Rushed(60)

I hug her back, not caring for the moment what anyone else is seeing or thinking. “Really. I love you, and I won't leave you even if they offered me ten million dollars a season. They could offer me ten million a game and I won't leave your side.”

I lift her up, kissing her gently, losing myself in the sensation of her lips on mine. When I set her down, she's crying, and I think I might be too, although you can't tell with the sweat. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

April laughs and shakes her head. “Absolutely nothing at all . . . except that I love you, and I'll go anywhere with you.”

“Then let's go home, because I want to celebrate.”

“Go get a shower,” April says, smiling and patting my chest. “We'll discuss the details when the cameras aren't on.”

I turn and see that the camera crew is still filming, and that I'm surrounded by teammates and other team personnel, and it's my turn to feel hot and turn bright red. “Okay, good point. Uh guys, I'm calling dibs on the shower.”

“Like hell!” someone calls, and suddenly, there's a stampede toward the showers, and I'm left with just Coach, Mr. Larroquette, and April. Even the camera crew is making their way off, and I shake my head.

“I guess I should have waited until I had a head start before saying anything.”

Coach chuckles and shakes his head. “Wouldn't have mattered. After that little show, you know the press conference afterward is going to have at least a dozen questions for you.”

“Oh yeah . . . the press conference.”

April pats my chest lovingly and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “It doesn't matter, I'll wait for you.”

I'm in the shower in fact when Coach comes in, his face concerned. “Tyler . . . forget the press conference.”

I run my hand through my hair and shake the water out of my eyes, concerned. “What's wrong?”

“April just got a phone call from the hospice . . . her father.”

I rush out of the shower and run across the locker room, rubbing my towel over my body so fast and hard that I'm bright pink as I yank my underwear, team pants and t-shirt over my head. A few of the guys are still getting dressed, but I ignore them all as I leave the locker room to find April in the hallway, crying silently. “April . . . oh baby . . . I'm so sorry. Is he?”

April nods, and I pull her in close, letting her collapse into my arms, no longer having to be strong for at least a little while. “He . . . just now,” she sobs, and I feel tears in my own eyes, even though I met him only once. “They said he never woke up.”

“Then let's go talk to the GM. We're going straight to London from here, okay?”



The team is great, and April and I are on a private jet to London by midnight, saving us the wait of a connecting flight in Calgary. Mr. L. even told me that the team would cover the cost of the flight, but I tell him that I want to pay at least half for it. “Take it out of the game checks for the rest of the season,” I tell him while April gets into the taxi. “I'm serious, you pay for the whole thing, and I throw four interceptions next week.”

On the plane, April's preoccupied, and I go over, sitting next to her. The plane's a Lear, with supposedly plenty of legs to make the whole trip in one shot. One advantage is that we've got luxury accommodations, including a bed. Not what I'd planned, but considering that it was the only jet with range available, I'll take it.

“I'm glad you were able to say goodbye,” I tell her, putting an arm around her shoulders. In the taxi, she'd tearfully told me about her trip to London Thursday, and how she'd kissed her father goodbye. Still, with the situation being what it is now, it hurts. “You said he smiled a little at that, right?”

April nods, and takes my hand. She gets up and takes my hand, pulling me with her. “He did. But right now, I need to try to rest.”

We go to the back of the plane, where a partition separates the bed area from the rest of the cabin. It's a small bed, some weird size bigger than a full but smaller than a queen, and I guess it's custom built for the plane, I have no idea. April and I lay down, and I pull her in tight, just letting her draw comfort from me.

Slowly, with no intention other than trying to comfort her, I stroke her hair, running my hands up and down her back when she turns into me, wrapping her left arm around me. “I'm sorry.” she whispers. “I pressured you to stay here in Canada.”

I shake my head and kiss her forehead. “No, you didn't. I made my decision for a lot of other reasons. The biggest one is you. I want to stay with you.”

April looks up at me, and suddenly pulls me down into a softer, more intimate kiss than we'd exchanged all night. “Tyler… I need this.”

I look into her eyes and nod slowly in understanding. Adam gave us his blessing, and I know that, regardless of anything else, April is my One, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, the woman that, some day perhaps, I want to have children with. There are so many reasons to make love, and this time, we're reaffirming life.

I kiss her gently, pulling her up on top of me, caressing her body through my old jersey and jeans, letting her set the pace. Her hair hangs over both of our faces, cutting off almost all the light and wrapping us in a dim private world. “I love you,” I whisper as she leans in and kisses me again.