James, Julie - Love Irresistibly

Voilà.

She scrolled through the various YouTube clips, clicked on the link that looked most promising, and settled in at her desk. It was a fourteen-minute highlight clip, beginning with all sorts of pomp and circumstance and an announcer talking over swelling marching band music: “We’re live in Pasadena, where the dreams, the blood, sweat, and tears, the perseverance, and the anticipation, have all come down to this: the 2001 Rose Bowl, presented by . . .”

Blah, blah, blah . . . Come on people, I’m a busy woman, let’s get to the good stuff.

Finally, things shifted to the actual game footage, and—

There he was. Twenty-one-year-old Cade, wearing his purple Wildcats uniform—helmet, shoulder pads, and all—with “Morgan” blazed proudly across the back of his jersey.

So cute.

Brooke watched a montage that covered the big moments in the first half of the game, plays in which Cade dropped back out of the pocket and dodged and weaved and ran and passed the ball, and then right before halftime he did this thing where he fought off one lineman and spun around and charged through another guy to get to the end zone and tie the game, and—

Holy crap, he was awesome.

In the third quarter, they cut to a shot of Cade standing on the sidelines, watching while the refs did a measurement to see if Northwestern had stopped a key first down. It was the first time during the highlights clip that they had shown him with his helmet off, and Brooke smiled when she saw Cade, all sweaty and dirty, with his dark brown hair mussed and shorter than he wore it today.

The video went on, featuring clip after clip of Cade in action. There could be no doubt that he was the star of the game—but as Brooke continued to watch, her heart began to beat faster with nervousness.

Because, unlike anyone who’d been watching that game live, she knew how it was going to end.

As the highlights from the fourth quarter flew by, her anticipation grew. Finally, with fifteen seconds left on the clock and Northwestern down by four points, that purple Morgan jersey got behind the offensive line for what Brooke knew was Cade’s last time playing on a football field.

She held her breath as the center snapped the ball.

Cade dropped back, skillfully moving into position and setting up for the pass—no desperate Hail Mary here—and Brooke saw the linebacker charging around the line, heading right for Cade, and she had no doubt that Cade saw him, too, yet he never wavered as he pulled back and threw a perfect, beautiful, sixty-five-yard pass right into the hands of the wide receiver waiting in the end zone.

The crowd went absolutely wild.

What everyone failed to see at the time—the entire stadium’s eyes had been on the ball and the wide receiver—but what Brooke saw in a slow-motion replay from a different camera angle, was that the linebacker had tackled Cade a split second after he’d released the ball. They hit the ground hard together, all that force and weight landing on Cade’s right shoulder.

Brooke watched the replay with no small amount of awe as Cade used one arm, the one not injured, to shove the linebacker off of him so he could see if the pass was complete. The instant the ball dropped into the wide receiver’s hands, he rolled onto his back on the field, one fist raised in victory.

Seconds later, a mob of his ecstatic teammates fell on him, one piling on top of the other in the excitement.

Brooke saw it in their faces, the moment his teammates knew something was wrong. The raucous celebration gave way to frantic shouts for the trainer and concerned expressions as everyone cleared out of the way to give Cade space. He remained on the field for some time, talking to the coach and the trainers as they looked him over. When they finally helped Cade up and he walked off the field, the whole stadium, previously quiet, broke into thunderous applause and cheers.

The video ended after that.

Brooke leaned back in her chair, blinking back an unexpected swell of emotion.

Probably, if she and Cade had been dating seriously, she would want to know what he’d been thinking while lying on that field. Undoubtedly, she’d also want to know why he never brought up the subject of football, and whether he missed that part of his life. And, if they’d been in a real relationship, it wouldn’t just be the past she’d be curious about. She’d also want to know about whatever was going on in his personal life, and whether he was okay, and whether, maybe, there was something she could do to help.

Good thing, then, that they weren’t serious.

Because that was a lot of questions for two people who, as Cade had once put it, could probably go their entire relationship without ever saying anything meaningful at all to each other.

Someone knocked at her door, interrupting Brooke’s thoughts. “Come in.”

Tony, the VP of sales, stuck his head inside her office.

“I heard about your meeting with the Bears,” he said. “Nicely done. Got a few minutes to chat?”

“Sure.” She clicked off her iPad.

Tony pointed. “I can come back if you’re in the middle of something.”

Brooke waved this off. “I was just messing around on the Internet.” She shoved the iPad back into her briefcase, and then turned back to Tony. “So. Soldier Field. Given the gleam in your eye, it’s probably best if I give you the same long-shot speech I just gave Ian.”

Duty called once again.

“ARE YOU SURE you should be doing this?”

Standing a few feet away, Cade brushed off Zach’s question. Although, as a matter of fact, he probably should not be doing this. “Stop worrying about my shoulder. Focus instead on those slow feet of yours.”

They’d commandeered a deserted field behind a warehouse, where Zach apparently scrimmaged during the off-season with his football buddies. Staying true to his word, Cade had suggested they hang out someplace closer to his brother’s neighborhood this time—after not so subtly extracting a guarantee from Zach that Noah wouldn’t be there.

Deep down Cade knew, as his relationship with Zach grew, that one day he would have to face his father. But that day was still a long way out. For now, he wanted to focus on Zach. His brother lived on the south side of the city, in a neighborhood of modest homes that had been built right after World War II. Cade was familiar enough with the area to know that it was relatively safe, and that the football team at the public high school Zach attended was one of the best in Chicago. He’d bet that was one of the reasons Noah had chosen this particular neighborhood.

Cade stood midfield, waiting for Zach to take his place at the line of scrimmage.

“When’s the last time you threw a football?” Zach asked worriedly.

Aside from the few times Cade had tossed one around casually with friends, a long time. “About twelve years.”

Zach threw him a panicked look.

“I won’t push it,” Cade said. It wasn’t as if his shoulder was entirely unusable; in fact, on a daily basis it didn’t bother him at all. His rotator cuff simply couldn’t withstand the repetitive stress of competitive football. “I just want to see what I can do.” He pointed emphatically. “And if the answer is ‘not much,’ you better not tell a soul. I’ve got a reputation to uphold here.”

Zach smiled, loosening up. “All right. I don’t want to stand in the way of you reliving your glory days or whatever.”

“Good. But in case this all goes south, my car keys are in the outside pocket of my duffle bag. When you drive me to the emergency room, if I’m too busy mumbling incoherently from the pain, just tell them I’ve got Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance.”

Zach’s eyes went wide.

“I’m kidding, Zach. Now get moving.”

They started with shorter routes, with Cade faking the hike and dropping back while Zach sprinted for the pass. He pushed Zach hard that morning, just like every coach had ever pushed him, but he knew the kid could take it. He saw how good Zach was—so much so, that it got Cade’s own competitive juices flowing. Luckily, he’d kept in shape over the years, lifting weights, swimming, and running, so he was primed to be back on that field, every muscle in his body ready and raring to go.

Save one.

After an hour or so, Cade felt the soreness creeping into his right shoulder. “Why don’t we take a break?” he suggested to Zach.

They grabbed a couple of bottled waters from Cade’s duffle bag and sat in the grass. The field they were playing on that morning wasn’t much to speak of, with its view of the warehouse and the adjacent empty parking lot, but there was open space and lots of grass. Two guys playing football on a Saturday afternoon didn’t need much more.

“How long have you lived in this neighborhood?” he asked.

“Since I was five,” Zach said. “We’d been living in an apartment on the west side before that, but then my dad got a new job that paid enough for us to buy a house here.”

Cade debated where he wanted to take the conversation from there. He looked across the field, keeping his tone casual. “What does Noah do for a living these days?”

“He’s a night security guard at Water Tower Place. My mom also works, as a customer service rep for ComEd.” Zach plucked at the grass. “I told her about you.”

Cade tried to picture this unknown woman for whom Noah had apparently settled down. He felt a flash of protectiveness toward his own mother, who’d had to do everything on her own. “How’d that go over?”

“She thought it was great that you and I were spending time together.” Zach paused. “She’d like to meet you.”