I wasn’t. I was so. Not. Ready.
“You have no idea.” My lips pulled into a tight smile.
“Not a bad place for him to be in just his second year.”
It was the worst fucking place ever, and I was the only one who saw it.
Ben died and I lived.
I wanted the heart. I wanted his kiss. I wanted that moment.
There didn’t have to be a reason he died and I lived. Lifewas a million things and something profoundly different to everyone, but stripped down to its most simplistic truth, life was always anexperience.
If there was a God, maybe he didn’t really hate me. Maybe he loved me. Maybe he loved me enough to let meexperiencelife—without limitations.
I loved Cage. I loved him enough to let himexperiencelife—without limitations.
As I eased into my seat, I spotted Monaghan on the field. It wastheexperience for him. Calling it once in a lifetime was such an understatement.
A little boy’s dream.
A father’s proudest moment.
I hoped AJ was watching his son.
If God was truly all-knowing, then he knew Ben was going to die and I was going to live. He letlifehappen. I had no other choice but to experience the day—the moment—with 73,000 other people.
“You’re shaking.” Gretchen rested her hands on mine that were folded in my lap. “Gene played for Baltimore many years ago. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. Cage didn’t talk much about the team’s owners other than to say how grateful he was for their offer to let me sit with them.
“He was a quarterback too. We met in college and got married the summer before his rookie season. I gave myself an ulcer his first season. I was so worried about every tackle, every hit… for us it’s not about the win. Every game that your guy walks off the field on his own is a victory.” She squeezed my hands. “I smell victory today.”
I wanted to know if her words were a premonition or justbullshit to keep me from vomiting on her expensive shoes. I didn’t ask.
Sixty minutes of clock time and four opportunities for it to read 1:00.
Please let it just be a bad dream.
By the end of the first quarter Cage was still fine and Minnesota was up by seven.
By halftime they were up by fourteen and Cage was not only fine, he ran a quarterback sneak play and scored with three seconds left on the clock. He couldn’t see me, but he knew just where I was. He kissed two fingers then pointed them in my direction. Gretchen hugged me. My heart still wasn’t beating.
Denver tied it up with two minutes left on the clock in the fourth quarter. Just like I had done in the previous three quarters, I held my breath during every play as the numbers on the clock ticked down. I only had to survive one more time that clock would read 1:00.
One minute and ten seconds… the center hiked the ball.
Nine seconds, Cage took several steps back and cocked his arm ready to throw.
Eight seconds.
Seven seconds.
I grabbed my stomach. That pain? It punched my gut. “NO!” I screamed forcing myself to standing like somehow he’d hear me on the field.
Everyone in the suite looked at me in wide-eyed shock.
Five seconds.
