The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,176
toward the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. Aiden stood there at the fifty-yard line, just shy of crossing over with his hands on his hips facing me. I knew those tendons along his neck well, I could see the tightness in his shoulders that no one else would be able to pick up on, even the angle in which he held his wrists told me a story.
Disappointment flowed deep in that big body.
I lifted my hand up and gave him a wave.
He didn’t wave back, and I wasn’t totally surprised. A male broken heart was a difficult thing to come back from.
So I did the only thing I could think of that he would understand, I lowered my waving hand, placed it in front of my belly and I raised up my middle finger like I had all the other hundreds of times I’d done it in the past when I thought he wasn’t looking.
And with his helmet still on, The Wall of Winnipeg shook his head, and I knew that was pretty much a laugh.
“Hey, you don’t fucking flip off Aiden Graves!” an angry male voice yelled at me from down my row.
I looked over, ignoring Zac’s closely looming body, more than likely preparing himself to defend my honor, and gave the man defending Aiden a calm smile. “He’s my husband.”
In the blink of an eye, the rough, older man who had yelled completely cooled down. I caught him taking a peek at my hand, where sure enough, my brand new ring was. I found myself looking at it at least twenty times a day and touching it another twenty times. I still couldn’t believe he’d given it to me. “You shitting me?” he barked.
“No.” I had a Graves jersey on.
“Oh.” Just like that, it was fine. “Carry on.” The man paused and seemed to think for a moment. “Would you tell him Gary from Denton hopes he doesn’t leave this shitty team? Excuse my French, but we’re fucked without him.”
What else was I supposed to say? “Okay. I will.” But by the time I glanced back at the field, the big guy had disappeared.
“That was awful,” Zac deadpanned.
The scoreboard was still lit up, mocking fans and the players who had by that point disappeared.
31-14.
Sheesh.
“I think we need to get the hell out of here,” Zac said from behind me as two people in the stands about five rows up started yelling at each other.
Yeah we did. “Come on,” I said, pointing toward where we needed to go. He put his hand on my shoulder and followed after me.
I squirmed my way through the masses walking up the stairs en route to the exit. The fans were so loud my ears ached. Fully conscious of the two passes in my pocket, I turned around by the concession stands as I found a small area that was out of the way of the human traffic trying to exit.
“Are you going to the family room?” he yelled so I could hear him.
The score loomed in my head and I shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want to go?”
Zac shot me a look that reminded me of Aiden’s favorite one. “No.” That had been a stupid question, but he was kind enough not to point it out. “But you should.”
Going up to my tippy-toes, I said into his ear, “I don’t think he’d want to see me right now.”
He stepped back and clearly mouthed, “Go.”
I took a step toward him again. “I don’t like the idea of just dumping you and making you drive home alone,” I explained. “Plus, what if he doesn’t want to take me home?”
“Get outta here, Van. You’re not dumpin’ me, and we both know how Aiden’s takin’ this right now. Go. I might getta drink before I get home, but call if you need me.”
Yeah, I wasn’t feeling very optimistic or hopeful. I knew Aiden. I knew how he got after losses, especially a playoff loss that tanked so badly. Sure, maybe I’d slightly amused him by flipping him off, but I was pretty worried about going to see him.
Well shit. What was he going to do? Yell at me?
I didn’t consider myself a coward. Screw it.
With a hug and a promise that he wouldn’t drive drunk, I took the long way toward the family room. Security was tighter than usual, but I finally made it to my destination to find the family room overflowing with people. Small groups bundled together, faces grim, some forcefully