Chapter 31
“Uncle Zach, your locker is small.”
“It's regulation size, Ellie-Bear,” I say as she steps into said locker, not caring that she's squishing my bag and everything in it.
“But where do your legs go?”
“Ella, get out of Uncle Zach's locker.” Tiff reaches over and pulls her out before looking at me. “I'm sorry, Z. I hope there was nothing important in there.”
I wave her off. “Nothing more important than my favorite niece.”
She laughs softly, smoothing Ella’s hair back as she shifts her weight on her hip. The moment she winces, Jamie steps in without hesitation, taking Ella from her arms and seating her next to Reese.
“You’ve got to be careful, babe,” Jamie says, rubbing Tiff’s back. “The pelvic floor pain isn’t going to get better when you keep lifting Ella.”
Tiff sighs, placing her hand on top of her bump. “You can’t expect me not to lift my child for the next four months, can you?”
He nods. “I can. You spend so much time worrying about everyone else in this family, you don’t worry about yourself. I’m stopping that now.”
“Hey, Ellie-Bear, have you checked inside my bag?” I say, pointing at the now squished form at the bottom of my locker.
She shakes her head.
“Check it. There’s something in there for you.”
That makes her eyes light up as she hurries back and unzips the bag.
“Is this a hat?” She squeals, taking in the red and white Raptor ball cap.
“It is. I’m sorry it’s not as fancy as the one you guys got in Hawaii, but I thought you’d like to wear it tonight.”
“Yes!” She bounces on the spot as she pulls the cap onto her head, leaving messy blonde strands to spill out underneath it. “Have you guys seen my hat?” Ella makes her way around the room, asking every one of my teammates she can find.
“You keep doing things like that, and she’s never going to leave you alone,” Tiff says.
“That's the plan. I want to be the favorite Uncle forever.”
“Favorite Uncle? Please.” Dax chortles from across the room. He pushes off the bench and opens his arms wide. “Ellie-Bear, come here. I want to see this hat.”
Ella runs into Dax's arms, and he sits back on the bench, placing her on his lap. “Who's your favorite uncle?”
“You aren't her uncle,” I point out, wrapping my wrist. “You aren't even related to her.”
“Zachary,” my mom says pointedly as she gives Dax a small smile. “Family isn't measured by how closely related our DNA is. You should know that by now.”
“I do, Ma.” She's right. I'm technically not Ella's uncle, I'm her first cousin once removed, but we've never let the details get in the way of the family dynamics.
“Exactly,” Dax says before bopping Ella's nose. “That means you have the choice, Ellie-Bear. Who you got? Me—” He touches his chest with a flourish. “Reese, or that guy over there, Zach?”
Ella looks between all of us, her brows pulling together as she thinks about it. Cute, but I don't sweat it. We all know I'm her forever favorite. I made sure of it with the playroom I made for her.
Dax leans in, looking directly at me as he says, “Take your time. This matters.”
Reese doesn't even look up from his laces. “It really doesn't.”
“Uncle Zach!” She squeals, jumping off Dax's knee and heading straight into my arms. I pull her into a hug, squeezing her tight.
“I love you,” I say, kissing her on the forehead.
“Love you too.”
“I was robbed,” Dax mutters, leaning back on the bench, feeling the defeat.
“You really weren't,” Reese adds.
Jamie clears his throat, getting our attention. “To be fair, Zach has been more than an uncle to her since she was born. He deserves the title.”
I mutter a thanks under my breath, because even though Jamie and I buried the hatchet a long time ago, I still have a hard time accepting a compliment from him. Can't help it. The guy got the girl, has a beautiful daughter with a son on the way, and is living his best life.
All the while, here I am, waiting on the girl of my dreams to realize I'm the only person for her, no head Coach to guide me out of a 2-12 hole, and a hell of a lot of press telling me I'm already done.
Guess being an asshole in high school worked out for him.
Should've taken notes.
“Is Honey coming tonight?” my dad asks as if he could hear my thoughts.
Really, Dad? You're going to just call me out like that?
Everyone around us goes quiet, silently watching for my reaction.
“Tom.” My mom hisses, elbowing him in the side. “You weren’t supposed to mention her.”
Always feels great knowing that my friends and family are so concerned about me they won't even mention the girl I'm texting constantly but am not allowed to see.
My dad clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I meant to ask: are any more of your friends coming to your final home game of the season? Mike? Olivia?”
Nice save.
“Olivia and Mike aren't coming. They're too busy with Harris.”
“Right. Right.” He nods, not making eye contact with me. “Well, big crowd, regardless.”
“Sold out,” I say, a little surprised that the home crowd are still showing up. “They want to show support after—” I flick my hand, not wanting to explain things about Coach Masters since they already know. “—everything.”
“Good,” he says before reaching over to clap my shoulder. “You deserve the support. You've been doing a great job here even if the stats aren't showing it.”
“Appreciate it,” I say slightly clipped, not wanting to keep talking about it right before a game. It gets me in the wrong headspace.
The locker room door swings open, and Coach Smith, our interim head coach, walks through. He’s got a couple of the other coaches behind him as he claps to get our attention.
“Families,” he says. “Thank you for coming and showing your support for our final home game of the season. Our boys need it after such an awful start, but we’re going to try to send them home with a preview of what we’re going to be like next season.
Team, two more road games after this, but tonight’s the one for the city. Let’s make them proud.”
The locker room hollers in support.
“Alright. We're heading out in twenty, and I need everyone dressed and ready to go.”
There's a quiet ripple of movement as guys start saying their goodbyes. Coach gives the room one more sweep, nods once, and heads back out.
Before anyone else can get to me, Dad pulls me in for a hug. “Good luck, Zach. You’ll make me proud whatever happens out there.”
“Thanks,” I say, closing my eyes.
The moment starts to sink in. The final home game of my first NFL season. Getting here is what we've been working toward since I was eight years old, and yeah, it hasn't gone as I expected, but I need to be proud of how far I've come.
Mom steps in and wraps both of her arms around me. I wrap my arms around her and let her hold on for as long as she needs because I need it too.
“Go be brilliant,” she says as she pulls back. Then she puts one hand on my jaw for a second. “You always are.”
I manage a small smile.
Tiff is last, holding her arms wide open, and wrapping them around my neck. She has to tilt up slightly now since her bump has changed the geometry of our hug, but I’ll take what I can get.
“I know this season hasn't gone the way you planned,” she whispers so only I can hear. “But I am so incredibly proud of you, and not because of any of this.” She gestures at the locker room where everyone is now saying goodbye to their families. “Just of who you are. Okay?”
I nod, looking at her.
“Thanks, sis. I love you.”
She backs away and presses her lips together.
“Don't,” she says. “The pregnancy hormones have made me extra emotional, and I can't cry in here.”
I chuckle. “I mean, you could.”
“I won't.” She squeezes my arms once and steps back. “Win this one, Z”
“I'll try my best.”
“Good luck, Evans.” Jamie gives me a nod over Ella's head. I give him one back as Ella leans out of Jamie's arms and nearly knocks her cap off in the process. Thankfully, Tiff is there to hold it in place.
“Throw the ball, Uncle Zach.”
“That's the plan.”
The room starts to empty out as family members filter toward the door. My mom squeezes my hand once as she passes and Dad gives me one final look over his shoulder.
When the door closes, and it's just the team, the pressure starts to sink in.
Everyone’s feeling it.
Dax, for once in his life, says nothing. He just picks up his helmet and studies it.
Reese is fiddling with his gloves.
Owen, who has been quietly retaping his wrist at the far end of the bench through all of this, has not looked up once. He catches my eye for a split second before looking back down.
We can't lose today. Not again.
Because if we do, we can't blame Coach Masters anymore.
I unconsciously stretch my fingers out, feeling the tingling in my wrist again. It had subsided a couple of games ago, but it came back like a persistent motherfucker when I got hit in game fourteen. And since I'm a bullheaded idiot, I haven't bothered to tell anyone about it.
It won’t fucking matter after tonight anyway.
I can feel all eyes now on me.
I know what they want.
A pep talk. One I've never been allowed to give.
I glance over at Coach Smith, who tips his chin, silently asking me to do the honors.
Okay. I've never been fond of these, but the team needs something today.
Standing, I look around the room at the guys who have bled beside me throughout this rough season. We’ve got busted knees, tape holding half our bodies together, and egos bruised by the headlines, but they never stopped showing up.
“We already know what everyone’s saying,” I start. “Our season’s been over for weeks, and this final home game doesn't matter.” I shake my head once. “But they're wrong, because this?” I gesture between us. “The grit and determination to keep going? That's something no other team has got.”
A few of my teammates whoop.
“We can still change the narrative tonight.” I tap my chest once, touching the Raptor logo sitting there. “This is still ours. This is our home.” I sweep my hand across the room to the tunnel. “Not theirs.”