Coach Tilson was the one to answer. “They should all be there, Ms. Hubbard.”
“Vee,” I corrected. “The same name I had yesterday I have today.”
“What can we do?” Drew asked.
“What you always do.” I met each man’s eyes. “You were right, Royce. You were right about things going our way and you were right about Graham. If my father taught me anything, it was that he surrounded himself with the best of the best. I have no intentions of changing that.”
Changing the venue of my announcement to the practice field was a good move. Uncle Darin, Grant, and Lip were already on the field with a microphone. The stands were filling with players and Coopers’ staff. The sound of heavy footsteps on the aluminum bleachers echoed throughout the facility. In the film room, I would be able to see each face and each expression. From the practice field, I could look out at the group without zeroing in on individuals.
I willed myself not to find Fin.
As soon as Grant passed me the microphone, I was caught in Fin’s blue stare. His expression was shared by those around him, one of curiosity and uncertainty. I pulled my gaze away from Fin’s and focused on the crowd.
“Thank you for coming in here on short notice and disrupting your day,” I said into the microphone, my voice projecting through the facility. “This morning, after my arrival to Maker’s Mark, I was informed of an accident on 64.” I inhaled. “We don’t have specific information, but we know with certainty that my father, Reid Hubbard, was killed in that crash.”
I waited as mouths went agape. A few people covered their faces with their hands. Gasps and whispers filled the air.
“I—we, Dad’s family, wanted you to hear the news from us. TMZ has already announced his passing in an unconfirmed newsbreak. I can only imagine that soon Maker’s Mark Football Center will be crawling with reporters looking for the scoop on the story.” I looked at Grant and then back to the crowd. “Our statement is that we, the family, appreciate privacy. You, every one of you sitting or standing here, are part of our family.”
Heads nodded.
“Our security won’t allow the journalists to enter the facility, but I would assume you will be questioned. Sports reporters are probably currently leaving messages on your phones. I’m not going to dictate what you say. I ask that you plead for the privacy we requested.” I waited as the news settled in. “However, I want everyone in here to know I’m also asking for something else. I’m asking that we carry on the season we began. The Coopers will not miss the game next Sunday in Las Vegas. Practices will continue. The coaches will continue to coach. Please remember my father with a smile and continue to strive for the best. Reid Hubbard believed in you, each of you and the collective you. He told me more than once that he believed this was our year to win the Super Bowl. I believe that too. I know that whether the season ends with a ring or without, my father was proud and honored to have each of you in his life.”
To my shock and surprise, one by one, people began to stand and clap.
The walls around my emotions began to crumble. Tears streamed down my cheeks, ones I hoped weren’t visible from a distance. I swallowed the sob building in my chest. I lifted my hand. “Thank you for listening. Now, let’s do our best for my dad, Reid Hubbard.”
“Ms. Hubbard. Vee.” Hands shot upward.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not taking any questions at this time. I’ve briefed Mr. Beasley and the coaches. You may ask your questions of them. I need to be going.” I handed the microphone back to Grant.
“The Coopers’ statement went out as you began to speak,” he said. “You’re right about the journalists. You and Dad should get out of here while you can.”
“How close can the journalists get?”
Grant clenched his teeth. His nostrils flared. “I’ll speak with security. We should be able to keep them outside the parking lot. I’ll have security close the gates and post guards outside.”
“Thank you.”
The players and staff were quietly climbing down and off the metal stands as condolences filled my ears. When I turned to leave, I was met with the blue stare I’d awakened to this morning.
Concern emanated through Fin’s expression. My first instinct was to shake my head, letting him know I couldn’t speak to him, not now. However, before I shook my head, I feigned a smile and nodded toward the exit.
Fin nodded in response.
The crowd moved through the doors, scattering in different directions. I took the less traveled path—a turn to the right, the direction leading me toward the training and medical center. Sidestepping, I ducked into an alcove, hoping Fin followed my lead.
I heard his footsteps before he passed. I had a quick glimpse of his determined saunter, squared shoulders, and clenched jaw as I called out in a hushed whisper.
“Fin.”
He spun toward me and scanned the hallway, before entering the privacy of the alcove. Fin’s strong arms wrapped me in his embrace, pulling me against his hard chest. “Vee, I’m so sorry.” His words reverberated from him to me as his heart beat beneath his button-down shirt.
Nodding, I swallowed the sob attempting an escape and blinked away the tears. As I pushed away from his hold, our hands found one another’s. Stoically, I met his sympathetic gaze. “I don’t want to shut you out. But right now, I need to concentrate?—”
“Don’t shut me out,” he interrupted. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m just…” My nostrils flared and my voice quivered. “If I give in for a second, I’m not sure I can remember how to be strong.”
