He nodded.
We waited in line forever and worked out our attack plan of player interviews. Michael claimed Brody and a defensive lineman who’d recovered a fumble. Indie had mentioned seeing Michael at the gym this morning, and I had a feeling that she had filled him in a little—enough to make sure I didn’t have to interview Brody. I was grateful for the reprieve. I picked two of the less exciting players, careful to also stay away from Colin, who happened to have had the best game of his career. It meant the lines for my interviews would be the shortest.
I tried to avoid stealing glances at Brody, but my eyes didn’t follow my brain’s direction. He was wearing his signature towel wrapped around his waist, but his cocky smile was nowhere to be found. At one point, Nick, Michael and I were standing in the open center of the locker room, and my eyes locked with Brody’s. He was between interviews and waiting for Angie Snow and her cameraman to finish setting up to film. A pang of jealousy hit me. Angie was gorgeous—young, blonde, curvy and very touchy-feely. She said something to him and reached out to touch his arm, and I had to look away. But like a bad car accident, I went back for more gore.
Brody’s eyes flitted back and forth between Angie and me as he spoke to her while her cameraman tinkered with his equipment. I was so preoccupied with watching the two of them, I didn’t realize Michael had asked me a question and was waiting for a response.
“Delilah?”
“Hmmm?” I turned to Michael.
He furrowed his brow. Then leaned into me and whispered, “We can handle this if you need to take a break.”
I assured him I was fine and just a little overwhelmed by the craziness of my first playoff locker room trip. When Michael had leaned down to me, his hand had gone to the small of my back. I hadn’t even realized it was still there until I saw the look on Brody’s face. His eyes were burning into where Michael was touching me. He looked furious, about to blow. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights when his eyes lifted to meet mine.
Angie’s cameraman said something, and Brody’s attention was forced back to the impending interview. Just as the light flashed on Brody and the cameraman lifted his camera into position, Brody glanced over at me one more time. It was the exact same minute Michael leaned in again to say something. I grimaced as I watched Brody’s face shift from angry to an evil smile.
He turned his focus back to Angie, and she shot her first question off. His response played out in slow motion for me. He grinned wide, then his hand slowly went to the knot at his towel, and he gave it a little tug. It fell to the ground. I didn’t stick around to watch the rest—I already knew what came next. And my guess was that Angie wouldn’t put up half the fight that I had.
Chapter 39
Delilah
January 15th—Drew would have been twenty-six today. This was the first year that I wouldn’t be spending his birthday with his family. Mr. Martin had retired a few months back and had finally convinced Mrs. Martin to move to Atlanta, where Drew’s sister already lived. I was happy for them, but when they packed, it meant they had to pack up Drew’s things. Even last year, six years after Drew died, his room had been untouched when I went over to celebrate his birthday.
The car ride out to the cemetery was long. I was alone with my thoughts and tried to recall memories of the good times Drew and I shared. Homecoming, senior year in high school. I smiled. Some of the guys from the team had booked a few hotel rooms, and we all went back after the game.
That first time Brody kissed me in his hotel room, it hit me so hard, I wouldn’t have been able to stand if he wasn’t holding me so tight.
I forced Brody from my head. Again. It was becoming a full-time job lately. A plane from the nearby airport was flying low overhead in front of me. I remembered back to when Drew and I flew to Alabama to meet the football coach of the college he was planning on attending. It was my first flight, and my nerves were on edge. Drew had held my hand and calmed me by telling dirty jokes.
Brody took my breath away on the plane with a kiss and tried to stick his hand up my skirt under the blanket.
I switched on the radio station. It only jumbled my mind more.
Pulling up to the cemetery, my phone buzzed, so I put it on speakerphone and sat in my car to talk.
“Hi, Mrs. Martin.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jana, dear?”
I smiled. “Hi, Jana.”
“That’s better. How are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m good. How are things in Atlanta?”
“Hot.”
I looked at the temperature on the dashboard. Thirty-five. “Wish I could say the same.”