Page 90 of Bound and Blitzed

“Abuela, I will call you back,” Valentina says, blowing kisses and ending the call.

She grins at me. Her dark hair pops against the crisp white, linen pillowcase and I’m relieved she has more color in her cheeks now that she’s out of the hospital and settled in our bed. “You have to go. I can’t believe you missed your flight with the team.”

“As if I would ever leave without knowing you’re safe,” I say, dipping to kiss her forehead. “My mom and Raia are here.”

“We’re gonna watch reality television and drink wine. Who cares about football?” Mom hollers.

Valentina smiles.

“Your mom and dad arrive tomorrow,” I remind her. Mr. and Mrs. Garcia were beside themselves when they heard the news of Valentina’s disappearance. As they had already landed in Spain, they bought return tickets to Tennessee and are coming to spend some time with Valentina while I show up for the playoffs.

But right now, the last thing I want to do is board a flight to Detroit.

“You’re going to miss your flight. I promise, Avery, I’m okay. We’re okay. Now go win your game.”

“I’m going,” I grumble, kissing her good-bye.

Valentina waves as I leave our bedroom.

“Go!” Raia says, pushing me toward the front door.

Cohen flew out with the team last night, but I refused to leave until Valentina was discharged from the hospital and safely tucked into our bed at home. Thankfully, Dr. Allen discharged her this morning.

While skipping out on football holds a series of consequences, nothing matters as much as my wife and the life we’re creating. Coach Strauss was understanding that I missed the flight out, but we both know I need to make it to the stadium before kickoff today.

“Thanks for coming, Mom,” I say, kissing my mother good-bye.

She smiles at me. “Any time.” She pats my cheek. “You know that. Good luck tonight.”

I hug Raia, call out one final farewell, and leave the condo.

Then, I head to the airport, fly to Detroit, and vow to win tonight’s game.

Detroit is a tough team but the Coyotes rally in a way that never ceases to amaze me.

“You ready, Cap?” Baglione asks.

“I’m ready,” I say, entering the locker room.

I don’t see any anger or frustration in my teammates’ eyes. Just pure understanding. Even Coaches Strauss and Stevens went easy on me, making sure Valentina was well taken care of before demanding I show up in Michigan.

“Let’s get out there. We’re gonna play hard and we’re gonna win!” I announce.

“Hell yeah, we are!” Gage backs me up.

The team comes together in a huddle, our shoulders bumping as we close our eyes and say a silent prayer. It’s not at all religious—spiritual, I suppose. It’s a minute of prayer, or manifestation, or visualization. It’s a moment of being together and seeing the shared outcome we all desire—tonight’s win.

When I close my eyes, Valentina’s face floats to the forefront of my mind. I’m going to win tonight’s game for her—and then I’m going to go home, wrap her in my arms, and never let her go.

“You did it!” she greets me the moment I walk into our condo.

“Felicidades, Avery,” Mrs. Garcia says, hugging me hello.

“Mrs. Garcia, hi,” I say.

She pulls away and gives me a long look and then, a genuine smile. “Please, call me Paloma.” She kisses both of my cheeks. “You are part Spanish now.”

I chuckle, a little bewildered by the warm reception.

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