We hit the ground inches from the QB and the ball sailed overhead. I popped up, tracking the perfect spiraling arc streaking down the field.
My breath froze in my lungs, but it had nothing to do with the temperatures.
Everything stopped, and the whole stadium was on their feet in near silence.
A finger tip of the ball from one of our guys and he knocked it out of the air.
My hand slammed into my chest, gripping my jersey.
The QB grabbed onto the back of my shoulder pads.
And the recovery.
The running back palmed the ball in his gloved hands and slammed it against his chest before falling into the end zone.
Standing, dazed, I watched the stadium erupt, and my teammates rushed toward us.
Sideline benches cleared, and everyone poured out onto the field. The franchise that hadn’t made it to the playoffs in over a decade had just clinched their second national championship—in a row.
Bodies piled on top of me. The team lifted me, hugging me, screaming their excitement to the heavens right beside me.
Sweaty, tired and humming with the exhilaration of the win, I joined in with my team’s celebration.
Hats were shoved onto our heads and cameras invaded the festivities. Interviewers shoved mics into our faces.
Through the madness, the trophy with a silver football perched on top was hefted overhead by our quarterback. He grabbed onto me and shoved it into my hands.
“I wouldn’t have thought it would be so close with you with us for the whole season!” He grinned and shook me. “One more?”
I stared out over the sea of people, soaking in the energy, living in the moment of my second championship win after putting all my blood, sweat and tears into this team.
Through the fray of people and confetti raining down, the crowd parted.
Bay walked toward me, still in her halftime performance outfit complete with a jacket made from a Wisconsin jersey that was nowhere near warm enough. But she’d wanted to go out with a bang for her farewell performance.
“Enough.” The word rang in my head. I handed the trophy back to the QB. “Next season you guys are on your own.”
His face fell, but I didn’t stay for the barrage of questions, instead I slipped my hands around the waist of my wife and spun her around, lifting her feet off the ground.
She laughed and hugged me back, even though I was sweaty and disgusting. “Congratulations, Mr. Keyton.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around her and whispered into her ear. “Congratulations, Mrs. Keyton.” A bombardment of bliss hit me on saying those words.
A hand landed on my shoulder and pulled me from Bay.
“We’re here with Darren Keyton and his girlfriend and halftime performer, Bay. You two both had a stellar night.”
I held Bay close to me, my heart pounding like I’d just finished the winning play. “We certainly did, and I couldn’t have done it without her at my side.”
“Any word yet on when you two will be tying the knot?”
Our rings sat on the dresser in our rented house not too far from the stadium. The private ceremony we’d held with fewer than twenty attendees on a private island away from prying eyes still wasn’t public knowledge. Every night when we got home, I slipped the ring onto her finger and got to say ‘I do’ all over again.
I leaned into the mic. “We’re still trying to decide on the perfect time.”
The interviews were non-stop with microphones shoved in both our faces, but I couldn’t hide my smile. I don’t think I’d stopped smiling since she’d come running down the stairs of the private jet and into my arms.
The next few hours dissolved into a celebration procession. It was a blur of champagne showers, Gatorade baths, ten-second sound clip interviews, press conferences, and some time with the physio team getting patched up.
Bay fielded her own interviews throughout the night. Reporters grilled her on her next album, next tour, next product line. She kept the evasiveness up and directed them to two up-and-coming artists she was working with.
After the confetti cannons, we moved into the locker room. The floor was soggy with booze and sweat. I had stood in rooms like this for what felt like years of my life combined, and this might be one of the last times I was here.
Most of the players had cleared out, already celebrating the big win. I had enough rings to cover one and a half hands. The novelty of the party had long been eclipsed by my love of the game, but even that had waned.
Hands slipped around my waist.
Raising my arms, I turned in Bay’s hold and dropped my arms around her. She was already in her coat.
Holden stood by the end of the lockers.
“Hey, you made it.” I extended my hand.
He unfolded his arms. “Like I’d miss her possibly last performance.”
We shook hands. “Thanks for coming back. She was a nervous wreck thinking about doing it without you.”
“Like I’d let her.”
Bay rolled her eyes. “Thanks for coming, Holden.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek.
“Better watch out. That hubby of yours might get jealous,” he whispered low enough for only us to hear.
She looked over her shoulder. “No, he knows he’s got my heart.”
“Alright, enough of the suffocating love exchange. I’ve got a plane to catch. I’ll see you both after this next tour is done.” And he was gone.
“Does it feel weird not seeing him every day?”
“I miss him. Thankfully, he’s got that tablet surgically attached to his hand, so I know he’s always there when I need him.”
“He’s a good friend.”
“One of the best.”
I buttoned the top two buttons of her coat and pulled her hat out of her pocket, pulling it on and down over her eyes.
Her lips pursed. She shoved it up and slipped her hands into my pockets, resting her chin against my chest.
“Great game.”
“Great performance.”
She scrunched up her nose. “It was all lights and fireworks. Smoke and mirrors.”
“And you.”
“Let’s go home.”
Home could’ve been in the back of a car. A studio apartment. An airport terminal. As long as I was with her, I was home. Snow began to fall on the drive. I could appreciate it even more since I wouldn’t have to play in it ever again.
The early dawn sun was close to the horizon by the time we got to our rented house. We’d retrofitted it with a studio and anything else we’d need to make it through the blistering Wisconsin winter.
We kicked off our winter gear by the door still covered in Christmas decorations and went straight up to our bedroom in the three-bed cottage-style house.
Sitting beside the bed was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. A tray sat on the dresser with food containers waiting for us.
I turned to Bay.
She tapped her fingers against her lips. “Okay, I might’ve called in a favor with Holden to make this happen.”
“In that case, we can’t spoil all his hard work.” I grabbed the rings from the dresser and crawled into bed beside Bay.
She crossed her legs in the center of the bed with two glasses of sparkling wine ready on the tray.
“This never gets old.” I held her hand in mine and stared into her eyes with the overlapping rings poised at the tip of her finger. We didn’t do this every night, but only on those big nights, ones where we were reminded of how extraordinary our love was and how lucky we were to be together. “All my life, I’ve waited to find the one person who believed in everything I was enough that I could believe it, too. The day I found you was the day I finally stopping living and came alive.” I slid the rings onto her fingers and turned her hand over, kissing her palm.