Page 3 of The Air I Breathe

Reaching over to my bag, I carefully open the side pocket and pull out the bracelet with the phone number on it. I've had it for a full twenty-four hours—I'm just unsure if I want to put myself out there to another man, and in such a public way. It could make or break me, the question is whether or not I’m going to allow that to run my life anymore.

W: I'm still not sure if I want to.

C: He's not going to be like the other guy. He's not going to be scared to be seen with you, pissed because you have people following you wherever you go. He’s not going to be intimidated by you because you’re both in the same circles of business. He's the type of man who won't care that you wear heels because you're still not gonna be taller than him. It's time you let the trauma of that relationship go and put yourself out there.

I blow out a breath, taking another drink of my wine.

W: That's easy for you to say. Your relationships aren't scrutinized by the entire world. I guarantee you as soon as I show up in public with another man, they're going to say something like ‘I bet she'll be with someone else in five minutes,’ even though my last relationship was seven years. It's like they can't differentiate between the fact that I started in this business when I was a teenager, and now I'm old enough to actually be someone's mother.

C: No, I get that, and everyone else who knows you does too. I know it's hard to just ignore it, but I want you to be happy. I don't want you to sit in some hotel room by yourself and think about where you should be in your life.

C: I also want my fantasy football team to do well. Sue me.

I snort loudly, but a voice I'm beginning to recognize comes on the TV. It's Blake, on a commercial for a new SUV that's coming out. I take a moment to look at him as a woman looking at a man. He's hot. As my brother said, he's tall as fuck, with muscles built from hard work in the gym, kind eyes, a sexy smile, and the mustache? Well, I could do without that. Maybe I could talk him into a beard?

W: Whatever, Conner. I love you, but I'm going to bed.

C: Love you too. Remember my team needs to do well.

I roll my eyes and click out of our text chain. There's a reason I'm not able to perform in Tampa one of the next two nights, and considering one of them is a Sunday, I wonder if it's because of a game. Pulling up the Tampa schedule, my heart beats harder when I see the Tampa team is playing the Warriors on Sunday.

I can't stop thinking about it—doing something different and having a secret for myself. One of my sound guys has a brother who plays for the Warriors. I quickly find his name and send off a text.

W: If I give you something to give to your brother to pass along for me, do you think he'll do it?

I don't expect him to answer me immediately, but he does. Sure. He'll do anything for you.

W: Thank you!

One of the things I always carry with me, when I travel, is a friendship bracelet kit. I made them when I was little, and they've become a thing for my fans to share at my concerts. Pulling my boxes out, I sit down on the couch with my legs tucked under me, crisscross apple sauce, and painstakingly pick out what I want to put on it. My fingers slightly shake as I slide the beads on the string and wonder if what I'm doing is the right thing or not.

As I tie off the string, I give myself a small smile, and send up a prayer. Whatever will be will be—and I hope with everything I have that it'll be a happy ending.

Chapter Three

Blake

I'm sitting in the locker room at Tampa. Typically we'll do walk-throughs before away games at home, but they're having to fix part of our turf in Nashville. Instead of our normal routine, we're debriefing here as well, and then we'll have the afternoon to ourselves before we have to report to the team hotel. I’m sitting next to my brother, laughing at a text our mom has sent us with photos of us as children.

"Got something for you," Moose, our left tackle on the offensive line, says as he interrupts with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"You know my brother works for Willa, right? He's her sound tech. She gave him something to pass along."

The locker room goes quiet as we stare at each other. He hands me a package wrapped in brown craft paper. My name is stamped on it, and a lavender ribbon is tied around it with a bow.

"Open it."

"Oh my God, is that from who I think it's from?"

"She responded, Blake. Holy fuck." Bret smacks me on the chest.

Everything the guys are saying is everything I'm feeling right now, but I don't want to do this in front of them. "Thanks for the confidence you all had in me. Don't think I didn't hear all the shit you talked." I point to each of them in turn. "Because of that, you don't get to see what this is."

I bypass the showers, get dressed in street gear, and head out to the rental car I have for this trip. When I get inside and lock the doors, I breathe deeply. Do I want to open it here, where anyone might be able to watch? Where one of my teammates can roll up on me and ruin the moment? No, that's not what I want. Quickly, I start the SUV and put it in gear, heading for the hotel.

It's a long ride up in the elevator, but as soon as I make it to my room, I throw my shit down and tear open the package. On the bracelet, it says text me - along with a phone number.