Heaven and Hell (66 page)

Sam was drawing random patterns on my hip
but I doubted his eyes were watching.

After Sam kissed me, he dragged me out of
the house, down the street and he hailed a cab. Then he shoved me
in it, told the driver his hotel and ordered me to text Celeste to
let her know I wouldn’t be home until the next morning.
Late
the next morning. And when I went there, it was only to pick up my
stuff.

I texted Celeste, the taxi took us to Sam’s
hotel then Sam dragged me out of the cab and up to his room.

The door barely closed before he was kissing
me. Half my clothes were gone before we got to the bed.

And there we stayed for hours as Sam
welcomed me home and I returned the favor.

Now was now.

And I was watching my hand move on his
fantastic chest thinking a year ago I had nothing and now I had
everything.

Everything.

And I wasn’t talking about millions of
dollars, a ridiculously expensive robe and a beach house.

All that could be gone and the man who was
lying beside me all that was left and I’d still be a girl with
everything.

On this thought, Sam’s voice came to me.

“You want it all?”

I stopped drawing, lifted my head and looked
at him to see his eyes on me.

They were sober.

All he gave me before, he wasn’t done.

Oh man.

Well, the only answer to his question was
affirmative.

I wanted it all. The dark, the light, the
good, the bad, the laughter, the fights.

All of it.

When it came to Sam, I was greedy that
way.

So I lifted up, shifted and then settled
down mostly on his chest, my gaze never leaving his.

Then I whispered, “Yes.”

“I’m in a situation.”

Great. He was not an ex-commando, he was a
current one.

This could mean anything.

“What situation?” I asked carefully.

“Got a dead best friend, a dead brother and
now, lyin’ on me, a woman who’s worth it. I don’t need the money so
I don’t need the work. It’s time to leave the unit.”

Thank you, God.

Thank you, God.

I didn’t verbalize this thought or, say, get
up and dance around the room.

I just nodded.

“So what do I do?” Sam asked.

When he said no more, I asked back, “Is this
an essay question or are you going to give me multiple choice?”

He grinned then both his arms wrapped around
me and he pulled me full on him.

I left a hand at the warmth of his chest but
wrapped my other one around his neck, my thumb moving lazily
against the stubble of his square jaw and he spoke.

“Three offers from three different networks.
They’ve been on the table awhile. They know the others are gunnin’
for me and they keep pushin’ it. I thought they’d back down but
they haven’t. They think I’m playin’ hardball so they keep offerin’
more shit. Now the pay is off the charts.”

“Networks?”

“Television networks. Sports shows. One
offer is to join a panel, Sunday game banter. One is for my own
show, once a week for the football season, talk about football,
have guests, shit like that. One is to be the man on the field and
in the locker room, interview coaches and players.”

Although for your average man, your
not-so-average man and your seriously cool man, all of these
sounded awesome.

But I could not see Sam doing any of them.
In fact, it kinda weirded me out in a bad way just to think about
it.

This must have been written on my face
because Sam’s arms got tight around me and he burst out
laughing.

I watched.

I missed that.

And he loved it that I gave him that.

I missed it so much and I knew he loved it
so much that it actually hurt having it back. It wasn’t a beautiful
pain, it was just pain.

I wasted a month of our lives and it
hurt.

It wasn’t stupid, I followed my heart and it
led Sam back to me, all of him.

Still, it hurt.

Sam stopped laughing and his eyes focused
back on me when he explained, “Your face, honey, says exactly what
I keep thinkin’.”

“Okay so A, B and C are out. Is there a D?”
I asked.

“Got an offer to be the Defensive
Coordinator for an NFL team. Again, pay is good but it doesn’t have
to be. I got all that I need and if I didn’t, my woman is
loaded.”

That got him a grin.

Sam grinned back.

“Well, that sounds like you like the idea
better but you’re obviously not doing cartwheels about it,” I
noted.

Sam’s grin got bigger as he told me, “Never
did a cartwheel in my life.”

“Mental cartwheels,” I explained.

“Never did those either.”

“Sam!” I snapped, slapping his chest. “You
know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he kept grinning then his face grew
thoughtful. “They’re dumpin’ the guy they got. He’s performing,
it’s politics. The head coach doesn’t like him and the head coach
is
not
performing. Thinks he’s competition and he’d be
right. Higher ups aren’t smart enough to see the head coach is
talkin’ them into dumpin’ the only talent they have on the coaching
squad. I do not need that shit in my life.”

“No, you don’t,” I agreed. “Is there
possibly a choice F?”

That was when Sam’s face grew even more
thoughtful.

“Talked to Tanner,” he said and I thought I
knew where he was going. Sam was thinking about becoming a private
investigator which would be cool…
ish.
It also might
continue to be dangerous which was something I wasn’t a big fan
of.

“And?”

“His boys play ball. Their coach just got
heaved. Physically abused his son right on the field then did some
other crazy shit and now he’s in prison.”

Whoa.

“College?” I asked.

“High school,” he answered and I
blinked.

“High school?” I queried. “A high school in
Indiana?”

I didn’t know what to think about this.
Would we sell the beach house?

I didn’t want to sell the beach house.

“No, baby, they promoted from within. Those
boys are already training. That’s not an option.”

My face dipped closer to his and I said
softly, “It would be an option for Sampson Cooper. Any high school
program would consider you for their coach. They’d freaking love
it.”

“I use my name and celebrity without
anything to prove I got what it takes, the coaching squad won’t
love it and if I don’t have a decent team loyal to me at my back,
the boys pay.”

I was confused.

“So this isn’t option F?”

“I told you that because it gave me the
idea. The Kingston Wildcats’ coach retired last season after twenty
years. They hired a new guy out of Texas. Their training has
started too. When I got home two days ago, found you gone, took off
to find you. But while I was home, one thing I did learn ‘cause
Skip talked to Hap, Hap made some inquiries and Skip, Hap and Luci
were waitin’ for me at the beach house when I got home.”

Uh-oh.

Sam went on.

“Hap and Luci were itchin’ to lay into me,
plain to see, but they didn’t get in a word. Skip chewed me out
then after I told all of them to take a hike, they didn’t. I left
them on the deck, found your note, made my own decision. They all
followed me in, I told them I had shit to see to, they got it,
cooled off and
then
Skip shared that the new coach was
already caught helpin’ kids to get juiced so he’s out on his ass.
The team has no coach. The old guy came outta retirement to take up
the reins again and he loves the game but when you make a decision
that it’s the end, it’s the end. His heart isn’t in it. He wants to
be fishin’.”

I decided it was best to process the
Skip/Hap/Luci drama at a later date and asked, “So do you want to
coach a high school football team?”

“My degree is in education and I never used
it.”

I smiled at him. “So you want to coach a
high school football team.”

He stared at me.

Then he said quietly, “That’s when it’s
exciting. The boys are young, they know what they’re doin’ but they
still got a lot to learn. They’re hungry. College, part of ‘em is
hard, part of ‘em is soft and greedy. It’s about the game just as
much as it’s about tail and, if you’re good, money. My coach in
high school was the shit. He taught me early that I should always
focus on the game.” He smiled then continued, “That’s not to say I
didn’t take my share of tail and wasn’t glad to get the money but
all the way to the pros, it was about the game, the team, winning.
Having that served me well when I enlisted. I already understood
team. I understood focus. I understood doing what it takes to
win.”

“So coach high school football.”

His arms gave me a squeeze and his face got
serious.

“Baby, this is it, this is us, you and me,
that’s the future. You wanna tie yourself to a high school football
coach?”

All right.

That pissed me right… the fuck… off.

And Sam saw it or felt it or both.

“Kia?” he called.

“You know, it sucks you’re big, tall, strong
and fast because I’d like to get a punch in right about now and I
figure you have the skills to deflect it.”

His brows drew together. “Come again?”

“Sam,” I hissed, my face getting super close
to his. “You told me you had a burning desire to clean toilets,
sure, that would kinda freak me out but if that’s what you wanted
to do, I would not care. Be a janitor. Be a high school football
coach. Have your own network talk show. Build Zen gardens. I don’t
care. If this is it, you and me, that’s all I need. Just as long as
I’m me and you’re Sam and we’re happy. What you just asked is about
Sampson Cooper and I’m not in love with
him.
”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Yes it was.”

He stared at me.

Then he grinned.

Then he muttered, “Fuck, it was.”

I rolled my eyes.

Sam rolled me to my back with him on top of
me.

Then he asked, “You’re cool with me being a
janitor?”

I rolled my eyes again.

Sam’s body shaking with laughter shook mine
and I rolled my eyes back to him.

Then, in all seriousness, I answered,
“Yes.”

Sam’s laughter died.

Then with warm intensity in his eyes, he
whispered, “Fuck, I love you.”

My anger died and my arms slid around
him.

Then I smiled at him.

Then I whispered back, “Good.”

Heaven

One year later…

“Hey, Mrs. Cooper!” I heard shouted and I
looked up from the tray of sliced tomatoes, onions and lettuce
leaves I was arranging to the front door.

Three of Sam’s boys were crowded there,
grinning at me.

“Yo,” I replied.

Their grins got bigger. They knew me and
thought I was a dork. In fact, Demaine, who was standing there, was
brash and hilarious and at the barbeque Sam and I had for the boys
at the end of last season, told Sam right out, “Your woman is hot,
Mr. Cooper, but she’s a total dork.”

Sam had burst out laughing and replied, “You
are not wrong.”

I didn’t take offense. My husband thought I
was hot so I figured I was allowed to be a dork.

I gave them a half wave; they gave me chin
lifts and moved out to the crowded deck.

This year’s barbeque was pre-season as Sam
decreed from here on out it would be. Pre-season barbeque at our
house, post-season party at Skippy’s Crab Shack. Team building. No
parents. No girlfriends. Only coaches, boys and me.

Considering last year Sam grilled hamburgers
(that I made), hotdogs (that Sam “prepared” by expending the effort
of slicing open the package with a knife) and brats (again with Sam
and a knife) and I did everything else, I disregarded Sam’s “team
and Mrs. Cooper only” rule and called in reinforcements.

That was why Maris, Mom, Dad, Luci, Hap and
Skip were there.

Well, I didn’t call Skip. He just showed as
Skip was wont to do randomly and with relative frequency but always
in a bad mood about something though it usually (and luckily)
wasn’t about Sam or me. He currently wasn’t doing anything but
drinking our beer and being surly but, whatever. The kids thought
he was a stitch mainly because he was.

My eyes scanned the deck and I smiled to
myself.

Then my eyes dropped to what my hands were
doing and I caught sight of my wedding rings.

My smile got huge.

Sam was Sam, always and to everyone who even
slightly knew him.

But my wedding rings were the wedding rings
worn by the wife of Sampson Cooper.

It was safe to say Sam did not fuck around
when he bought me my wedding rings. The solitaire was enormous, set
high, the platinum band embedded with smaller diamonds. The wedding
band also was set with diamonds. It was not borderline
ostentatious. It just was.

I loved it.

Obviously, Sam and I got married. Sam wore a
tux, a dove gray vest that looked hot on him, no tie or shoes and
the hems of his trousers folded up over his ankles. He looked
beautiful. I wore a Massimo wedding gown that
way
beat the
shit out of the gown I wore to marry Cooter. I also was barefoot. I
knew I looked fantastic mainly because Sam told me so repeatedly
that day as well as after that day, in fact, he reminisced about
“how fuckin’ gorgeous” I looked while studying our framed wedding
picture just yesterday. We tied the knot on the anniversary of the
day we met and had breakfast. We did it on the beach in front of
Sam’s house. We did it with only close family and friends in
attendance. And we managed to do it without the media catching
on.

After it was over, Sam’s agent released a
photo of us to the paper. Then Sam released his agent. He didn’t
need him anymore. Sam had made his decision. He no longer had a
public life. No more guest appearances on sports shows. No more
anything. He had other things to occupy his time.