Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Liam
It’s the first game of the regular season.
I wake up before my alarm. Game days are always like this for me.
My adrenaline is spiked, and I’m anxious to get on the field.
And this game is special because I get to play against the Cowboys, which means I’m playing against Archie.
I can’t wait to see him, and I’m even more excited for him to meet my daughter and Alie.
What makes it even more special is that this is the first time my daughter will get to see me play in person. It’s also the first time she and Alie will stand on the field with me before kickoff. The first time we’ll take photos publicly. And it’s the first birthday I’ll get to celebrate with her.
I decided to stay at my place last night, just so I could get centered. Alie’s having a party planner at her place this morning to set up a birthday party for Sera after the game, so it’ll be hectic over there soon.
I sit on the edge of my bed, thinking about all the changes that’ve occurred in the last six months. Six months ago, I didn’t know she existed. Six months ago, Alie was a memory. Now … I can’t imagine breathing without either one of them.
I pick up my phone and shoot Alie a text.
Liam: You guys up?
She responds immediately.
Alie: Yep. Sera’s been up since six asking if it’s Daddy’s football day.
I grin.
Liam: I’m getting ready to head out now. You’ll bring her down early?
Alie: Yes, I will. We’ll see you in a few hours.
Liam: Love you.
Alie: Love you too.
I close my eyes for a second and breathe. This—this—is what I’m playing for now. It’s not about the fame. I want my daughter to be proud of me. I want to provide for my family. And the truth is, football won’t last forever. But my family will always be here.
When I get to the field, I get dressed and taped. I don’t usually talk much before games. I try to get locked in, visualize plays and routes, and think about the opposing team’s defense.
Once I’m ready, I make my way out onto the field. The stadium is humming with electricity when I step out of the tunnel. It’s still a little early, but the stands are already filling. The grass is still clean and sharp. And music is blasting through the speakers.
I jog toward midfield, but then I see them, so I change direction.
Seraphina and Alie are standing near the rope barrier. She has a tiny #4 jersey on, and her hair is in pigtails, and I swear my heart skips a beat. And Alie’s wearing a custom jersey with my name and number on it. Goddamn. They light up my life.
Sera spots me instantly. “Daddy!”
She tries to duck under the rope, but Alie holds her back.
I walk over to them, kiss Alie, and lift Sera into my arms.
“I wear your shirt!” she announces proudly. “And I gots a ’adge.”
“I see that! And a badge too,” I say, trying not to choke up. “You look better in it than I do.”
She turns in my arms to show me the back. “Wook.”
Instead of my name on the back, it says Daddy.
I look at Alie, and she smiles at me, her eyes soft.
“What does the back of yours say?” I ask Alie.
She turns, and I see my last name on her back. And, fuck me, I love it. She looks good with my name on her. Come to think of it, I’ve never had anyone important to me, outside of my immediate family, wear my jersey.
Now, she is my family.
“People are taking pictures of us. I guess we’re really doing this.” She laughs.
“We really are.” I kiss her forehead.
“You ready for today?” she asks quietly.
“Not really. Just anxious to get out here and play. I’m excited to see Arch too.”
“You’re going to be amazing.” She puts her hand on my arm.
Sera grabs my face with both hands, bringing my attention back to her.
“You win?”
I laugh. “That’s the plan.”
She nods seriously. “Okay, Daddy. Win.”
A photographer walks over to us and interrupts. “Can I get a photo, Liam?”
I look at Alie, and she hesitates for a half second, but nods. I know she’s stayed out of the spotlight for most of her life, and she’s kept Sera out of it too—for which I’m grateful—but I want the entire world to know that these are my girls.
“Yes, that’d be great.”
Sera’s nestled between us, already grinning.
Alie moves to my other side and slips her hand into mine naturally.
The camera flashes, and it makes Sera giggle.
“Thank, Liam. Ms. Grant.” He nods to her.
Sera kisses my cheek. “Daddy play now?” she asks.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Soon.”
“I cheer,” she says, clapping.
I kiss her on the forehead, then turn to Alie.
“I’ll see you after the game.” I kiss her lips, lingering for a minute longer than I should on the sideline.
“Be safe,” she whispers against my lips.
“Always.”
“And win.” She pats me on the ass.
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink.
Alie reaches for Sera.
“Come on, baby. Daddy needs to get warmed up.”
“Bye, Daddy!” she says, waving as Alie turns to walk away.
“See you later.” I wave back.
As I turn toward the field, one of my favorite reporters intercepts me.
“Liam, can I grab you for a minute?” she asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
I lean down so I can hear her over the growing noise.
“This is a big opener for you today. Are you feeling the pressure of being the new quarterback for the Titans?”
“There’s always pressure, but I’m excited. I’m ready to get out there and play. Give the fans a winning season.”
“You know I gotta ask. You were just with Alie Grant, and I assume her daughter, who hasn’t been in the public eye. Is that why you came to New York?”
I look toward Alie and Sera and watch them as they near the tunnel, Alie straightening Sera’s jersey.
“Not a story I’m going to share with you today, Carissa, but that’s my daughter and the love of my life. They’re my reason for everything.”
She blinks, mouth open.
“Well then, congratulations!”
“Thanks.” I smile proudly and jog off before she can ask anything else.
“Good luck today, Liam,” she shouts after me.
I throw a hand over my shoulder and wave.
The stadium is vibrating with energy.
There’s one minute and twelve seconds left, and we’re down by four with the ball on the twenty-two-yard line. The red zone always feels smaller than it looks on film. Everything happens faster. Windows shrink. Lanes collapse.
I press my palms over the holes in my helmet so I can hear my coach through the headset over the noise of the crowd.
“Second and seven,” I mutter. We don’t need a field goal. We need a touchdown.
Coach’s voice crackles. “Trips right. Z Dagger Y Cross. On one.”
I jog to my huddle, clapping once to get their attention.
“Gun, gun. Trips right.”
We all clap once, then get into formation. I have one wide receiver alone on the left boundary. Trips bunched to the field—my other wide receiver is wide, the slot stacked just inside, Brody tight to the formation. My back offsets to my left hip.
I see their defense shift with us. Moving their two safeties high, their corner, and my friend Silas Arbuckle, covering my wide receiver playing soft, then their nickel shaded on the inside.
My eyes travel slowly, studying them. The middle linebacker, also known as the Mike, hovers at five yards, feet bouncing. He’s the key.
“Fifty-two’s the mike!” I point, resetting protection.
I step forward, my hands out.
“Blue eight! Blue eighty!”
The safeties don’t roll. Two-high shell.
Cover two? Maybe they rotated late.
I can see my wide receiver. Silas, covering him, is giving a cushion. The twelve-yard comeback is there if I can take it. It’s safe and efficient. But safe doesn’t win games down four.
I clap. “Set! Hut!”
The ball snaps clean into my hands. Three-step from gun. My tailback crosses me, and I scan for pressure.
No blitz.
My eyes snap to the safeties. They widen with my wide receiver’s vertical release. The outside receiver eats up the sideline, forcing Silas to turn and run. The deep half safety opens his hips. Ready.
Now I find the mike.
He hesitates, and that’s all I need.
Brody releases clean, angling across the formation on the deep cover. Slot pushes vertical, then plants hard, cutting into his dig at fifteen.
The mike drifts with the crossing tight end. And there it is.
My window opens for half a second between the sinking hook defender and the backside safety.
I hitch once. Then the pocket tightens.
The right guard gets walked back into me, so I slide left to keep my base under me. Don’t drift. Don’t fade. Reset.
The dig opens behind the linebackers.
I plant my back foot and let the ball fly. It leaves my hand in a perfect spiral. Time slows in the way it only does in moments like this. The noise of the crowd disappears, and it’s just leather and air.
Slot settles in the void, numbers square to me, and the safety drives late. Too late.
The ball hits him in the chest, and he turns upfield.
Contact explodes at the five.
He spins, legs moving, dragging a defender to the three before they haul him down. Then the stadium erupts when we get first and goal.
I sprint down the field, getting in his face. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
The defense scrambles to line up. They’re gassed. And we won’t give them air.
Forty-five seconds with the clock running.
I run back to the huddle.
“Same formation,” I say, voice steady. “We’ll kill it if they zero.”
We line up again, trips right. Their defense crowds the line this time. One safety creeps down, single high. Man-on-man coverage.
I smile, then lean toward my wide receiver. “Win inside.”
He nods once.
I glance at my back. “Check release. If they bring six, you’re on.”
He taps his chest.
The corner over my other receiver presses tight.
“Blue eighty!”
Linebackers inch closer.
“Blue eighty!”
Nickel blitz showing off the edge.
There’s my play.
“Set! Hut!”
The snap hits, and the defense explodes toward us. Zero blitz.
I take a step back and plant my foot. No time for a full progression with men across the board. It’s win or lose.
Brody bursts off the line, pushing the defender’s hand away and angling hard inside before bending back across the goal line.