39. Chapter 39
Saint
When I discovered this sport all those years ago, my first dream was one day making it to this game. Still lanky, back then, but fast. I put my everything into making this my career.
I take a step. Another, and another, until I'm sprinting out of the tunnel and onto the field. Smoke screens and cold spark machines remind me how important this all is. The roar of the fans engulfs me. I let it all wash over me, but there's a corner inside they can't reach.
I'm split, because she's not here. Her absence is a torn muscle right in the middle of my chest.
My grin is in place as I do a couple of salsa moves, alone on the turf and wearing my uniform.
I let my need for her bring out my dimples.
There's so much joy inside when I think of her.
Pain, too, but I welcome everything. Anything to do with Ames is to be carried with me as I play one of the most important games in my career.
No matter what happens next, I don't think that's ever going to change.
Two decades. Practically two thirds of my life. They have built to this.
With my parents, my sisters, and my friend watching. With my teammates' guests, and millions of people glued to everything we do here on the field. There's so much adrenaline in my veins, everything happens in slow motion.
I know what play we're going to try next. Logan doesn't look at me as he sets up. If he did, it might give something away.
It doesn't matter. I know how to read his mind.
I take my position. I wait for the signs. Logan starts the drive, and I stop thinking. I am all heart, all motion. No more than fragmented pieces of awareness.
Running. The smell of clean sweat and torn grass. I evade two guys. My position— locked. I find the ball up in the air. Quick— check for defensive players. Outmaneuver them.
Leather at my fingertips. The comforting shape of the ball against my ribs.
Fuck. Yes. Caught it.
I explode into a sprint. I'm forced to run in a diagonal to avoid the men wearing the wrong colors. It lengthens the distance, but that's okay. I'll endure. I have the stamina.
The rush of hormones in my veins. The kick of fire in my muscles. The way my lungs expand and contract in a measured, steady rhythm. My body is a finely-tuned machine bringing me closer and closer to the end zone.
In just a few seconds, I'll cross the goal line. The crowd's clamor booms and rumbles. I smile. No one can stop me now. The cool air on my face welcomes me as I dive into another touchdown.
I roll on the grass like a well-trained acrobat, ending on my feet.
The ball still in my hand, I lift both arms up to the sky and scream at the top of my lungs.
My teammates reach me and jostle me hard enough I could lose my balance.
I don't. Instead, I spike the ball and laugh.
Dom joins me, and we twist and turn in place with a brand new dance move .
We're in the biggest game of our careers. I just scored the Strike's third touchdown.
It may be the high of our near win, but certainty fills me like never before.
Asking Ames to take my hand was right. The promises I made to her were the ones I had to make.
Opening my heart and admitting I don't know what will come our way, but I want to find out with her by my side…
that's what makes me relationship material.
For her. It makes me right for her, if she'll have me.
I can only hope she sees it the same way.