Chapter 25 Afterglow #2
Ali’s words— I’m still getting used to letting myself believe that— kept looping in his head. He wasn’t going to rush her. But he wasn’t going to let her go again, either.
The wind whipped through the open roof as he sped south, Orlando-bound, the chorus bleeding through the speakers and his chest.
By the time Dylan hit the outskirts of Orlando, the late afternoon sun had dipped into that golden stretch that made everything look a little cinematic. He turned off Brantley, letting the silence settle again as downtown came into view through the windshield. Home.
He pulled into his garage just after six, the Bronco rumbling to a stop.
The house was cool and quiet inside— just the way he liked it after a few days of constant conversation.
He tossed his bag on the entry bench, grabbed a sports drink from the fridge, and dropped down onto the couch.
A few unread texts blinked on his screen, but he bypassed them and dialed the one number he knew would expect a check-in.
“Kallie,” he said when she picked up. “Just got in.”
“You alive?” she teased. “I figured you’d text from the road like a normal human, but I guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”
“I’m a man of tradition,” he deadpanned.
“Uh-huh. So? How’d it go?”
Kallie’s voice was casual, but he heard the edge beneath it. She’d seen him that night. Seen Ali. Seen what it had done to him.
Dylan leaned back into the cushions, letting his head fall against the back of the couch. “It went…” he exhaled. “Better than I expected. Fundraiser went above our projected goal. Everyone clapped. I didn’t trip over the podium. You were there, remember?”
Kallie snorted. “Not what I meant and you know it. I left you alone out there for a reason, Mac. What happened after I covered for you?”
He closed his eyes for a second, fingers tightening around the neck of his water bottle.“She was in the parking lot. Behind someone’s SUV, sitting on the pavement. Could barely breathe.” His voice dropped, almost reverent. “I found her. Talked her down.”
Silence stretched between them, but not uncomfortably.
“And since then?” Kallie asked gently.
“We’ve been… talking.” A pause. “Seeing each other.” Then, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “More than talking, really.”
Kallie’s hum was laced with amusement. “So, she’s not a ghost anymore.”
“No.” That part came out without hesitation. “She’s real. Still the most genuine person I’ve ever met. Still funny. Still gorgeous. And still way too good for me.”
“Dramatic much?” Kallie teased. But then she softened. “I’m glad, Mac. Truly. You were... lost for a long time. I think I forgot what you sounded like when you were grounded.”
He let her words settle. They both knew the version of him that came out of college wasn’t the same one she met when he was a Freshman. Football had saved him. But it hadn’t healed him.
“She’s scared,” he admitted quietly. “Worried about what people would say. About going public.”
Kallie hesitated. “And what do you want?”
Dylan didn’t flinch. “Her.” Then softer: “In whatever way she’ll let me have her.”
After the call ended, Dylan tossed his phone onto the coffee table and stretched out on the couch. For all the emotion he’d carried on the drive home, the house now felt… still. Like it was waiting with him.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. He leaned forward, grabbed his phone again, and thumbed through his unread texts. One stood out— Rocky, his teammate and longtime friend.
Rocky:
Yo. Fourth of July. Our place. Naomi’s already planning the whole damn thing— red, white, and bougie. You in?
Dylan smirked. He could already picture Naomi, looking like Vivica A. Fox’s clone, going all out with themed drinks, an inflatable waterslide, and probably a sparkler choreography that’d make the halftime show jealous.
Rocky and Naomi had been his people from the moment he was drafted. They were the kind of couple who reminded him what stability looked like— ride-or-die, no drama, just constant love and brutally honest advice.
He tapped out a reply.
Depends. Might be back in Honeyshore.
The bubbles appeared instantly.
Honeyshore?? Mac, you never go home. What’s in Honeyshore?
Dylan paused, staring at the screen.
Then typed.
Something I should’ve never left behind.
He didn’t even have time to lock his screen before his phone lit up again— this time with an incoming call from Rocky. Of course.
Dylan sighed, chuckled under his breath, and answered.
“Jesus, Rock, you couldn’t just text?”
“You drop that bomb and expect a text reply?” Rocky’s voice boomed, already loud and amplified by the telltale echo of speakerphone.
“Hi Mac!” Naomi chimed sweetly in the background. “We want details. Who is she?”
He dragged a hand down his face, leaning his head back on the couch cushion. “Y’all are too much.”
“No,” Rocky said, mock-stern. “You’re too much. You’re over here talking about something you should’ve never left behind, like you’re a damn country song. Spill it.”
“Yeah,” Naomi added. “You sound like a man who’s been wrecked. I know that tone.”
Dylan laughed despite himself, trying to sidestep, heat creeping up his neck. “It’s not like that.”
“Bullshit,” they both said at the same time.
Naomi continued, “You’ve barely looked twice at anyone since you got drafted. And now you’re skipping parties, driving home, disappearing off the grid for a weekend— don’t act like we’re not gonna put two and two together.”
He paused, then said carefully, “It’s someone from back home. From college.”
“Oooh,” Naomi whispered like she’d just opened a good book. “A college sweetheart.”
Rocky groaned. “Damn, Mac. This is serious.”
“I didn’t say that,” Dylan replied quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. “We’re just… catching up.”
“Right,” Rocky deadpanned. “And I’m just a tight end.”
Naomi laughed, and Dylan could hear the clink of a wine glass in the background.
“Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”
“Then we’ll let it slide this once,” Naomi said, all warmth. “But if this turns into something real, we get to meet her.”
“And approve her,” Rocky added.
Dylan snorted. “Thanks for the support. Real subtle.”
“You’re welcome,” Naomi sang.
Rocky added, “Just don’t forget— Fourth of July. If you’re around, we’re throwing down. If not, you better have a damn good excuse. And MBU mystery princess is on the list now.”
“Got it,” Dylan said, smiling now.
“And Mac?” Rocky’s voice dropped low. “If she’s the real thing… don’t screw it up.”
Dylan’s heart knocked hard in his chest. He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to.