Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“After some wine? Yes, but I thought she wouldn’t do this in the dress.”
“One thing I’ve learned about these girls is that they will hype each other up until they both do something dumb.
If Ivy suggested a few wines and then a bungee jump off a bridge, Katie would ask how many bottles,” I say as I watch my girlfriend sing into the microphone Ivy holds up for her.
An hour ago, the DJ gave them a microphone to make some announcements.
They announced the party was starting, both lifting a bottle of wine each over their heads and laughing hysterically.
Since then, the DJ has played pop song after pop song that both Ivy and Katie have screamed the lyrics for.
We started in the middle of the dance floor with them, Scott and I. Scott, who has never been much of a dancer, tried his best to keep up, but he bowed out by song number five, taking up residence on the edge of the dance floor. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Ivy since.
I lasted a little longer, but after a full straight minute of Katie grinding her ass against me during some Justin Timberlake song, I needed a break.
A server places two bottles of beer down on the table Scott and I lean against, and I give him a nod. It’s been a pretty decent night. Scott looks completely and utterly in awe of his new wife, and I couldn’t be happier for the both of them. I tell him as much, bumping my shoulder gently with his.
“Thank you.” He takes a swig of the beer, never taking an eye off Ivy. The girls are now screaming the lyrics to ‘Baby’ by Justin Bieber into the mic.
“I’m glad you guys found each other. You’re meant to be. She’s good for you. Has been since you met her,” I say, tipping my beer in Ivy’s direction. “Plus, she kept you in Boston, and we won the ring we’ve been chasing since freshman year training camp.”
“You were a scrawny shit, running your mouth about how the school had never seen a QB quite like you.”
“And they still haven’t.” I smirk. “You never let me show them.”
“You are a talented tight end. Fucking one with the ball, you know that.” Scott turns a little toward me, taking his eyes off Ivy for the first time in hours.
“Was,” I say quietly. “I was a talented tight end. Now, I’m just another retired NFL player with serious brain damage and a bogus degree in business.”
“It’s not bogus. You graduated.”
“I have no interest in using it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to get a second opinion?
Lots of players have come back after concussions.
” His words wash over me like cold water.
Suddenly, I’m wide awake, and the hair on the back of my neck is standing up.
For a second, his words pump adrenaline through my veins, and I feel the anticipation crawl under my skin, giving me the slightest of buzzes.
“Sure, but none from a severe traumatic brain injury.” Scott flinches at my words, and the adrenaline, the anticipation, that was just humming through my body ceases.
“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess I just can’t believe it’s over.”
“We got our ring. We did what you came here to do, with me.”
“I know, but—” Scott takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering back to his new wife and avoiding my gaze. “You’re so calm. I would be freaking out.”
“I—Oh, well, I guess I am calm.” I shrug, swigging at the beer again. The amber liquid slides down my throat, and I expect to feel something at Scott’s words. I expect disappointment, panic, maybe even anger.
But I don’t.
He’s right. I’m calm.
“The injury, the way I had to go out, it was shit. I’m disappointed the choice was made for me, but—” I lift a hand to his shoulder and squeeze. “I’m not disappointed that it was made. It was my time. That’s that.”
I remember the beginning of the season, when I spent all my free evenings sitting in a booth in Katie’s bar, staring at her from across the room while she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.
I remember the conversation with Hollie after the video got leaked.
She was worried I wasn’t going to get re-signed, but I was worried Katie would be even more pissed that I started a fight in front of her bar.
I think, deep down, I knew my time on the field as a player was coming to an end. I just didn’t know when.
“Have you thought about what you might want to do now?” Scott asks, speaking over the music.
I shake my head and shrug. “Coach? I don’t know. College ball could be fun. High school might be good too, if any of the local colleges or high schools are hiring.”
“Would you coach pro ball? You’d make one hell of an offensive coordinator. You know your shit.”
I think about his words as my eyes travel over the small crowd that’s still left. It’s nearing the end of the night. Most of the guests filtered out the moment the girls took to that microphone. Some of our teammates and Scott’s parents remain, looking over the dance floor with amusement.
Katie’s blonde hair is a mess of curls. She’s holding her dress up in one hand and her shoes have been tossed to the side. She’s laughing, her face flushed and her eyes bright. She’s happy.
I want to see her happy every day, for the rest of our lives.
“I think I’ll stick close to home for a while.” I smile as I watch her, and when her eyes lock on mine and I watch her bite down on her bottom lip, the air gets knocked from my lungs. “Maybe I’ll learn how to pour beers and spend all day staring at my girl.”
Beside me, out of the corner of my eye, I see Scott grin and shake his head. “You’re fucking worse than me.”
I’m about to dispute his comment when I hear a squeal over the music and then cheering from the teammates that are left on the dance floor. They’ve been egging on the girls all night.
I look up, my eyes finding Katie immediately. She’s standing on the fucking bartop, dress hitched up, microphone in her hand. She laughs, catching herself just before belting out the chorus of the song playing at the top of her lungs.
I watch, completely entranced as she throws her head back and sings. Her voice isn’t in key, she’s not trying very hard, and she keeps stopping to laugh. But she’s having fun.
That is, until I see her slip a little, looking like she’s more unsteady on her feet than I realized. I move at the same time as Scott, because Ivy’s decided she wants to join in on the bartop fun.
“That’s it. Calling it,” he grumbles as we head toward the bar.
“Yup, one of them is going to break a bone.” I swipe Katie’s shoes from the ground as we walk past them. When I reach her, I look up, my hand shooting out to grab her ankle in an effort to help keep her upright. “Let’s go, Rockstar. Time for bed.”
“No,” she whines, crouching down on the bartop so she’s almost face-to-face with me. “Don’t be a party pooper, Reed. I’m having fun.”
Next to me, Scott is gently coaxing Ivy from the bar. She gets down willingly.
“You’re going to break a bone if you’re not careful. Then who’s going to be the breadwinner of the house?” I point to myself and wink. “Unemployed, remember?”
“NFL money, remember?” She pushes a playful hand against my chest. I grab it, tugging her toward me. She comes willingly, letting me pull her off the bar and into my arms.