Epilogue
MICAH
The stadium lights are blinding, and the crowd is deafening.
Fourth quarter. Three minutes left. We’re down by four.
I crouch in my position, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My lungs are burning, my legs are screaming, but none of that matters right now. This is it. This is the moment that decides everything.
Coach calls a timeout, and we huddle up on the sideline.
“Alright, listen up!” Coach barks. “We’ve got one shot at this. One fucking chance. And if we don’t pull this off, the season is over.”
I glance around at my teammates. Sweat drips down their faces, jerseys stained dark with effort. They look both exhausted and ready.
Cole stands next to me, chest heaving, a cut on his forearm from a nasty tackle. His eyes are locked on Coach, that competitive fire burning in them.
Diesel is on my other side, his massive frame still imposing even after four quarters of getting beaten up. His jersey is torn at the shoulder and stained with grass and dirt, but he wears a wide grin.
Omar, our captain, has his usual calm expression, arms folded across his broad chest, nodding at every word Coach says.
And then there’s Toby. His eyes meet mine across the circle, and he gives me a quick wink.
My chest swells with something warm.
After that night at Lumen, the two of us have gotten closer than ever. We don’t put a label on it or anything, but we’re definitely more than just friends. Before every game, we fool around in the locker room, bathroom, wherever we can find a private spot, to give us both an extra edge.
With that wink, I know exactly what he’s thinking about.
“Micah!” Coach snaps, pulling me back to the present. “You with us?”
“Yes, Coach. I’m here.”
“Good. Because we need your quick feet on this play. You know what to do.”
I nod.
We break the huddle and jog back onto the field. The crowd noise swells again, a wall of sound that makes my ears ring.
I line up in my position, scanning the defense. They’re tired too. Good. That means they might make a mistake.
The ball snaps.
Everything happens fast. Toby takes the handoff, cuts left. I sprint downfield, my legs pumping, looking for an opening. A defender closes in on Toby, but Diesel comes out of nowhere and levels the guy with a block that I feel from twenty yards away.
Toby breaks free into open space.
I keep running, pushing through the exhaustion, and suddenly I’m open. Wide open. As open as my asshole was after all the guys had a turn at me that night at Lumen.
“Toby!” I shout, waving my arms.
Our eyes lock, and then the ball is spiraling through the air toward me.
Time slows down.
The ball hits my hands. I secure it against my chest. My feet are already moving, carrying me forward. A defender lunges at me, but I sidestep him. Another one coming from the left. I juke right, feeling his fingertips graze my jersey but not quite catching hold.
The end zone is right there. Ten yards. Five.
Someone hits me from behind, but I’m already falling forward, reaching, stretching every inch of my body toward that white line.
I cross it.
Touchdown.
The ref’s arms shoot up, and the crowd explodes.
My teammates swarm me, yelling and laughing and piling on top of me in a mess of bodies and helmets and pure joy.
“Hell yeah, Micah!” Cole shouts, slapping my helmet.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Diesel roars.
Omar lifts me off the ground, squeezing me in a big bear hug.
Toby is the last one to reach me. He yanks off my helmet and plants a big, sweaty kiss right on my mouth.
It lasts just a second, but it sends a surge of heat through me.
We did it. We fucking did it.
As we walk off the field, helmet in my hand, I look around at these guys. My teammates. My friends.
This season has been quite the roller coaster. We’ve won. We’ve lost. We’ve had some team building that went way deeper than what most coaches would consider appropriate. They all know me now, inside and out.
And I found my place among them.
These are the guys I will share everything with: the good, the bad, and the really, really dirty.
This is the team I belong to.
I look up at the bleachers, scanning through the crowd until I find him. Halfway up on the left side, sitting by himself like he always does. Big dude with a shaved head, tight black T-shirt stretched across his chest, that silver chain catching the stadium lights.
Hawk.
When he sees me looking, he tips his chin and gives me a thumbs-up.
I grin and wave back, then turn to walk off the field with the rest of the team.
Tonight, we’re gonna celebrate. And I already know exactly where we’re heading.
There’s only one place where we can let loose after a victory like this.
The End