Chapter 17
Graham
Iknew Quinn was intense. It was baked into her personality. Like a fierce little lynx, sharp and stubborn and focused.
But I never expected the version of her that came out during that football game.
Quinn was all in.
She cheered with the crowd, yelled every chant and fight song at the top of her lungs. She never left her feet so she didn’t miss a single play. My entire family were Cardinal fans—we often attended this very game whenever possible—but I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen someone so dedicated.
I could barely look away from her. It was such a deviation from the tense, carefully crafted facade.
She looked free.
“Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, shifting from foot to foot as her body convulsed with nerves. She glanced at me; her pale-blue eyes glinted like thawing frost in the sun. “We can do this,” she said, voice determined.
The Cardinals were on the Walleye twenty-five-yard line and had barely missed the marker by a yard on third down.
Only seconds remained on the game clock, and Cardinals were down by five.
Only a touchdown was going to win this. OCU would have to go for it on fourth down.
If they didn’t make at least that one yard, the game was over and they’d lose for the fourth year in a row.
My heart raced in anticipation. Everyone was on their feet, and I wouldn’t have been able to hear Quinn over the roar of the crowd if I hadn’t been so near. So many people were packed into the stadium that we were like sardines, pressed in on one another. But I didn’t mind being so close to her.
“Of course we can do it,” I assured her.
Quinn clasped her gloved fingers together as she glanced back down at the field. We had killer seats on the fifty-yard line. The tickets would’ve been impossible to procure if I hadn’t had my own connections. They were worth every penny.
“We still have time,” she continued, speaking mostly to herself. “We just need that one yard and then we have time to get it in the end zone. They can do it.”
I nudged her shoulder with mine. Even though the stakes of the coming moment were astronomical—the entire game was on the line—I gave her an easy smile. “One yard is nothing.”
She threw me a look. It wasn’t nothing, not in a game like this.
“How are you not nervous?” she hiss-shouted over the noise. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Trust me.” I leaned close, my mouth almost touching her ear. “I’m nervous.”
Her expression was doubtful. The music in the stadium blared again as the media break came to an end. The stadium swelled to a roar so loud there couldn’t be any more talking between us. I wouldn’t have been able to hear my own voice in the noise. My whole chest vibrated from the intensity of it.
Quinn bounced on the balls of her feet as the offense took the field. I stood tense beside her, barely able to take a proper breath as the Walleye defense met the Cardinals near the line of scrimmage.
This was it.
The crowd quieted, but barely, as the quarterback clapped his hands. The ball was snapped and the world ran in slow motion. The ball was handed to the running back, who headed straight into the clashing bodies up the middle of the field. My heart constricted.
He wasn’t going to make it.
As if the player with the ball had heard my thoughts, he bounced off the pile that had collapsed completely. A Walleye linebacker grabbed for him, but he was too fast, spinning and sprinting along the outside.
I yelled along with the entire stadium as the running back became a blur, passing the line to gain and racing along the sideline.
“GO! GO! GO!” Quinn screamed as she grabbed for my hand and squeezed so hard my bones cracked.
I didn’t care, though. I was screaming along with her, stunned at the unexpected way the play was unfolding.
He was at the ten-yard line when a safety caught up with him, making contact and almost bringing him down.
Almost.
The running back kept his legs churning, eating up the final yardage and stretching out his entire body until the football crossed the goal line. Touchdown.
The entire stadium erupted into a cacophony of cheering and pandemonium.
Quinn turned to me, disbelief and pure elation on her face. I couldn’t hear a word she said before she launched herself into my arms. Her legs wrapped around my hips, her face burrowing into the side of my neck as she squeezed me.
“We did it! We won!” I could make out her words now that she was so close to my ear.
Bodies of the sea of people around us knocked into me, the stands coming to life as others celebrated too. I held her to me, keeping my legs steady, my own smile a mile wide as the OCU band played the fight song.
Victory.
It felt so good after a three-year drought.
I inhaled. Quinn’s scent surrounded me, her hair tickling my cheek. She was still clinging to me, and I realized that she was shaking.
The stadium suddenly faded away, and my full attention went to her. She wasn’t making any noise, but I rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back.
I shifted my mouth closer to her ear. “You okay?”
She stiffened, her arms and legs wrapped tighter around me. After a pause, she nodded, face pressed against my shoulder.
The last few seconds of the game ticked away without issue, but the two of us didn’t move. Even as the crowd started to thin, some people surging onto the field while others exited normally, we didn’t move.
I wasn’t sure how long we stood there before her grip around my neck loosened. She slowly unwrapped her legs, and I set her back on her feet, her body sliding down mine. She didn’t step away, though.
Tears glistened on her cheeks when she looked up at me. A smile trembled on her lips.
“Sorry,” she rasped.
The band was still playing the fight song on loop, and I leaned down to hear her better. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Her cheeks were already red and chapped from the cold, but the color deepened. “I was just…excited. I didn’t mean to—to violate you like that.”
I chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest.” I leaned down farther. “I didn’t mind.”
That flush on her cheeks moved all the way up to her forehead. She held my gaze for a beat too long, before abruptly looking away. She blinked at the bright scoreboard, her jaw dropping.
“I still can’t believe they won,” she breathed.
I straightened, not ready to look away from her yet. “It was a rather…thrilling ending.”
She nodded, looking at the score like she didn’t believe it was real. Then, she dragged her gaze back to mine. Her eyes shone in the sunlight that was beginning to dip below the top of the stadium walls. “Thank you.” Her voice hitched. “Thank you for bringing me today. This was…amazing.”
My heart swelled at the look on her face, the happiness, the relief, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Something deeper, like an ache she kept buried.
I knew that I shouldn’t, but the adrenaline rush and the high of winning made me bold. My lips tilted up into a grin as I ducked my head low, leaning so close to her that her breath warmed my cheeks.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I whispered, my voice unusually hoarse from all the screaming. “I have one more surprise for you.”
She shivered, and I wasn’t convinced it was from the cold.
She jerked her head back. “What are you talking about?”
My smile widened as I took her hand. “Come on.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t fight me or ask questions as I guided her from the stands, down into the interior of the stadium at field level. It was only when I flashed a badge at the security guard standing near a blocked-off hallway that she questioned me.
“Where are we going?” Quinn hissed, drawing close to my side as we wandered down the white, cinderblock hall.
Members of the media flitted around like panicked birds, carrying cameras and equipment, and finding quiet corners to record post-game shows.
“Just trust me,” I murmured, giving her a reassuring smile.
She clenched her jaw, but didn’t fight me as I dragged her toward a heavy metal door with the OCU logo on it.
I glanced through the narrow, wired-glass window. “Great, almost time.” I pulled back and leaned against the nearest wall.
Quinn gave me a wide-eyed stare.
“Almost time for what?” she whispered.
I shushed her, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling. I didn’t drop her hand, and she didn’t let go of mine.
We weren’t waiting long. I felt Quinn jump beside me when the metal door burst open, a small group of people pouring out into the hallway.
I straightened, catching a glimpse of familiar silver hair peeking out from under a cap.
“Hey, Coach,” I said, loud enough to gain his attention through the flurry of people surrounding him.
He turned, his steady gaze catching on mine. “Ramsey!” he said in his deep, jovial tone.
Coach Caleb Williams was an Ohio Central legend. He’d been head coach of the Cardinals for most of my life, leading the team to fifteen conference titles and three national championships.
Coach reached for my hand, shaking it hard and pulling me in to clap me on the back. “It’s good to see you! Enjoy the game?” His bushy brows lifted as he grinned.
“An instant classic,” I said. “Congrats.”
He waved off the compliment, but he radiated with pride. “How’s your old man doing? Haven’t seen him up here in a while.”
“He’s good.” I nodded. “It’s been busy around town recently.”
“Well, tell him I said hi, and Go Birds!” He winked. Then his attention slid to my right, where Quinn was clinging to my arm as if her knees were about to give out. “Who’s this?”
I glanced down at her, stifling a laugh at the look of pure shock on her face. It was worth keeping this secret for that look alone. Her mouth was open, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe what was happening.
“This is my friend, Quinn Carpenter. She’s a lifelong fan.”
Coach’s brows inched up, almost disappearing beneath his iconic Cardinals cap. “Is that so?”
Quinn blinked at him, her jaw snapping shut as she realized he was waiting for her reply. Her head bobbed. “Yes, I—my brother and I have been fans since we were little. We never missed a game.” She sounded breathless.
I looked at her sharply. She’d never spoken to me about her brother. I hadn’t even known she had a brother.
Coach gave an approving laugh. “Well, any friend of the Ramseys is a friend of mine.”
He reached up and plucked the cap off his head. He pulled a marker out of his pocket, and signed the bill before placing it on Quinn’s head, right over her beanie.
“Tell your brother that one’s for you. If he wants one himself, he can come with you next time.”
With that, he gave her a wink. Excusing himself, he sauntered down the hallway toward the locker rooms.
I turned to Quinn as she stared after him, tears brimming in her eyes.
She was quiet on the ride back to Ember Hollow.
The entire bus was a loud racket from the excitement and elation of the win.
Dottie had prepared celebration cupcakes and passed them around to everyone, along with her whiskey flask.
Even Edith had put her knitting aside to sing the OCU alma mater and reminisce about the best plays of the game with the college kids, who were thoroughly trashed at that point.
Quinn only spoke softly to Mara when she was asked a direct question. Other than that, she sat and stared at the cap Coach Williams had given her. Something the entire bus had been drooling over the moment they saw it.
She didn’t look at it as a prize, though.
She looked at it like it was a burden she hadn’t expected to carry.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but I held my tongue. She wasn’t one to be pushed. So I didn’t try.
When we returned to Ember Hollow, we walked slowly back to my parents’ house. Quinn was still quiet, and so was I, paying extra attention to her—observing everything. When we were on the front porch steps of the B&B, Quinn stopped and turned to me. She held the signed cap in her hands.
“How do you know Caleb Williams? How did you…” She looked down at the hat.
I shifted closer to her without even thinking about it.
“Hearthstone has worked with the team before on security. He also knew my dad back in the day. I still have security clearance there.” I shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.
We stood there in a heavy quiet. The icy wind tossed the leaves along the ground. It was almost dark. Night came so early now.
Quinn’s fingers brushed over the cardinal embroidered on the cap. Then, she pushed up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the oversized leather watch she always wore. She stared at it, as if it would whisper words of comfort to her.
“My brother isn’t here anymore,” she muttered, all the emotion carefully plucked from her tone. “He won’t ever get to meet Coach Williams.” She looked up. “But thank you for doing all you did today. It was…the best day.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and something inside me pulled painfully tight. I forced myself to stay still, to keep my expression steady. Her brother was gone—and it was clear he’d meant a lot to her.
I swallowed back all the words of sympathy gathering on the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for her, though. From touching her. I placed my hand against her cheek.
“You’re allowed to have good days, Quinn,” I said softly.
Her eyes went round and glassy, like she was holding back tears. Her fingers gripped the Cardinals cap so hard it crumpled a little on the sides.
“I feel like I shouldn’t,” she whispered, the words hushed like a deeply concealed confession. “He should still be here…it’s all my fault.”
I stepped closer on instinct, until our bodies were almost flush. I pressed my thumb against her lips, silencing her. I didn’t know the details of what she was talking about, but I didn’t need them.
“This guilt isn’t something you need to bear,” I said, voice low but sharp. “Whatever happened, I know your brother wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself.”
Her jaw clenched, as if she were forcing herself to stay quiet. I leaned down, desperate for whatever it was she wanted or needed to say. My thumb skimmed her bottom lip, coaxing.
“You can tell me anything, Quinn,” I breathed. “I will always listen to you.”
Quinn’s breath caught. Our gazes held and something shifted in the air. The cold wrapped around us suddenly became heated. We leaned closer, as if being pulled in by some magnetic force. She lifted her chin until our mouths were almost touching…
And then the front door opened. We broke apart, the moment shattering as a man stood there, glowering at us.
Quinn gasped, blinking at him. “Preston?”