand what you’re saying. It makes perfect sense. But I’m irrational when it comes to the loss of my mother. And for some reason, your game tonight reminded me…”
Her reasoning, however faulty, makes sense to me in that moment. Mia thought maybe she’d affected the outcome of the game tonight. Just like how she thought she was responsible for her mother’s death.
“You seriously think you’re the reason we lost tonight?” I say to her.
She fidgets in her seat, but I’ve got her hand wrapped tightly in mine, and there’s nowhere to go in this truck.
“I just know that you haven’t lost a game in weeks. And I’ve been watching you closely on television. You’ve been on fire, Declan. And tonight, you were flat.”
“That’s all true. Those facts you just rattled off. First of all, I didn’t realize you’ve been watching socloselyas you just said.”
Her hand tightens in mine, and I get the distinct feeling I’ve made her feel vulnerable. I hasten back to the point.
“Second of all, tonight we played a shitty game. That’s all it was.”
“I was late,” she murmurs. “And you were worried. The security guy told me. So, that could have…”
“Distracted me?” I say. “Yes, I admit it did. But then, you showed up. And I still played like crap. All of that is on me, Mia. The Denver Alphas’ coaches know my tendencies inside and out. They exploited them. Simple as that.”
Her taut expression relaxes. “I get it. But…”
I know where she’s going, and I cut her off. “You’re coming to the next game,” I say firmly. “And the one after that. In fact, we have a ten-day stretch of home games now, and you can come to all of them. I guarantee we’ll win every one whether or not you’re sitting in that seat behind the bench. But I sure as hell would rather have you sitting there than not.”
