CHAPTER 37
Black Star week turned every ordinary travel detail into a rivalry ritual.
Austin traveled to Dallas on Wednesday, November twenty-fourth for the Thanksgiving game.
The Dominion’s black-and-gold spectacle filled broadcasts and sponsor demands, but Cole’s itinerary to Mara remained practical: departure, hotel, meeting blocks, game-day unavailability, medical contact, Nolan backup route, scheduled return flight.
He arrived at Mara’s house before departure for the planned two-hour block.
Ava coughed while eating breakfast.
One dry sound. Then another.
Cole looked at Mara.
“Daycare has a viral bug moving through,” she said. “No fever, normal breathing, drinking normally.”
“When did it start?”
“Last night. I was going to tell you at pickup.”
The old Mara might have waited until symptoms became important enough to justify interruption. This Mara named them early.
“Thank you.”
He crouched near Ava’s high chair without assessing what he could not diagnose. Her color remained normal. She waved banana at him.
“What does her pediatrician say?”
“Supportive care unless symptoms change. I called this morning. I have the after-hours route.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No. You have team travel. She is stable.”
Every protective instinct shouted that leaving a coughing child repeated his worst failure.
Cole told Mara before fear acted.
“I want to order a private pediatric team and stay in the driveway.”
“I know.”
“I am not doing either.”
“Good.”
“If breathing changes, you contact the treating clinician and tell me as soon as safe. I trust your judgment. I want the written plan if she is evaluated.”
“Agreed.”
He left on schedule.
In Dallas, the team entered meeting lockdown. Cole kept his phone in the permitted location and checked only during authorized breaks. Mara sent concise updates: mild cough, fluids good, nap normal. No photographs designed to reassure him beyond evidence.
At the hotel Wednesday night, Rafe found Cole reading the same message.
“Child sick?”
“Mild cough.”
“Mara knows what she’s doing.”
“I know.”
“That sounds like an argument.”
“It’s repetition until my nervous system accepts jurisdiction.”
Thursday morning, the cough sounded barky on audio. Mara called the pediatric after-hours line. Cole received the update before warmups.
No distress. Watching. Written thresholds.
He asked for the clinician’s guidance, not a transfer onto the team plane or access to team medicine.
Hours before kickoff, Cole dressed in the visitors’ locker room. The Black Star game roared beyond concrete. His phone remained with authorized staff during competition.
Mara’s message arrived just before devices were secured.
Ava’s breathing had changed. Retractions appeared when she cried. They were going to St. Brigid for independent evaluation.
Cole read the words once.
Fear became action only after truth entered the room.
He told Rafe. He told Nolan the emergency route might activate. He confirmed Mara had transportation and Linda with her. Then he placed the phone in custody and followed the team onto the field.
His daughter was going to St. Brigid while he remained in Dallas.