When I Need You (Need You #4)

With the first preseason game in the new stadium happening in two short days, I had purple, white and gold on the brain 24/7. Not only did I think about my part, I worried about Jensen because his part was much bigger than mine. Provided he was finally taken off the injured reserve list.

Since I’d never been involved with a pro football player, I wasn’t sure if this was his standard preseason behavior—pulling back, pulling in. Turning quiet and contemplative. I didn’t ask if this was the norm for him because I knew how he’d answer; there’d been no norm for him since his injury. So I let it go.

The only time he seemed like my Jensen was when he read Harry Potter to Calder.

Or after he crawled in bed with me.

My stomach did a little flip whenever I thought about how thoroughly Jensen showed me he was mine and I was his when the bedroom door closed. We were insatiable. Neither of us had had this type of intimacy before, so we craved that connection all the time.

All. The. Time.

I hadn’t understood how incredibly patient Jensen had been with me, letting the relationship build at my pace, masking his physical need—not just for sex but for affection—until I’d had a taste of his sexual appetite. The man wanted me morning, noon and night. Some days, he had me that often. I needed that body-to-body connection and release just as frequently. But I was glad I’d waited to share and explore that part of myself until Jensen because I trusted him with every aspect of my body—including my heart.

I’d gotten a message from Coach T to come in early before cheer practice. So as I paced in the spookily empty hallway outside of the conference room, I texted Daisy.

Me: Are you running late?

DO: Late for what?

Me: The meeting with Coach T.

DO: What meeting?

Me: The early one she called before tonight’s practice?

DO: ??? There’s no practice tonight. Didn’t you see that on the group text message?

I scrolled to my message list. The last message I’d gotten from Coach T had been sent as a private message. I had nothing new from the group for over twenty-four hours.

DO: What’s going on?

Me: I don’t know. I think I’m the only one here.

Before I could add that I’d started to get a bad feeling, the door to the conference room opened and Angela, liaison between the team and the national sports organization, stepped out. I’d only had dealings with her one time, and my bad feeling transformed into dread.

“Miss Michaels? We’re ready for you.”

Who’s we?

Don’t ask; just move your feet forward.

When I cleared the doorway, I saw six people at the conference table. I knew three of them. Coach T; Izzy, the media director; and that Brian guy who’d given the “follow the rules” speech months ago.

Months ago when I’d gotten so infuriated with Jensen for acting like we were friends.

Oh, if they only knew how things had changed since that day.

Maybe they did.

“Please, Miss Michaels, have a seat.”

They were spread out on one side of the table. I sat across from them like I was being cross-examined in court.

“I imagine you wonder why you’ve been called in today.” This came from the woman I didn’t know. No name tag, no indication of who she might be except efficient and annoyed.

“Sort of feels like I’m facing the Inquisition, and I’m woefully underdressed.” I’d worn my warm-up suit because hey . . . I thought I’d be headed to cheer practice after the meeting.

“We brought you here to ask a few questions.”

“Do I need an attorney present?” I said coolly, even when my stomach knotted.

“No. It pertains mostly to your contract.” She smiled.

Okay. Maybe this wasn’t what I’d feared.

“How well do you know Jensen Lund?”

And . . . yep. There it was.

Stick as close to the truth as possible. “I know him pretty well. He lives in my apartment building. LCCO, the charitable foundation that his family runs, sponsored my son’s summer camp. And I’ve cheered for The Rocket for the past four seasons as well as cheering for him when I was on the cheer team at the University of Minnesota.”

“Do you have a relationship with him?”

I have a beautiful relationship with him. He’s a wonderful, loving man and I’m so lucky, blessed and excited to have him in my life.

But I couldn’t say it. It killed me to say, “Yes. We’re friends,” instead.

None of them looked at each other, but they were all staring at me, as if I’d break in the silence.

Jensen always joked that the silent treatment was the best way to get me to talk.

Not this time.

“Do you have a personal relationship with Jensen Lund?” This from Brian, the blatherer.

“Are we personally friends?”

Brian imparted a condescending smile. “Come now. I think you know that’s not what we’re asking.”

Should I force them to ask me if I was intimately and sexually involved with Jensen? But if I did that, I’d have to answer honestly. Or did I answer this question and see if it changed the entire direction of the questioning?

“Yes, I have a personal friendship with Jensen Lund. Why is this relevant?”

“It’s relevant because we’ve been informed that you have a very personal relationship with Mr. Lund. The kind of personal relationship that is in direct violation of the contract you signed that expressly forbids any relationships between players and cheerleaders.”

Ask if they have proof. Ask who informed them.

“There are pictures,” Izzy from the PR center inserted. “We’ve managed to keep them out of the media.”

Then I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “Pictures of what? Of us coming and going from the same apartment building? Yes, that is a possibility because we both live there. Pictures of us talking at the LCCO children’s day camp? Yes, that is a possibility because my son attended that camp for three months, so Mr. Lund and I did converse on occasion.”

“But the situation, Miss Michaels, is those are not the pictures we’re referring to. We were given access to the footage of you and your son at a party at the Lund family estate. Arriving together, the three of you, in Jensen Lund’s vehicle.”

I seriously doubted they had pictures of that, since Jensen told me the security surrounding the Lund estate was near NSA levels. And if someone working security for the Lund family had decided to leak footage or images, they would’ve gone directly to the media outlets for big money. Because The Rocket wasn’t the only well-known member of that family. Footage would’ve included Jaxson “Stonewall” Lund, bad boy of the Chicago Blackhawks, and Axl “The Hammer” Hammerquist, of the Minnesota Wild and his wife, Annika Lund; they were still media darlings after Axl’s very public proposal last year. Trinity Lund had become the new “it” girl on the local art scene, not to mention the rest of the Lund family members who sponsored charitable events nearly every month and ran businesses all over the state.