I launch the ball down the field, and Damon catches it in stride and runs into the end zone for the score.
And the crowd goes nuts.
Coach slaps me on the back and says, “Son, I gotta tell you, I was expecting a fun little pass and score here. What I wasn’t expecting was for you to throw the ball from the sixteen to somewhere near the opposing team’s ten-yard line. Well over seventy yards in the air. We’re going to have to do some digging, but that’s got to be some kind of record.”
After the game, the parking lot, which is usually practically empty by now, seems to be in full-on celebration mode. The team comes out of the locker room to cheers, and everyone is talking about the play, the throw, and the catch. It’s exciting, but there’s only one person I want to see right now.
And she’s sitting in my truck.
Of course she would know the code to unlock the doors. It’s her birthdate.
The driver’s door is open, her long legs are dangling off the side of the seat, and she’s got a big smile on her face.
After getting a bunch of high fives, signing a few autographs for kids, and hugging my family, I finally make my way there. She jumps out of the truck and straight into my arms and kisses me.
“Overachiever,” she says with a grin.
“So much for mental preparation. You might have to give me a goal for all my games.”
“The family wants to go out for pizza to celebrate. You okay with that?” she asks.
“Are you okay with that?”
“I think it will be fun. And after a game like that, you guys deserve it.”
“As long as there will be some tent time after the celebration.”
She runs her fingers through my hair and says, “I think that is a given.”
We end up at a local sports bar. Their kitchen typically closes at ten, but on Friday nights after a home game, they make an exception, taking orders until everyone is served.
“Hell of a game, boys,” Pace’s dad says. A thought that is echoed by our families. “I have a feeling that play of yours is going to get some national recognition. The video the school posted online already has a ton of hits and was liked by two of the big sports networks.”
Damon and Pace are pumped about this.
The fun thing about this sports bar and why Damon comes here after every game and always wants me to is because the place is full of people who were just at the game. He works the crowd, knowing and talking to everyone from old guys to little kids. My mom says that his dad was the same way, and it’s something I’ve struggled with. I want to be accessible to fans, especially as my career progresses, but while Damon gets hyped up, talking to so many people and feeding off their energy, I find too much of it drains me.
When Emersyn starts to get cranky around midnight, I feel her. I’m tired and ready to go home, too. Jennifer boxes up the leftovers, so Damon, who probably didn’t eat a bite, can have some later, and then we all head out.
Dani rides home with me, and I can’t help but glance over at her. She’s got on a short, almost-cheerleading-style skirt with one of our new One Eleven jerseys tucked into it. On her feet are a pair of black cowboy boots with a brightly colored embroidered design that matches our team colors.
“I have a love-hate relationship with my truck,” I tell her.
“Why?”
I look at her expectantly.
“Oh. Yeah,” she says. “We christened it the first day you got it. Out by the lake.”
“That’s where the love part comes in.”
“And the hate?” she asks softly.
“Getting in it and remembering that moment when we were no longer friends.”
“Do you remember the music that was playing that night?”
“Uh, something country?” I reply.
“Yep. Did you know that I can’t listen to it anymore?” she says as we pull into my driveway.
“Like, any country songs?” I ask incredulously.
“That’s correct. They all make me sad.”
“You took out a whole genre of music because of me?”
To this, I am shocked. She seemed to get over it all way faster than I did.
She nods her head. “You weren’t the only one who was hurting, Chase.”
I’ve replayed that day over in my head so many times, trying to recall everything that was said, wondering if I should have done something differently, but all I can remember is the crushing hurt.
She undoes her seat belt and leans toward me. “Regardless of what happened between us, I’ve always loved you, Chase.” She gives me a kiss and gets out of the car, saying, “I’ll sneak over later.”
Teach you a cheer.
Devaney
We get home the same time as everyone else, so I walk in through the garage door with Dad, Jennifer, and Damon. Angel barks at us and rushes up, her tail wagging furiously, happy to see us.
She’s followed by Weston and Easton, who both yell, “Mama!”
“What are they doing up?” Jennifer says to the babysitter, who just shrugs.
“They both went down at eight thirty, as usual, but Weston woke up an hour ago. I tried keeping her quiet, but then Easton woke up, too.”
Easton is carrying her blanket and doesn’t look thrilled to be awake. Jennifer picks her up and snuggles her into her chest.
Weston pouts. “I no go to football game.”
She goes zooming out into the family room and runs back with a set of pom-poms. She usually gets to go to Damon’s game. But since they knew they’d probably be going out afterward tonight, they got a babysitter, and Weston is clearly not happy about it.
Jennifer, who always has a smile on her face, suddenly looks exhausted.
“Hey, Westie,” I say. “Why don’t you come in my room? I’ll teach you a cheer, read you a story, and put you to bed. How does that sound?”
She waves her little pom-poms and goes, “Yay!!!”
“Thank you,” my dad says to me. He turns to Jennifer. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed yourself, maybe run a warm bath, and I’ll tuck Easton in?”
“That sounds wonderful,” she says, letting the babysitter out the front door.
“And you, little miss,” Damon says, grabbing Weston and picking her up, “look like you need a piggyback ride upstairs.”
“Piggy! Piggy!” she yells and shakes her pom-poms in Damon’s face as he makes his way upstairs.
I follow them, laughing, and thinking that it’s good to be home.
Can’t risk that.
Chase
I tell my family good night and go up to my room. I change clothes, lie on my bed, and then close my eyes.
I hear my phone buzzing from inside my duffel bag. I let out a heavy sigh. I haven’t checked my phone since before the game and wasn’t planning to until tomorrow morning, but I get up and grab it in case it’s Dani.
What I find are a lot of texts and direct message notifications, some of them from the coaches hoping to recruit me and quite a few from journalists about the game and specifically the play tonight. But the one that just came through is from Lacey.