Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-four
Ben
We won.
Again. And again.
Christ, we were on fire. Couldn’t be stopped. This was the best season the Mountain Lions had ever had, and even though my body was feeling it—oh, was I feeling it—I didn’t want to stop.
We were in postseason. The semis were in our pocket, and we were so close to taking the conference finals, I could taste it. Knowing my family was here—my brothers and two girls—kept me wired. Ignoring the burn in my muscles and bruising reaching all the way down to my bones.
I looked up, wiping the sweat pouring down my forehead. The clock bled into the red, 79:42.
The noise in the stadium was unreal—thick, electric, crawling over my skin. In my mind, though, I heard their voices through it. I didn’t have to see them to feel them. Like hands on my back, pushing me through the pain.
We were down by two, 22–20.
My legs were shot. My lungs were on fire. Every breath sliced at my ribs. Sweat stung my eyes. Tape hung loose off my wrists. My shirt was half torn. I tasted blood and metal and mud.
Then the whistle screamed, signaling a penalty advantage in our direction.
I lifted my head, scanning the line. The defense had spread wide, bracing for a kick. The smart, safe strategy. The one every coach on the planet would’ve called. Everyone expected it.
Except Murphy.
He glanced at me, just once, a flash of teeth through his mouth guard.
You ready, Eight?
I nodded, even though everything in me was close to breaking.
“Ben!” the nine yelled.
The pass came at me fast and sharp, thudding into my chest. For half a heartbeat, it seemed like the crowd sucked in a collective breath. Not because I had the ball—because they realized we weren’t playing it safe.
A big forward charged straight at me. I dropped my shoulder and stepped hard off my right. Pain knifed up my leg, but I didn’t care. I slammed through him. Another body collided into me, hands hooking into my jersey, cleats raking down my calf.
I stayed up. I knew they were watching, and I was bringing this win home for them.
Ten meters. Then five. The line was close enough to taste.
The fullback dove for my legs, arms wrapping around my thighs, trying to drag me back into the hell of the last eighty minutes.
I pushed with everything I had left. Every second of sacrifice. Every lonely road game. Every doubt. All of it channeled into one final drive.
When I was close enough, I lunged. My hand slapped down over the white line with a thud. For one impossible second, it was dead quiet. Then the world detonated.
Whistle. Arms up. Officials pointing down.
Try.
I lay on the turf, gulping for air that barely existed, heart hammering so hard, it might burst straight through my chest. The stadium lost its mind. Murphy crashed down beside me, laughing, swearing, slapping my helmet.
“You mad bastard, Wells! You beautiful, stubborn bastard!”
Our teammates hauled us both up, swarming around us. They were all yelling my name, and I raised my heavy, shaking arms in victory.
I finally looked up at the stands, finding them instantly.
Mazzy had her hands cupped around her mouth, cheering for me.
Katty was on Nate’s shoulders, her tiny face red and wild as she clapped.
My brothers were hugging each other, hugging Mazzy, screaming for me and my team.
Bea was waving her arms overhead, and even Sal was there, clapping for us in his own subdued manner.
It was everything.
We eventually trudged off the field, Murphy’s arm over my shoulders, his weight almost pulling me down. I wasn’t the only one who was tired.
“Next stop, championship,” he said.
I shook my head. “You guys. Might not be me.”
He ground to a stop, keeping me with him. “What’s that mean?”
I shoved my fingers through my dripping hair, dropping my head back to sigh. “Means this is all on you. I might not be making it to New England. I’m needed at home.”
He looked at me like I’d grown three heads. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Not kidding.”
When I’d promised to be there for Kat’s surgery months ago, I never dreamed we’d make it all the way to the championship.
We’d never even made it past the semis. Yet, here we were.
Part of me was fucking gutted there was a good chance I wouldn’t be there for the final match, but I had no intention of changing my mind.
Neither Mazzy nor Kat would be going through this alone.
Murphy shook his head. “Christ, man. Gotta be something important if you’re willing to miss the championship.”
I didn’t even have to think about it.
“The most important.”
This sucked.
Sucked so bad, I would have given up my left nut to be anywhere else. But Katty wasn’t scared, and Mazzy was keeping it together, so I had no choice but to be brave and act like I wasn’t seconds away from falling apart.
How had Mazzy survived this when Katty was only a baby?
She’d already gone through this twice with only her dad to support her.
It was supposed to be different this time.
We were supposed to lean on each other. But I was a crumpling mess inside.
Any minute, Katty’s doctor was going to come into this little hospital room to take her away for surgery.
And I was just supposed to let it happen?
The minutes stretched out like hours, every tick of the clock a hammer to my skull.
Somewhere across the country, my team was arriving in the city where our final match would be held tomorrow…
and here I was, sitting on a stiff hospital bed with cartoon decals on the wall, trying not to spiral while my daughter watched videos on my phone.
When Mazzy realized Kat’s surgery would fall on the day before the final match, she’d tried to reschedule, and we could have.
In six months. Too long to wait when it came to our daughter’s eyesight.
Mazzy had tried to get me to go anyway. But I had to be here, not just for her and Kat, but for me.
This was my job, and nothing was more important than being Kat’s dad.
I’d made the right choice. I’d make it again and again if I had to. If things went well, if I felt comfortable enough leaving after the surgery, I would. But the only promises I’d made were to Mazzy and my daughter.
The selfish part of me, still new to this dad thing, wished I could bolt—run far and fast until I couldn’t feel this…burning fear.
A gentle knock sounded, and a nurse stepped in, carrying a folded set of blue scrubs and a matching cap. Her smile was kind, practiced. The kind that said she did this dance with terrified parents all day long.
“All right, parents,” she chirped. “Who’s going to accompany Kateryna into the operating room until she goes to sleep?”
My chest seized.
This was it.
Mazzy stepped forward. “I can go—”
“No.” Katty’s voice was soft but stubborn. She reached for my hand, her little fingers curling around mine. “I want Daddy to come with me.”
The room tilted. Katty called me Benny or “my dad”. Never once until now had she called me “Daddy.” Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I had about half a second to let the word sink into my bones before I forced my face into something that looked like a smile.
“Okay, sweetheart,” I rasped, clearing my throat. “Daddy’s got you.”
I put on the scrubs the nurse had brought, probably looking as stupid as I felt since they were skintight. Clearly not sized for six-and-a-half-foot rugby players, but I made it work.
Mazzy took out her phone and snapped a picture. “You look cute.”
I scooped Katty up in my arms. “She’s cuter.”
Laughing softly, Mazzy took a picture of the two of us, then slipped her phone back in her pocket. With a deep inhale, she stepped forward, her hands on each of our arms.
“I love you both so much.”
Katty reached out to pet her mother’s hair. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m not scared.”
Good thing she wasn’t. I was scared shitless. And when my eyes met Mazzy’s, the same fear reflected back at me. That made me feel marginally better. If the strongest woman I knew was a little afraid, maybe I wasn’t such a punk-ass wimp after all.
I dipped down, kissing Mazzy’s forehead. “Love you, baby. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, her lashes fluttering as she blinked back tears. “See you guys soon.” She squeezed Katty’s hand. “We’ll be waiting for you. Right here.”
“Okay,” Katty whispered, her head falling onto my shoulder. “See you soon, Mommy.”
Steeling myself, I nodded to the nurse. “Lead the way.”
I’d faced down giants. Had had my head bashed in more times than I could count. And still, I walked back on the pitch without fear. Yet, the short walk to the operating room had me quaking in my sneakers in a way nothing else ever had.
From there, things went fast. Katty was situated on the operating table. A doctor explained what was going to happen. My daughter blinked up at me, giving me a brave smile. Then someone placed a mask over her nose and mouth, and her breaths became squeaky as her eyes grew heavy.
Then she was gone. Fast asleep, her hand limp in mine.
I took one last look at her, dread heavy in my gut, and forced myself to walk away.
Mazzy was waiting for me in the room, her arms open. I walked right into them while reminding myself not to fall apart. How could I support her if I did?
Once we got through this, I’d feel it.
Until then, I had to hold myself together for both my girls.