Chapter 27
BOWLS AND BARBEQUE AND BABIES. OH MY
GRYFF
New Year's Day in Pasadena, and it looked like the entire DSU student body and thirty years of alumni had showed up for the Flower Bowl.
Purple and gold bedazzled everything, turning our side of the stadium into something straight out of our old stomping grounds.
The mountains in the distance were snow-capped despite the California sun, and the whole scene felt like some kind of fever dream where Colorado and California had merged into one perfect football moment.
“Is this what tailgating is?” I asked Artie, watching Dad set up a full grill operation in the parking lot. “Because this seems excessive.”
She laughed, handing me a beer at nine in the morning like that was totally normal. “Welcome to the other side of game day, Gryff. The side where you get to actually enjoy the pregame instead of sitting in meetings watching film.”
“I watched film before games by choice,” I protested.
“Of course you did.” She was wearing one of my old Dragons hoodies, and seeing her in my college colors still did things to my chest I couldn't quite name.
“But now you get to experience the fine art of grilling breakfast burritos off the back of a pickup truck while discussing why Bay State doesn't stand a chance.”
“Bay State has Fox Daws,” Flynn said, appearing with Tempest. “That guy's an actual movie star who happens to play football. We met him at the combine doing some research for a movie.”
“He was cool,” I admitted, remembering the ridiculously photogenic tight end who'd somehow balanced Hollywood and college ball. “Weird that Tyson took you to see his movie that one time.”
Artie's face did something complicated at the mention of Tyson. “That was a lifetime ago.”
“Good lifetime or bad lifetime?” Tempest asked, stealing bacon from the grill.
“The kind of lifetime that led to this one,” Artie said, grabbing my hand. “So ultimately good, even if the journey was circuitous.”
“Circuitous,” Flynn repeated. “Someone's been reading Tempest's romance novels.”
“Someone's about to get tackled into that cooler,” Tempest threatened.
“Think Isak will get any playing time?” Flynn asked, tossing the football to Declan.
“Doubt it,” Declan said, catching it easily. “Seth Glass has been solid all season.”
“Yeah, but he's been dealing with bruised ribs since the conference championship,” Chris added, jumping into the impromptu game. “Saw him getting extra treatment all week in the sports blogs.”
“Isak's ready if he gets the chance,” I said, catching Flynn's pass. “Kid's been preparing for this his whole life.”
“Being ready in the backyard with us and being ready for the Flower Bowl are different things,” Hayes pointed out.
“No, they're not.” I threw a perfect spiral to Chris. “Football is football. The field's the same size, the ball weighs the same.”
Dad's phone rang, and he stepped away from the grill to answer. “Everett? Why aren't you—Slow down, son.”
We all stopped throwing to listen.
“Braxton-Hicks,” Dad said calmly into the phone. “It's practice contractions. Penelope's fine... Yes, I'm sure... No, you don't need to go to the hospital... Everett, breathe.”
“Is Pen okay?” Chris called out.
Dad held up a finger, still talking. “Son, I've been through this eight times. She's thirty-two weeks, some Braxton-Hicks is normal... Have her drink water and lie on her left side... Yes, that's why you're hosting a watch party instead of flying here.”
He paused, listening, then chuckled. “Everett, when it's real labor, you'll know. Trust me... Now go take care of your wife and stop panicking. We'll FaceTime you when Isak gets in the game... IF he gets in the game... Love you too.”
He hung up and shook his head. “That boy's going to have a heart attack before that baby even arrives.”
“Pen's having contractions?” Jules asked, concerned.
“Practice ones. But Everett's acting like she's about to deliver on the living room floor during halftime.”
“Remember when Mom was pregnant with Jules?” Declan grinned. “Dad made us do emergency drills to the hospital.”
“That was educational,” Dad protested, returning to the grill.
“You timed us with a stopwatch,” Hayes added.
“Preparation is important,” Dad insisted. “And Everett's going to need all the preparation he can get. That boy's already wound tighter than a spring.”
Flynn's phone buzzed with a text. “Everett says Pen is fine and eating nachos while yelling at the TV because the pregame announcers are disrespecting Isak's potential.”
“That's our Penelope,” Kelsey laughed. “Seven and a half months pregnant and still ready to fight anyone who underestimates a Kingman.”
The parking lot had turned into a full Kingman family reunion minus one.
Chris had claimed an entire section with multiple trucks and a tent that probably violated several parking regulations.
Declan and Kelsey were taking selfies with fans who recognized her, though most were more excited about meeting a Big Bowl champion.
Hayes and Willa were attempting to set up speakers while FaceTiming with Everett and Penelope back in Thornminster.
“This is insane,” Artie said, appearing at my elbow with a plate of food. “Your family tailgates like they're hosting a wedding.”
“First time for everything,” I admitted. “I usually missed all this, being in the locker room by now.”
“Your dad's been explaining the finer points of charcoal versus propane for twenty minutes.” She bit into a breakfast burrito. “I think he's adopted me.”
“The whole family has adopted you. Nana made you a lucky pillow.” I pointed to where Nana Evie was pulling out what looked like half a craft store from her bag.
“I'm making a blanket for the game,” Nana called out. “It gets cold in those stadiums.”
“It's seventy degrees,” Jules pointed out.
“California cold is still cold,” Nana insisted, wrapping herself in approximately seventeen scarves despite the sunshine.
As the morning went on, more people showed up. Flynn's defensive line teammates from senior year, some of my O-line, even Xander Rosemount who'd flown in.
“Baby Kingman's first bowl game,” Xander said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You ready to watch him become a legend?”
“He's not even starting,” I reminded everyone for the hundredth time.
“Yet,” the entire group said in unison.
“You all jinx things professionally or just as a hobby?” I asked.
“It's not jinxing if it's destiny,” Chris said sagely, which made absolutely no sense but sounded profound enough that everyone nodded.
The stadium was packed, that electric energy of college football that the League, for all its polish and professionalism, could never quite replicate. The Flower Bowl was legendary and being here felt like being part of history.
“I can't believe we're actually here,” Artie said as we found our seats. “Remember watching bowl games junior year of high school?”
“You asked why they were called bowls when the stadium wasn't bowl-shaped.”
“It's a valid question that you never adequately answered.”
“I explained it perfectly.”
“You said 'because football' and then got distracted by a touchdown.”
“That's a perfect explanation.”
She laughed, leaning into me as the teams took the field. Denver State in purple and gold, Bay State in black and teal. Their dire wolf logo looked appropriately intimidating on the helmets.
“There's Fox Daws,” Flynn pointed out as Bay State's offense warmed up. “Number seventy-eight.”
Even from the stands, you could see why the guy was a movie star. He moved like an athlete but looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover.
“Still can't believe he balances Hollywood and football,” Tempest said. “His last movie made, like, two hundred million dollars.”
“The one where he drove a car off a cliff and somehow didn't die?” Jules asked, while possibly drooling.
“That's the one.”
“Art,” Declan said solemnly. “Pure art.”
The game started with Bay State receiving, and their offense immediately went to work. Their quarterback had a cannon for an arm, and Fox Daws was creating matchup nightmares for our defense. But Seth Glass and our offense were keeping pace, trading scores through the first quarter.
Then it happened.
Second quarter, Bay State was bringing pressure on every play. Seth was getting hit, getting up slower each time. You could see him favoring his left side, trying to protect those ribs.
“He's hurting,” Chris said quietly.
“He needs to slide,” Dad agreed. “Avoid the hits.”
But Seth was a warrior, trying to tough it out. On third and long, Bay State's defensive end came through unblocked. Seth tried to step up but couldn't quite avoid the hit. He went down hard, and this time, he didn't get up.
The stadium went silent.
“Oh no,” Artie breathed, her hand finding mine.
The medical staff ran out. Seth tried to sit up once, then immediately lay back down, his hand going to his ribs.
“That's not good,” Flynn said unnecessarily.
They helped Seth off the field to applause, and suddenly there was Isak, strapping on his helmet, jogging onto the field like this was just another practice.
“Holy shit,” Declan said. “Baby brother's going in.”
“In the Flower Bowl,” Hayes added. “Against Fox Daws and Bay State.”
“His first real action is in a fucking bowl game,” Chris breathed.
My phone started buzzing with texts from Everett to the family group chat.
EVERETT
IS THAT ISAK?? PEN JUST THREW A PILLOW AT THE TV IN EXCITEMENT
She says to tell him to 'light those dire wolves up'
Also she's crying but she says it's pregnancy hormones not nerves
I could see Isak in the huddle, and even from here, his body language was different than Seth's had been. Where Seth had looked tense, protective, Isak looked... loose. Ready.
First play Isak faked a handoff, rolled right, and threw a perfect spiral to the tight end for fifteen yards.
The stadium exploded.
“THAT'S MY BOY,” Dad shouted, on his feet.
Second play was a quick slant to the slot receiver, another first down.