36. Archer
ARCHER
“Set,” I call, squatting as I extend my hands in front of me. “Hut, hike!”
The ball lands in my palms, and I drop back, staying in the pocket as I scan the field ahead of me, buying time for the receivers. A lineman charges from my periphery, and I spin to the left, dodging him just in time to find an open wide receiver about fifteen yards down the field.
I hop back on my heel, drawing my arm before releasing. The moment it leaves my hand, another lineman is on me, but I watch the ball spiral through the air before landing perfectly at the center of the running back’s chest.
He maneuvers forward another five or so yards before he’s taken down, and the coach calls the play.
It wasn’t a spectacular display of my long-form technique, but in a game it would’ve gotten us a first-down, so I won’t complain.
This is one of my last team visits before the draft, and I can feel my body starting to reach it’s breaking point—between the traveling, the training, the practice, and mental preparation for the baby.
“All right, boys! Let’s pack it in.”
I take off my helmet, walking back to the sideline as a few of L.A.
’s players pat me on the back. A former teammate of mine from Texas, Will Anderson, catches up to me, tossing an arm over my shoulder.
He was in his last year of college when I joined the team, so he’s been in the professional league for a few years now.
“Sick to play with you again, man. You’ve gotten better.”
I laugh. “Thanks. I’ve worked hard the past few years.”
“Well, it shows. Plus, I’m sure all the baby excitement has a little pep in your step.” He nudges my shoulder. “My wife is pregnant with our second right now, and I swear to God, it makes me play harder.”
“Yeah.” I scratch my jaw. “That actually makes sense.”
I’ve always longed to make those I love proud. It’s motivated me to work harder, to be the best player I possibly can. To make the sacrifice of those around me worth it. My parents’ money and attention, my siblings’ time, the distance between Allie and me.
But now…the urge has increased tenfold. It’s like I don’t matter outside my capacity to make Allie and our baby proud, to protect and provide for them. To love them.
I don’t know if it’s possible to show my love through ball, but maybe that’s why I’m playing so well. I’m attempting to do exactly that, show them that every decision I make is for them.
If I’m the best, it’s for them too.
“You excited or nervous?” Anderson asks.
“Both?” I rub the back of my neck awkwardly.
“I can’t stop wondering what her face is going to look like.
I can’t wait to see her—look at her and hold her.
I already love her so much, I didn’t know a sensation like it existed, and that is extra terrifying because how am I going to handle it when she’s actually here, you know?
” When I look at him, he’s giving me the widest shit-eating grin.
The kind of expression that shows he knows exactly what I’m saying.
“Plus, with the draft and everything… I don’t know. It’s a lot of change all at once.”
He leans in, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he nods, sharp green eyes meeting mine. “Good change. I promise. It’s the scariest, most fulfilling, most panic-inducing, wonderfully fleeting experience in the world. You’ll do great.”
Anderson talks with so much confidence, I can’t help but feel blanketed in reassurance, even though the guy has no way of knowing if I’ll be a good dad. But for how often I feel completely lost in navigating parenthood, it’s nice to have someone look at me with so much faith.
“Thanks.”
He smiles, nodding, before his gaze drifts to something behind my head.
“Mister Ramos. You did great today,” Jerry, the offensive coordinator for Los Angeles’s professional team, the Lightning, says as he holds his hand out.
“Thank you.” I return the shake. “Thank you for the opportunity to let me come play for you.”
“We’re glad to have you. Now, why don’t you head down to the locker room and freshen up, then I’ll take you around the facility and give you a tour.”
“That would be great.”
The man nods once before directing his gaze to Anderson. “You two seem to be friendly. Show Archer to the showers, will you?”
“Got it, Coach.” Will guides me down the field and toward the tunnel behind the goal.
I glance around the stadium, the seventy-thousand some-odd seats, and the bright blue open sky above them.
I inhale the familiar smell of turf, and absorb the vast size of the stadium, imagining what it’ll be like to play for one this size.
I know it’s unlikely I’ll be drafted to a Southern California team, a place that would allow me to keep Allie and I close to family, but for just this moment, I open myself up to the hope of it.
I see the vision of an electric blue jersey with my name on the back, California sun and sea breeze whisking through the stadium as I run out of the tunnel in front of me now.
I imagine playing in a place that feels like home, with my family watching, because they won’t be far.
For one brief moment, I allow that hope to bloom.
“It feels like this is a bachelor party or something,” Weston says as we step into the restaurant, fiddling with the collar on his button-up.
“You’ve never been to a bachelor party, Wes,” Leo snickers, holding the door open.
“Maybe not. But I did have sex with your daughter this morning.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I swallow down a laugh, clearing my throat as my eyes dart to my dad beside me. He’s smirking, and as Leo and Wes stride ahead of us, continuing their bickering, my dad bursts with laughter. “God, he needs someone to put him in his damn place. It’s nice to see Wes come out of his shell like that.”
“If I said something like that to Dom, he’d punch me in the face,” I murmur beneath my breath, ensuring that the man in question isn’t too close behind me.
It’s nice to see Leo and Weston banter. I’m a little envious of it, admittedly.
I’ve known Dom my entire life, and while I know there is love between us, I’ve never had that kind of comfort.
He’s always been fiercely protective of Allie, and I know my uncle is over Willow too, but it’s just… different.
Maybe because Weston saved Willow. Healed her broken parts. She’s brighter since she’s known him—an iridescence that’s evident to us all.
But Allie never had to be healed—at least, not in the way that Willow did, and I think that is, in part, because of me. I’ve protected her at every turn, I’ve shown her exactly the kind of love she deserves since I was old enough to express love at all.
Yet, I’ve never quite felt like I obtained her dad’s approval.
Even though L.A. is only a two-or-so-hour drive from Pacific Shores, the team still paid for a night at a pretty nice hotel downtown.
When the team visit happened to fall on the same weekend as Allie’s baby shower, my dad, uncles, brother and Weston decided to drive up and spend the evening with me following the visit.
Carter and Dom drove over from Santa Monica too.
My dad upgraded my hotel room to a larger suite, and Z took it upon himself to plan a boy’s night to give me a babymoon—which I’m certain isn’t right.
Pretty sure a babymoon should consist of me taking Allie on a trip before she gives birth.
Which I can’t do so close to the draft, and it makes this dinner feel incredibly undeserved.
The hostess shows us to our table in the dimly lit bistro—a round corner booth with enough space for the eight of us to fit comfortably. August slides in first, Leo and Weston beside him, as Leo mutters, “I liked you better when you were awkward, shy, and kept your mouth shut.”
“Well, Willow started feeding my ego real well and I guess I found my voice.”
My dad chuckles as he shuffles in beside Leo, my brother following. I sit down next, with Dom on my other side and Carter at the end.
I feel awkward sitting next to Dom, and I wish I would’ve thought this through better. It’s not that I’m scared or uncomfortable with him, I’ve known him my entire life, and while we’ve experienced a lot of bumps in the road throughout my youth, we’ve been fine in recent years.
But I got Allie pregnant, and I’m taking her away, and his granddaughter away. It’s not the future he wanted for Allie—at least not yet—and we haven’t had a one-on-one conversation since we broke the news back in November.
“How was your visit with The Lightning?” Carter asks after we order drinks.
Zander tries to get a round of shots before he’s promptly shut down by my dad, but most of the guys order beer. I try to get water, but I’m talked into one single Diet Coke by my brother.
I could drink, but I’m not willing to risk anything setting me off the rhythm I’ve been on in recent weeks—not this close to the draft. I’ll celebrate properly once I sign the contract.
“I think it went well. I wasn’t like…setting records or blowing minds, but I didn’t choke.” I laugh roughly.
“Mm-hmm.” Z hums. “I have a feeling your version of mediocre is everyone else’s version of extraordinary. I’m sure you were great.”
One thing I love most about my brother is that he is never jealous.
He’s a Division I athlete like I am, but has no plans to go pro, and yet he’s never resented my decision to do so.
He’s never judged me for being far away, for choosing football over parties and fun, for taking up more of our parents’ time and money with my sport, for choosing a path outside our hometown and our family businesses, knowing it’s likely he’ll feel the pressure to take them over himself.
“It would be really nice if you got drafted to a team like L.A.,” Dom says. “Close to home.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “That would be the dream.”
The waitress returns with our drinks before taking our orders—Zander absolutely left out how expensive this restaurant is, and I can tell my dad is not happy about Z volunteering him to pick up the tab.
As they begin arguing about what Zander has in store for the rest of the night, Leo and Weston talk surfing—Wes is preparing for his first Championship Tour this summer—and Carter moves over to the other end of the booth so he can catch up with August.
Leaving me and Dom.
“I was hoping I’d get the chance to talk to you tonight,” he says, voice gruff and gravely. Like he thinks this is as awkward as I do. “We haven’t seen each other lately. Since the—” He clears his throat.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I know I haven’t always been easy on you, but I think that’s something you’re about to understand a lot more here soon.
” He huffs a laugh, a wistful tilt of his lips as he looks down at his drink.
“It was just…jarring, y’know? You were like this little kid—nine, I think—the first time you told me you were going to marry her.
You were all in, so fast. It was fucking scary.
I wanted Allie to be a kid for as long as possible, and you’ve kind of always felt like a stoic, serious, little man. ”
I track the condensation trickling down my glass, water beading on my thumb as I wait for him to continue.
“I was afraid of her growing up too fast, getting hurt too soon. Even though I know you’d never do it on purpose, you’d never mean to break her heart, you were children.
” I raise my chin to look at him, watching Dom’s eyes drift across the table.
“I’d seen it happen before, that kind of love from such a young age, and the heartache that comes with it. I didn’t want her to experience that.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I only nod.
Dom pulls his gaze back to me. “And I know, logically, none of that is your fault. I know that you’ve been hurt too, and you both have done your best, but sometimes, in an effort to protect her, I’d wish she’d just move on.
” He sighs, shaking his head. “I know it’s selfish of me because at the end of the day, we all know that if she’d ended up with someone else, she’d always be wishing it was you.
I just… I hated seeing her break her own heart over and over again, I was—I still am—afraid of her not living the life she deserves, because she’s too caught up in hanging onto you. ”
“I know,” I murmur, now watching the bubbles float up from the bottom of my soda, needing to focus on anything other than Dom and the shit he’s saying right now. The way it’s splitting me open. “I’m afraid of that too.”
“But…” he continues, “I also want you to know, Archer, that I’m happy it’s you.”
I raise my head, gaze clashing against his. His lips curve upward, a knowing smile.
“I know you’ll take care of her, and I know you won’t let her lose herself inside your life, inside motherhood. You’ll make sure she keeps following her dreams, right?”
I nod.
His mouth twitches, almost playful. “There isn’t anyone else I’d want to be the dad of my grandbaby, even if it’s happening too goddamn soon and I’m too goddamn young to even be uttering such a sentence.” He claps a hand to my shoulder, squeezing tight. “You’re going to be a goddamn good dad.”
Emotion pricks behind my eyes, my voice coming out cracky and rough when I say, “Thank you. I…” I clear my throat. “I needed to hear that from you, I think.”
“I know.” His soft smile morphs into a full-fledged grin. “I can’t wait to see that baby girl put you through the fucking ringer, kid.”
Dom says it loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of our table. The conversations draw to a close as everyone looks in our direction, stifling laughter and shooting me smirks.
My dad raises his glass. “I’ll fucking cheers to that.”