“I’ll make this short,” Coach Sanders said two weeks later, typing away on his laptop before he turned to face me. He folded his hands together on top of the desk. “You’re going to play in the bowl game.”
I heaved a sigh of relief, fighting back a smile that was too strong to subdue. Just the thought of being back on the field, back under those lights, my jersey proudly sporting my name on the back… it lit me up like nothing else could.
“It’s been tough without you and Novo,” he admitted. “On all of us. Not just for the role you play in the game, but for the role you play on the team as leaders. And I know it was tough on both of you to watch us play in your absence.”
I nodded, swallowing down the knot of guilt that had permanent residence in my throat now. We’d lost both those games, and while I didn’t have a big enough head to assume those losses were because Riley and I weren’t on the field, I couldn’t stop myself from wishing I’d been in there to pull my weight, to try to secure the win.
I knew without asking that Riley felt the same.
“We all wanted the playoffs this year, but this is how football goes. Things change. Players get injured or fail their classes or…” He stopped, waving his hand to fill in the rest. “Whatever. But there’s something I want you to know.”
I sat up a little straighter.
“Zeke, you’ve got more potential than you realize, more than you give yourself credit for. I don’t know everything about you, but I know enough to guess that you don’t speak kindly to yourself in that head of yours.”
Coach gave me a pointed look, and my gaze fell to my lap, unable to meet his.
“In the past couple of weeks, you’ve shown up. You practiced like you were playing, supported your teammates at the games even when you couldn’t be in, and you’ve pulled your grades up in every single class. You rewrote that essay and, I just found out, also a full-page apology that wasn’t required of you.”
I nodded, still unable to look at him.
“You are good, Zeke. Talented. Special.” He tapped the desk with his knuckles until I met his eyes. “But you could be great. You could be so much more than you even realize. You just have to show up.” He lifted his brows. “Understand, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he said, sitting back. “I heard some nonsense that you were thinking about joining the draft.”
I opened my mouth to refute, panic zipping up my spine, but he cut me off.
“Let me just go ahead and tell you right now that’s not happening. This team needs you. And you need us.” He dared me to say something, and when I didn’t, he added, “You owe me ten laps just for thinking it.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and for some reason…
I smiled.
Maybe it was his trust in me, his belief that I could be better, or maybe it was that I hadn’t realized everything he’d so easily pointed out.
I had lifted my grades.
I had written that paper — all on my own.
And I showed up here every day — for my teammates, for my coaches, and for myself.
Pride simmered in my chest as Coach looked at his laptop again, clicking over to review tape. “Find Novo and send her in next.”
My smile plummeted, along with my stomach, but I managed to nod like I was fine and exit his office on stable legs.
The locker room was quiet, though I heard music and laughter echoing down the hall from the weight room. I checked there first, and when I came up empty, I jogged out to the field.
Riley was the only one left, the stadium eerily quiet under the gray sky sprawling out above it. There was no wind, no movement in the air, just a cold stillness that felt like a vacuum as I slowly made my way toward her.
She set a ball up in the field goal ball holder, one metal leg of it holding the top of the ball stable against the ground as she backed up to her normal spot. Two big steps back, two big steps to the left. Her fingers wiggled at her sides as her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath, and then she jogged up and kicked.
For a miss.
I paused at the forty-yard line, watching as she set another ball up only to repeat the same thing. This time she made it, but her reaction was like she’d missed again.
“Your standing foot was in good position that time,” I said, tucking my hands in the pockets of my joggers as I carefully approached her from behind. “Nice job.”
She stiffened at the sound of my voice, back going rigid and arms gluing to her sides. After a moment, she released a small breath, turning and glancing at me only briefly before she was lining up the ball again.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” I asked, and I wanted to kick myself as soon as the words left my mouth, especially when Riley gave me no response other than a look that told me she had no interest in talking to me.
I was quiet so she could make her next kick, which she missed, and I knew it was because she didn’t follow through. Her approach was inconsistent every time, and something in my gut told me it was just a bad practice day, one she needed to let go of so she could start anew tomorrow.
But she let out a frustrated growl, lining up another ball and barely getting into position before she kicked the shit out of it. It was good, but wobbly and crazy as hell.
“Riley,” I warned.
“Leave me alone, Zeke,” she said, voice calm despite how she was visibly shaking. She lined up another ball.
“Riley.”
She kicked, and the ball hit the goal post before bouncing down to the ground.
A curse flew off her lips, but before she could grab another ball, I stepped between her and the bag. “Coach wants to see you.”
She stilled at that, her eyes slowly crawling up the length of me until she met my gaze. I offered her the best version of a smile I could manage, hoping that she read through it that it was good news this time.
Hope flitted in her eyes, but it died as quickly as it was born, and she hung her hands on her hips, looking out at the end zone littered with the balls she’d kicked.
“I’ll pick them up,” I told her. “Just go.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I got it,” I insisted.
She nodded, swallowing, and then without another glance at me, she turned for the locker room.
I knew I should have turned, too. I should have gathered the balls and put them away, headed inside for a shower, watched a little tape before retreating to the dorm. I needed to study. I needed to do a homework assignment. I needed to do anything but watch Riley walk away from me.
But that was all I wanted to do.
I catalogued every curve, noted how her hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail, little strands frizzing out at the sides. I traced the back of her neck, her spine, the span of her arms where they swayed at her sides…
Until they stopped.
Riley paused ten yards away from me, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, and then she whipped around so fast I didn’t have time to grasp what was happening. She ran toward me, and though my arms begged for me to open them wide and sweep her up and away, I knew from the blood-thirsty glare in her eyes that wasn’t what she wanted.
“Why?!” she screamed when she reached me, and her fists rained down on my chest as she did. She hit me once, twice, then in sync time and time again as the same question flew from her lips. “Why?!”
I tightened my jaw, accepting every blow without trying to stop her.
“Why did you have to prove me right?” She cried, her nose flaring against the tears bulging in her eyes. Her fists slowed, though she still pressed them into my chest. Her next words were a whisper. “I wanted so desperately for you to prove me wrong.”
My bottom lip quivered, and when she peered up at me with those devastating eyes, I couldn’t fight anymore.
I pulled her into me, wrapping her in my arms against the choked sob she released when I did. She writhed, bucking against me, but I held on tight until she slowed, until she was still but for her strangled breaths.
Then, she fisted her hands in my hoodie and held on like I was her lifeline.
I expelled a shaky breath, cradling her head to my chest and squeezing her tight. I didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move other than to hold her steady as she broke in my arms. I inhaled the scent of her hair, ached as I remembered so vividly what she felt like pressed against me, what her warmth did not only to my body, but my soul.
As quickly as the moment had come, it was gone.
Riley sniffed, shoving me off her without meeting my eyes. She turned and stormed for the locker room like nothing had happened.
“Wait.”
The word was a quiet plea, one I was sure she’d ignore, but she paused a few yards away, her body stiff as she turned to face me with puffy red eyes.
“I can never take back what I did,” I said, swallowing down the nerves threatening to silence me. “It’s not the only choice I’ve made that will haunt me for as long as I breathe. But I can tell you that I never meant to hurt you, Riley. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Her nose flared, and she went to turn but stopped when I continued.
“But I also realize that doesn’t matter — because I did. I did hurt you. And what guts me more than anything is that you had to pay the consequences alongside me.”
Her expression was unreadable, but she was listening.
I took that as a miracle.
“There’s nothing I can say, nothing I can do, to make any of this better. If I could go back in time and undo that day, I would — no matter what it cost me in the end. If I could go back and never even come into your or Gavin’s life at all, I’d do it. Even if it killed me, Riley, I would do it to spare you.”
Her lip trembled, a silent tear sneaking free and rolling down her cheek.
“I don’t expect you to ever forgive me. And I don’t expect to ever have the chance to hold your heart in my hands again. But I need you to know this,” I said, stepping toward her. “You hold mine. You own mine. For now, forever, regardless of what happens next. And even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I need you to know that I love you.”
All the pain in her expression released, replaced by wide eyes of shock.
“And I believe in you,” I continued. “So… if I have to lose you, I’m prepared to do it. But I at least needed you to know that.”
I was barely able to choke the words out before my body revolted, turning from her and jogging down the field toward where the balls were without letting me look back. I couldn’t stand to have her that close without reaching for her again, couldn’t look her in the eyes after confessing that I loved her when it was far too late.
My hands trembled as I retrieved each ball, shucking them one by one into the duffel bag.
When I finally dared to look where she was standing, the space was empty now, and the field quieter than ever.
My heart sank with the realization that what I had offered wasn’t enough.
But at least she knew now. There was no room for her to ever question what we had, to ever wonder if she’d imagined it all or if it was real.
She knew.
And though my chest was hollow and aching, I could hold my head high knowing that.
