Chapter 33
I tie my cleats for the third time, even though they’re already secure. My hands need something to do that isn’t checking my phone again.
“You’re going to break those laces if you keep that up,” Tiff says, settling onto the bench beside me with Ella on her lap. Mike stands behind her with his arms crossed as he watches me.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re really not,” Mike says flatly. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“Game nerves.”
Mike glances down at Ella, then back at me. “Right. Sure. That's totally what this is.”
I don't look up from my cleats. “Drop it, Mike.”
“Can't do that, man. You're about to walk onto that field in front of seventy thousand people and six NFL scouts. You need your head straight.”
“My head is straight.”
“Is Honey-bee coming?” Ella asks, her little voice cutting through the tension. She's holding Mr. Nibbles, the stuffed bee she brought for Honey, and my chest tightens.
“I don't know, Ella-bear.”
I can feel Mike watching me, can feel the question I'm not asking hanging in the air.
“Liv's working on her,” Mike says finally, and I know he can see right through me. “That's all I've heard. She's trying.”
I nod once, not trusting myself to say more.
Tiff reaches over and squeezes my arm. “That's good, right? Olivia can be pretty persuasive.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out rough. “She can be.”
I want to ask more. Want to know if Honey's okay, if she slept, if she's still as broken as she was when she walked away from me last night. But I can't. Because if I start asking, I won't stop, and I need to focus.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” I stand, grabbing my helmet. “That I'm terrified she won't show? That I proposed at the worst possible moment and I can't take it back? That I feel like I'm losing her and there's nothing I can do about it?”
The locker room goes quiet. A few guys nearby pretend they're not listening, but I can feel their attention shift our way.
Mike's expression softens. “Yeah, man. That's exactly what I want you to say. Because keeping it bottled up isn't helping.”
“Uncle Zach sad?” Ella's eyes are wide and concerned.
I’m fucking all of this up.
I force a smile and crouch down to her level. “I'm okay, kiddo. Just nervous about the game.”
“You're gonna win,” she says with absolute certainty. “And then Honey-bee will be so happy and give you a big hug.”
If only it were that simple.
A slow whistle interrupts the moment, and Sebi appears beside us, with his pads on but no jersey yet. His eyes lock onto Tiff immediately.
“Well, well,” he says, flashing his most charming smile. “Zach, I always knew you were gorgeous for a man, but I didn't realize it runs in the family.”
“Sebi,” I warn.
“Sebastian Torres, but everyone calls me Sebi,” he says, extending his hand to Tiff. “And you are absolutely stunning.”
Tiff raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Tiffany, and you are absolutely shameless.”
“I prefer confident.”
Mike steps forward, positioning himself between him and Tiff. “I'm Mike, Tiff's very protective friend who also played football in high school with Zach. So unless you want to explain to Coach why one of his star players is in the ER before kickoff, I'd suggest you take a step back.”
“Sorry.” Sebi raises his hands. “Was just trying to lighten the mood since our QB is acting like a wreck.”
“I’m not a wreck.”
You've tied your cleats three times,” Tiff points out.
“Four,” Mike corrects.
Coach Summers' whistle cuts through the noise. “Alright, families out! We've got a game to win, gentlemen, and I need your full attention.”
The atmosphere shifts immediately. The easy chatter dies as parents and siblings start filing toward the exit.
Tiff gives me a quick hug. “She'll come, Zach. Liv won't let her miss this.”
“And if she doesn't?”
“Then you play anyway. You play like your life depends on it, because right now, that's all you can control.”
Ella wraps herself around my legs. “Score lots of touchdowns for Honey-bee!”
“I will, kiddo.”
Mike claps my shoulder as they head out. “Focus on the game, man. Everything else will work itself out.”
I want to believe him.
Once the families clear out, Coach Summers moves to the center of the room, slamming his clipboard down on the table.
“Listen up,” he barks. “Brighton's defense has been studying film all week. They know every play we've run this season.” He points to the whiteboard covered in X's and O's. “So we're going to give them something they haven't seen.”
He launches into the strategy—new formations, adjusted routes, changes to our pass protection. I try to focus, but part of my mind keeps drifting to the stands, wondering if she's out there, if Olivia convinced her, if she's okay.
“Evans!”
My head snaps up. “Yes, Coach?”
“I said, what's the hot route if you see Cover 2?”
“Slant to Mason, check down to the tight end if he's covered.”
“Good. Now get your head in the game.” His voice drops lower. “Winner goes to the championship. Everything we've worked for comes down to tonight.” He meets each of our eyes. “Now let's go show them what Hope football is all about.”
The energy explodes throughout the room. Guys start pounding their chests, shouting, getting themselves hyped. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Block out everything else. Block out the doubt, the fear, the questions. Right now, there's only football.
I strap on my helmet and follow the team toward the tunnel. The sound of our cleats on concrete echoes off the walls, feeling like thunder as it vibrates through me.
The crowd's roar hits us before we even emerge. I can feel the vibration of seventy thousand people through the ground beneath me.
Steam hisses, smoke machines fire, confetti cannons explode as we burst through the tunnel. The lights are blinding, the noise deafening, but I keep my head down.
Don't acknowledge the crowd. Stay in your own head.
I jog toward the sidelines, my mind running through the first series of plays, when something makes me look up.
And that's when I see her.
Honey's in the student section, wearing my jersey, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Olivia's beside her, and even from this distance I can see Honey's trying to smile.
She came.
Whatever happened on Thursday night, whatever doubts have been eating at her—none of it matters right now.
She's here.
And I'm about to play the biggest game of my life.
Let’s fucking go.