Page 54 of The Run Option

She gives me a weak smile. “First my ankle, now a head injury. I’m a mess,” she says while pressing the ice to her head.

“I’m going to need to put you in a bubble,” I joke.

She laughs, then winces. “I already had a headache, and this certainly didn’t help.”

I’m sure the headache was brought on by the documentary crew asking so many questions, plus having us position ourselves in different ways and repeat things we said to each other too many times to make sure the shot was right.

“Why don’t you lay down? I can turn on a movie and you can just rest.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

“Do you want a pillow from your bed or will a throw pillow be okay?” I ask.

She smiles. “One of your many throw pillows will work.”

I chuckle at her reference to what she thought my house would look like. Hopefully, over time, we’ll laugh about her misconceptions about me, too.

I grab a pillow and position it at the end of the couch, then lay a blanket over top of her. She faces the TV, the ice pack able to balance on her head while she’s not moving. Once she’s settled, I sit down by her feet and grab the remote to turn on the TV.

“What would you like to watch?” I ask.

“Whatever your favorite movie is,” she replies, making me smile.

“Okay, but I have to warn you, it’s a typical football player choice.”

“Remember The Titans?” she guesses spot on and I laugh.

“You got it.”

“That’s okay with me. It’s my favorite football movie.”

“You have good taste, Mrs. Kingsley.”

I click play, and settle back against the couch. After the stress of today, I think this movie will be good for me, too.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Willow says as the movie title flashes on the screen.

“I meant what I said on our wedding day,” I say, daring to let my hand rest on her blanket-covered feet.

“I know.”

My heart warms. Those two little words hide a depth of meaning that gives me hope. Maybe I’m doing something right for once in my life.

Chapter twenty-five

Willow Kingsley

Another weekend, another game day. Except this one isn’t a Lions game. Today is Saturday, and we’re in Atlanta to visit Jason’s college team, the Thrashers, and his brother, who’s playing for them. We drove over this morning and we’ll be staying the night tonight. I blink away thoughts of sharing a hotel room with Jason. I need to focus on looking like the perfect wife of a football player. Especially since I could be shown on national television any moment now.

I hold my smile in case the cameras shift to me while I watch Jason sit beside a selection of sports commentators, giving his predictions on who will win today’s games. It’s not hard to smile at him though. He’s made quite a few jokes, and even gotten the crowd hyped up quite a few times. When it does come time for him to retire, he’d make a great commentator on a sports show.

“Okay, now for the biggest game of the week, the one we’re here today for, Georgia versus North Carolina. Who do you have winning?” one of the announcers, Van, asks.

They go down the line, all but one having answered that the Thrashers would come out on top. When it gets to Jason, he looks over at me, a smile on his face. I know he’s ecstatic to be here. When he got the call to be on the show, his whole face lit up. His excitement has been contagious to say the least, and I’ve felt the buzz of adrenaline all morning. So when he nods like he wants me to come up there, I find myself walking toward the stage without hesitation.

It’s good publicity. That’s why I’m doing it. Probably why he’s doing it too. I shouldn’t interpret it any other way.

“While I could give my choice on my own, I’d love to share this special moment with my wife,” Jason says. A chorus of ‘aws’ sounds out. My face feels warm as I take Jason’s hand so he can help me up onto the makeshift stage and over to the semicircle table they’re all sitting at.

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