He leans forward, kisses me, and then leaves. The handwringing doesn’t stop until he comes back home a few hours later, which is much earlier than normal.
“Why are you back so early,” I ask.
He shrugs as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. “They put me in for a few passes, then we ran a few plays, and that’s it. Garavito is starting again on Sunday because coach wants me to focus on getting ready to play Boston.”
I freeze. “Boston?”
Even though most of Maverick’s memories returned, he’s still missing the reason we got back together. I’ve explained how Casey Ridge lied to him, and he’s even watched the video of Casey bragging about causing our breakup, but still no memories.
“Your first game starting after injury is against Boston?”
Maverick nods. “Yeah. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” The handwringing starts again but he places a steadying hand over mine. “Relax, Mia. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me doing my job.”
“Your job doesn’t scare me.”
“Then why are you freaking out about me starting against Boston?”
“Because I don’t want you to play with vengeance!” Seemingly out of nowhere, I start crying. Until then, I hadn’t realized how scared I was of Maverick starting again. Being a professional football player is his job, and there are players who get hit harder and more often than he does, but playing against Boston, against Casey Ridge, a man who maliciously hurt both of us, is a different beast.
He rushes forward to take me in his arms, his hand stroking my hair. He whispers to me softly, telling me to calm down, reassuring me nothing will happen. “Please, Mia,” he says in a soothing tone. “It will be okay.”
“I want to believe that,” I sob. “But what if—”
He silences me with a kiss. It’s soft and comforting, exactly what I need. “Just believe it, okay? Because I’m scared enough for the both of us.”
With his arm still around me, he leads me toward the opposite end of the condo, to the room he uses to watch game footage. Usually, he does this alone but tonight, he keeps me nearby while he studies plays and takes notes.
“Maverick.” My voice gets his attention. He pauses the video and glances at me. “You know I’m not going to be at that game, right?”
“Is this a joke? You have to be there.”
I shake my head. “No. You were injured during the last game I went to, and it was hell. Bad things happen when I go to your games.”
“Then I’m not playing.”
I sit up and stare at him. “Now who’s joking. You have to play, you’re the quarterback.”
“Maybe I’ll retire instead. I’ve got enough money to take care of us for the rest of our lives.”
“Be serious, Maverick.”
He leans forward, staring me right in the eye. “Listen to me, Mia. I need you at that game. Walking onto the field after an injury is like battling a fierce dragon. I can’t slay the dragon if you’re not there. You make me strong, baby, and I’m going to need all the strength I can get to beat Casey Ridge.”
I swallow. “How about a compromise?” He leans back and lifts his brows. “I’ll attend next weekend’s game. If the team wins, I’ll go to the Boston game. If the team loses, I stay home.”
He’s quiet for a moment and then nods, extending his hand. “Deal.”
Over the next few days, Maverick makes it a point to tell me how he’s worked with his back-up to improve his game. He details their practices for me every night over dinner, as if to prove the team will not lose on Sunday. I want to remind him anything can go wrong, there are no sure bets, and to not count his chickens before they’re all hatched, but I can’t bring myself to destroy his confidence.
“How are you feeling?” I make it a point to ask at dinner Friday night.
“Good. My arm is strong. Head’s fine. I’m ready to play,” he answers with a grin.
“But still no memories of the day we got back together?”
He shakes his head. “No, not completely. Just bits and pieces, but the doctor said it may take a while for everything to come back completely.”
“But the neurologist isn’t worried? All of your scans look good?”
