27. Chapter 24
M y first college game and though the stands are full, I can’t help my thoughts from leaning toward Henry. He should be here, with my number on his back, screaming so loud for me that his voice would be hoarse tomorrow.
But he’s not here, and she is.
My fiancé, the perfect little mob princess.
I hate to admit it, but Charlie’s cool. Laid back and seems to be proficient in whatever she puts her mind to. Best of all, she doesn’t actually want to marry me.
Getting dressed today made me think of Mom, and how she’ll never see me in this jersey, how she’ll never watch me play under the bright white stadium lights of a college football field.
Then I pulled out the picture of us I keep hidden in my wallet and placed it in my locker. Her face forever locked in a wide smile with her arm wrapped around my back. It was my first game, the first real high school game I’d played in, and we both fell in love with the sport.
The team and I are stretching on the field, tossing a few balls around, and warming up in the lower temperatures. Glimpses of people filling in the stadium wearing gold, green, and gray make my heart pound behind my ribs. Coach calls us to huddle around, we jog over and take a knee, listening to what he has to say.
Jax passes me without a word, he’s still pissed at me from yesterday. I’ve gotten used to people being disappointed in me, so I don’t bother wasting my breath. Talon and I haven’t spoken since his dad pulled him from the room last weekend. What’s one more person?
Coach benched me, which I figured would be the case. I wasn’t much good at practice, and with the fight I had with Jax yesterday, I just thought the other guys wouldn’t want me on the field.
“Rossi!” Coach hollers.
Walking over from where I was standing on the sidelines so I could watch the kick-off, I stand beside him. “Pay attention to Gilmore,” he grunts, not bothering to look at me.
Our cornerback catches the ball and takes off. Willard, I think is his last name. He’s fast, but the opposing team is large. Their defense is eating up the distance toward him while our team does their best to block.
Coach hollers directions and waves his arms, but I’m caught in the play. Watching them, analyzing how they work together. Jax tackles one of the guys from the other team, clearing the way for Willard to gain a few more yards before he’s brought down by defense.
Just like that, we have a first down. The game continues, both sides unrelenting. By the fourth quarter, we’re down by seven, and Gilmore–the guy who’s playing wide receiver in my absence–looks even more terrified than he did at the start of the game. Coach and I make eye contact and he hangs his head.
That sure can boost a guy's spirit.
He looks back up, running a hand down his face he says, “Think you can manage to get us a touchdown?” Coach asks after a yellow flag flies in the air. I can’t hear the call, but I’d bet it’s holding. The other team has been rough all night. I’m surprised no one’s thrown down yet, especially Jax.
His words hit me like a freight train, and his eyes bore into mine, looking at me expectantly.
“Yes,” I answer, licking my lips and putting my helmet on. He tells me who to replace, but I already know. Gilmore looks worse for wear as I pass him on the field.
In the huddle, Patterson looks at me and frowns.
“I know I’m not everyone’s favorite person right now, but let’s focus on the game.” I offer with a grumble.
“Just catch the ball, Rossi,” Jax mutters, and our eyes meet. There’s something hard in his stare, and it makes me think maybe I should give him a chance to sort through all this shit.
Rebuild or whatnot. He’s been like a dose of nostalgia, tethering me to my old life. I didn’t realize how much I missed that part of me.
I nod and listen to Patterson call the play then take my spot on the sixty yard line alongside my team. I should know these guys better than I do now. We’re a team sharing one goal, and I only know their names.
I need to change that.
My feet dig into the earth, cleats making dents in the field. Patterson calls the play, and I take off around the offensive line. I’m halfway to the end zone when I glance back, Patterson’s already mid-throw.
The ball flies from his hand, and I gauge the distance I need to clear to make it to where it’s going to fall. It’s not far, and I push my body harder to get there. On the balls decent, I snatch it from the air and cradle it to my chest.
Fuck. Yes.
Picking up speed, I head for the end zone. My chest pumps harder as I see one of the opposing team members in my peripheral vision coming at me. He’s a big fucker, but I think I can make it.
His shoulder collides with my side, his arms wrap around my middle, and suddenly, the sky is all I can see. He jumps up and hollers, but the clock still has a minute, and I know I couldn't have gone down too far from the goal. Sitting up, I hear the crowd screaming, their roar deafening, and exactly the adrenaline rush I need to pick myself up and toss the football to the referee.
Jax and the rest of the team rushes me. Patterson is the first to speak, calling out a play and eying me again.
“You think you can get past them again?” His smile is infectious, and the rest of the team looks hopeful.
“I know so,” I offer, “Damarcus, block for me?”
“Fuck yeah!” He hollers, earning a round of hoots from the boys.
We line up again, this time on the five-yard line. If we can score and go for the two-point conversion, we’ll win, and God, I want that more than I’ve wanted anything in a really long time.
Again, Patterson calls the play, and immediately two of the offensive linemen dart my way, but Demarcus and Andre take care of them. Faking right, I dodge into the end zone and throw my hands up, ready to catch the ball from Patterson.
He pitches the ball, and as if it has a magnet that matches my hands, it’s between them before I can blink. The crowd goes wild. Whistles, screams, everything feels like it comes alive after the whistle blows.
Jax is there first, jumping up and down, and fuck, it feels just like in high school.
“I knew you were in there,” he screams while the others surround me.
“We still need the conversion,” I tell him.
He smiles and says, “Patterson has a plan for that.”
“Just stay right this time,” he says with a clap on my shoulder, “and be ready to take a hit.”
I figure the other team will have their eyes on me the second we line up for the conversion. Their whole line shifts, leaving Jax on the other end unguarded. As long as I can keep the heat on me, Jax will be free to catch the winning pass.
The clock runs down as Patterson hollers out the play. Helmets crack, shoulder pads clack and sure enough, all of their eyes are on me. Patterson chucks the ball to Jax who’s waiting in the back left corner.
Arms wrap around my middle, and I’m thrown backward before I can see if Jax caught it or not, but judging by the crowd’s reaction, I’m going to assume he did. He trots over and offers his hand, pulling me up. The team storms the field and jumps up and down around us.
Once the revelry calms a bit we head back to the locker room where family and friends are waiting. My heart sinks when I don’t find Henry. I knew he wouldn’t be here–why would he after the shit I said–but damn, feeling so good after so long made me hope he was still just as stubborn as always, and showed up to support me.
“It was good to see you on a field again,” Dad says. “Your mom would be proud.”
His eyes are glassy, and I know mine match. I want to tell him I know, but my throat swells and I nod my head instead. Fern wraps me up in a quick hug while Creed, Nile, and Luca pat my back with father-like slaps of approval.
Luca doesn’t look happy, but he’s here at least.
Charlie walks up, along with Opal and Hannah. Each of them decked out in apparel to show off their school spirit. Threading her arm through mine, she smiles up at me and says, “Good game, Pretty Boy.”
The contact sets me back, and for a moment, I almost shake her off. Until her eyes flash and her grip tightens.
Believable .
“Romero,” Creed grumbles, stepping just slightly in front of Fern. A deep laugh sounds behind me and it hits me that Creed wasn’t speaking to Charlie.
She tugs on my hand where she’s subtly interlocked our fingers and whispers, “Play along.”