City of Champions (36 page)

"Thank you very much," she answered, with a playful smirk.

"But I was hoping you could take some time away from the whole doctor thing. After New Year’s, how about we go to Mexico together? I know this great place in Cabo San Lucas. It's really private, so you'll just need that tiny bikini I got you for Christmas. We'll swim together again. I'll let you practice that great stroke of yours some more. You can rub ice all over me there, too."

"Oh, that sounds so wonderful," she muttered quietly, all that nervousness taking over her face again. She looked away and said, "But, I don't think I can get away."

"Come on. Okay, what about a weekend away?"

He turned her face to his and her eyes looked wet with unshed tears.

"All right, that's it. I was patient a couple days ago, but not anymore. Tell me what the hell is going on with you."

Jenna stared at him, the fear and sadness on her face sending a chill of anxiety through his body. His heart started to pound violently in his chest. 

"A couple days after you first kissed me, I had my annual exam. They found lumps."

Wyatt felt like a three-hundred-pound lineman had just barreled helmet first into his gut. All the breath left his body and he was having a hell of a time making sense of the words Jenna was saying to him.

"What do you mean? Are you saying you could have…"

"Cancer? They don't know. The tumors are borderline benign and malignant."

"What does that mean? What happens next?"

"They need to take them out. It's a surgery called a lumpectomy. That's happening on January third."

"Will they put you under anesthesia? Is it dangerous?"

"Yes it will be general anesthesia. I guess it's no more dangerous than any other surgery."

"You
guess
?" Wyatt's head was spinning, his chest twisting with worry. The thought of Jenna being put under and possibly never waking up was terrifying, but not as much as the chance she could have a devastating condition he was powerless to fight. Jenna tried to give him a comforting smile, clearly distressed by his response.

"The surgical team is excellent, so that part of the treatment should go smoothly. It will be painful afterward…" Jenna paused and looked away from him for a moment, then met his eyes again. "I may not look the same."

"But the surgery will take care of everything? You'll be okay, right?"

"If they are cancerous and have already spread… Well, that would be really bad. Even if they find the tumors aren't cancerous, I need to go through radiation, no matter what. These tumors can come back if I'm not aggressive. So you see, I can't go anywhere…"

Wyatt pulled her tightly against him.

"I want to be there," Wyatt said roughly.

"Where?"

"The surgery, the radiation, all of it. I want to help you."

"You don't have to do that, Wyatt. It's an ugly process. Believe me, I know."

"I can take it. Are you telling me you don't want me to be there for you?"

"It's not that, Wyatt. Tumors like this are what killed my mother. Hers were malignant. After months of chemo, she was so weak she contracted pneumonia that severely affected her respiration. She went into sudden cardiac arrest… I was there when it happened. I won't ever put someone through that, not
any
of it."

"I hate that you had to go through that, but this isn't your choice, Jenna. I want to be there with you. I'm
going
to be there for you.
My sister got really sick when she was seven. Juvenile diabetes. But before we got it under control, we almost lost her. I'll go nuts if I'm not there with you. What about your friends? Your dad? Will they be there?"

"No. I didn't tell them. Trey is taking me to the surgery."

Red flashed before Wyatt's eyes. "What? You're going to let him be there, but not me?"

"It's not like that. He's the only other person that knows. I didn't even mean to tell him. He overheard me talking to the doctor. I can't put my dad, or Tea and Aubrey through that."

"You're just going to hide it from them?"

"Have you ever kept a secret or done something you aren't proud of to help take care of people you love, Wyatt?"

He swallowed so hard it hurt. Wyatt knew all too well about that.

"Yes…I have."

"Then you understand why I can't tell them."

"I guess I do."

"Thank you, Wyatt."

He held her closely to him with his left arm for several minutes, as the news she gave him steadily sunk into his brain.

"And this was why you were so upset when my family visited?"

"Yes. Wyatt, if this turns out badly, there's a chance I can't have kids. Hell, it's possible
I
don't make it through. You didn't sign on for all this. It's okay if you just let me go."

"I'm not going to do that, Doc. So you can just knock that shit off right now."

Jenna leaned back and looked at him, stroking the hair away from his face. She placed a soft and soothing kiss on his forehead, before gazing into his eyes.

"Okay, you can come with me to the hospital on the third. I'll tell Trey I don't need a ride to the surgery anymore." She stood up off his lap and he immediately reached for her again. She smiled softly at him. "I'm going to take a shower. I know you took one after the game, but do you want to join me?"

Wyatt nodded and she removed the wrap and ice pack from his shoulder. "Let's go," Wyatt said, but as he moved to get up his phone rang in his bag before he could touch her.

"Dammit, that's the ringtone for my agent. I have to take it. I'll meet you in there."

"Hey Gabe, what's up?" Wyatt grunted out in greeting, watching Jenna disappear into his bedroom.

"Hey, man. You sound like shit, are you okay?"

"Sure, I'm fine. Just tired."

"You played great out there today. Did they give you another cortisone shot to your shoulder before the game?"

"Yeah, those work wonders."

"So, you wanted me to find out who was jockeying to be your backup? Well, I talked to all my contacts at the Roughnecks and i
t looks like that Chase Matthews guy who's been playing in Atlanta the last few years is in talks to go to Pittsburgh for next season."

"What? That can't happen, he can't come to Pittsburgh."

"He started for several weeks in Atlanta and he'll definitely try for the starting spot in Pittsburgh."

"We need to block him, he can't come here."

"Christ, Wyatt, after what you did in Dallas, you have no credibility here."

"I know it looked bad that I wouldn't train my replacement, but that was business. This is different."

"How?"

"I can't tell you. Chase Matthews is a problem. He can't come here."

"Wyatt, I can't help you if you won't be honest with me. Look, if you get cut or traded, you won't even see this Chase guy. And the way things are looking, with your shoulder and their locker room worries, that's probably what's going to happen. If your shoulder's really not better, they're going to trade you."

"Fuck."

"You've played great the last few weeks and they've noticed your attitude has improved. They are skeptical whether it will last, though, especially if the surgery diagnosis sticks. Plus, they still worry about your long-term leadership qualities. Other teams have seen how great you've played. I may be able to get you a starting gig in San Diego."

"That's the other side of the goddamn country!"

"Wyatt, you're not making any sense. I thought you wanted to start no matter what?"

After all these years of playing, he could lose everything he'd fought so hard for — a safe and secure way of life for him and his family that would last as long as they were alive. Yet, for the first time, that didn't matter to him.

All he could think about was that if he left Pittsburgh, he could lose Jenna. She needed him to be there for her during the terrifying struggle she was facing.

As if that weren't bad enough, the idea of that bastard Chase being in the same city as her without Wyatt there to protect her made him want to punch his fist through the wall.

Suddenly, Wyatt felt more desperate than ever for her to change her opinion about his shoulder.

I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't,
he thought to himself bitterly.
If I don't get her on my side, I'm traded and far away from her most of the year. If she finds out I tried to use her to sway her opinion about me, then she hates me for it.
Well, isn't this
some fucking shit?

Wyatt could hear Jenna in his shower. Every muscle in his body was tense with the desire to join her and have all that pretty blonde hair and smooth flesh covered in water and open to him.

Wyatt curled his hand into a fist.

I won't give up this easily.

"Gabe, schedule a meeting for us with the team for the week after New Year’s. Tell them that we are going to change their minds."

Water sprayed across Jenna's face, sliding down her throat and between her breasts, before splashing onto the smooth marble tiles beneath her feet. She turned her body to allow the stream to wet her hair and traverse her back. Each drop tickled and teased her body, like thousands of tiny wet kisses.

Since her time with Wyatt had begun, it felt like every part of her was more alive and awake than ever before. Amidst that euphoria, she was also incredibly confused. The whole purpose of this arrangement had been to break free from her serious life. Yet, instead of escaping from the terrifying realities of her life, Jenna was becoming more intensely connected to Wyatt with each passing moment. Even more troubling, she'd confessed her diagnosis to him.

Now he wanted to be there for her and the offer had left her feeling relieved and cared for in a way she couldn't recall ever experiencing. Rather than try to make sense of it, she chose simply to let the water rush across her skin.

Jenna tried to ignore the sense of disappointment she felt when Wyatt hadn't joined her in the shower, and turned off the water. She stepped out and wrapped a soft towel around her wet body, securing the ends between her breasts as best she could. She could just as easily have walked around naked, seeing as her body was truly no longer secret from Wyatt in any way.

It surprised her not to find him in the bedroom, but she quietly wandered down the stairs. She didn't see him in the living room, or any of the other rooms in his elegant house with which she had become familiar.

Jenna suddenly began to feel a little silly padding around his house on her wet feet, and was about to call out for him, when he suddenly came into view. He was seated in the shadows of the very formal sitting area she'd only barely noticed before. Her feet stopped so quickly at the sight of him she almost tripped.

The light in the first floor had darkened to a soft, hazy purple as dusk finally conquered the sun outside the windows overlooking the icy Allegheny River. Wyatt was sitting in the back of the dark den. He was still in his fine slacks and shirtless, just as when she'd placed the ice pack on his shoulder.

His whole form was encased in shadows, disturbed only by the flickering glow cast from the blazing fire next to him.

When had he started that? Christ, how long was I in the shower?
she wondered.

Not only had his location changed, so had his temper. He'd been concerned and caring before, but now, he looked as if he was downright brooding. Her stomach turned over with guilt at the thought she had made him sad with her news, a sign that the painful side of this process had already begun.

Jenna tried to discern the most logical approach to addressing the situation. Yet there were no charts to examine, no tests or X-rays, or blood work. There was only the tingling in her fingers and the heat of his stare, to guide her brain, and they were certainly no help. His gaze felt like it was boiling every wet droplet still on her skin or dripping incessantly from the ends of her hair.

"Come here," he commanded.

"Why?" she asked, attempting a teasing tone, though she felt her legs move independently from her body as she made her way over toward him.

The effect he had on her was unreal, like some kind of gravitational pull, and she knew he felt it, too. They were like two lonely and confused planets that had found each other and created their own solar system. Neither had any clear sense of which one of them had the more powerful force of attraction over the other. They just understood their paths were forever linked to the other.

Wyatt was sitting in an oversized, leather chair that looked like something Ernest Hemingway would've gotten drunk in after finishing
A Farewell to Arms
. Like the great writer, he looked equally tormented.