Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dylan
I’ve spent most of my life chasing noise. Stadium lights. Crowds. The hard collision of pads on a cold field.
But standing here with Lucy, the only sounds are falling water and her breathing. I don’t have to perform or prove anything. I only have to be present.
Part of me still doesn’t know what to do with this much peace.
Tension was normal in our house, even before my parents divorced. Nothing dramatic enough to name, but always there. Tight voices, unfinished conversations, and doors closing harder than they needed to.
Maybe watching them taught me how quickly love can become something people endure instead of something that steadies them.
I reach for the shampoo bottle and then start washing Lucy’s hair.
She laughs softly and says, “You spoil me.”
“I’m building a very specific skill set.”
She smiles, and the look in her eyes hits deeper than I expected. Not playful. Not teasing. Just calm.
After I finish rinsing her hair, her hands move over my shoulders, returning the care with the same quiet attention.
The shower settles around us again—just water, breath, and the space between us.
And I find myself wondering if this is what I’ve been chasing all along.
This.
Football has always felt like destiny.
When you’re good at something early, people start shaping your future for you before you even understand what it means.
So I did what everyone expected. I worked harder, trained longer, and skipped parties and dances everyone else seemed to have time for.
Football didn’t leave room for much else.
A life built from quiet mornings. Shared routines. Someone who sees you when you’re not performing.
Lucy rinses the last of the soap away and turns so we’re face to face, her hair slicked back, her cheeks flushed from the steam. She smiles up at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I can’t believe I’m volunteering with Gemma this morning,” she says. “I’ve never volunteered at a food bank before.”
“You’re going to love it,” I tell her. “You two already act like you’ve known each other forever.”
“It feels nice. Being included. Doing something that matters.”
Her words stick with me.
Included. That’s what this feels like.
“I wish I could come,” I admit. “But I’m glad you’re going. I think you’ll enjoy doing something with Gemma that’s yours.”
She reaches up and cups my face gently. “You get some much-needed time with you mom. That matters too.”
I nod, even though part of me hates the idea of the day pulling us in separate directions. Everything here feels temporary—like the second we leave Dallas, reality is waiting.
“It’s been really good being home,” I say quietly, pressing my forehead to hers. “I haven’t felt this close to my family in a long time.”
There were years when this house didn’t feel like home at all.
When dinners ended with slammed doors and long silences.
When Gemma and I learned to disappear into our rooms whenever Mom and Dad started circling the same arguments again.
When they finally ended the marriage, I spent years living out of a suitcase between two homes. Ever since, stability has felt less like comfort and more like something I have to build for myself.
Lucy studies me for a second, then smiles. “Maybe that’s not a coincidence.”
Maybe it isn’t.
The water continues to fall around us, hot and constant.
And for once, my future doesn’t feel like a spotlight.
It feels like a question.
One that might have more than one right answer.
Lucy pulls back just enough to search my face, her eyes steady but curious.
“You don’t want to go back, do you?”
I shut off the water and reach for a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders before grabbing one for myself. Steam lingers in the air, but the warmth between us shifts into something quieter—heavier.
“It’s not that I don’t want to go back,” I say slowly. “It’s just… being here. With you. With my mom and Gemma.” I exhale. “It feels like something I didn’t realize I’d been missing.”
“I get that,” she says gently. “But you didn’t get where you are by accident, Dylan. You’re right on the edge of the life you’ve been working toward.”
I nod, because she’s right. She usually is.
“I just don’t want this to be the moment everything starts slipping away,” I admit. “My family hasn’t felt this normal, if I can even call it that, in a long time.”
She smiles softly, her fingers brushing the edge of the towel at my waist. “Then don’t treat going back like losing this,” she says. “This still exists when we leave Dallas.”
I lean down and kiss her, slow and grateful. She always knows how to calm me without making me feel small.
***
I stand in the driveway a little longer than necessary, watching Lucy and Gemma buckle into the car. Gemma’s practically vibrating with excitement, already talking a mile a minute about the food bank. Lucy turns in her seat and gives me one last smile before Gemma pulls away.
I wave until the car disappears down the street.
Then, I head back inside, that familiar pull settling in again. We’ll only be apart a few hours, but real distance might be waiting for us down the road. And that’s not something I can ignore any longer.
I find Mom in the kitchen, rinsing dishes, humming softly. She looks up when she hears me.
“Gemma’s so excited she’s spending the morning with Lucy,” she says lightly.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Lucy seemed excited, too.”
Mom studies me for a moment, then dries her hands on a towel. “You’re really serious about her, aren’t you?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah. I am.”
She smiles, but there’s thoughtfulness behind it now. “That’s good, Dylan. I can see how much she means to you. But I need to ask. Are you already making decisions around a future that hasn’t happened yet?”
“I’m trying to prepare.”
“No, you’re trying to control it.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Your father mentioned that you’ve been worrying about what happens after graduation.”
I shift my weight, suddenly feeling like I’m being examined. “I’ve just been thinking… if I end up across the country, and she’s still back home, that’s a lot to ask of both of us.”
“I’m not telling you to choose football over Lucy,” Mom says. “I’m telling you not to make a permanent decision because you’re afraid of a temporary distance.”
I look away.
“You deserve a life that has room for both,” she continues. “But you have to let the opportunities arrive before you decide what they cost.”
“Whatever happens, I’m not treating her like an afterthought.”
Her expression softens. “Wanting a future with someone doesn’t mean sacrificing your own. You deserve both, Dylan.”
I nod, even though the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.
“I just want to do this right.”
She squeezes my arm once, reassuring. “Love Lucy. Pursue football. When a real decision arrives, make it with her instead of making it for both of you now.”
When she turns back to the sink, I stay where I am, staring at the counter.
I know she’s right.
I know football matters.
But so does Lucy.
For once, I’m not chasing one future and treating everything else as a distraction.
I want both.
But maybe I want a life with Lucy more.