When he finished, I stood up and said, “Come on, guys, I know you miss me, and…well, shit, the team isn’t complete without me, but this is going overboard, don’t you think?” There were a couple of quiet chuckles, but not enough. “I get it. I’m the fucking man. It’s hard to go on without me, but seriously, this is how we’re gonna go out? I’m a badass motherfucker, but the rest of you ain’t bad. We’re sure as shit better than how we’re playing tonight.”
More heads tilted up around the room, more fire, more passion.
“You think you’re pretty fucking special, don’t you, Edwards?” Chancey said with laughter and maybe a little admiration in his voice.
“I know I am. There’s no think about it. Just like I know you’re all fucking badasses too. We’re the Atlanta Lightning. We don’t play the way we’re playing out there tonight. I know Chancey is annoying, and Hawkins always smells bad, but—”
“Oh, hey. I got something for you,” Anson replied, flipping me off.
We all laughed.
“You guys can do this. You sure as shit can give them more competition than you’re doing so far.” I turned to Conners. “You got this, kid. I know you’re the backup, the rookie, and you got thrown in when I got hurt. But you. Can. Do. It. You’re the fucking starting quarterback in the Super Bowl your first season. You took over for me and won. Own that shit. When you’re stressed out before a play, you make eye contact with Hawkins. He has a calming way about him, but don’t tell him I said that. All he’s gotta do is give that nod he does, and you know he’s got your back and you can do anything. Just be careful because I’m pretty sure he turned me bi and I just didn’t know it until I met Jeremy.”
There were more laughs. Anson rolled his eyes but gave me a supportive smile.
“Too early for the queer jokes. Half the country already thinks you were gay for Hawkins,” Chancey said. “Though I gotta admit to feeling left out. You aren’t gay for me?”
“You know I love you,” I replied playfully. Yeah, there were some guys on the team who clearly weren’t down for teasing that way, but it was working, we were loosening up, looking like the Lightning I knew and loved. “I know you’re all worried you might lose me next season, but there’s gotta be a better way of showing it than this.”
“We were hoping to scare you away,” Raymond replied.
There was some more ribbing after that before Coach clapped me on the shoulder and we moved into strategy talk. I pulled Conners aside before it was time to go back out and gave him a few pointers before telling him, “You did good. No matter what, you came in after my injury and you brought us this far. Just a bit further to go. We’re lucky to have you on the team.”
“Thanks, man,” he replied, and damned if I didn’t feel a tightness in my chest. I would miss this, the camaraderie, if I didn’t play next year.
The Lightning were a completely different team the second half. San Francisco was scoreless, but the deficit was too much to come back from. We lost twenty-eight to thirty-five. The loss fucking hurt—seeing the other team celebrate, knowing we were better than what happened on the field earlier.
But I finally had answers. Feeling this way told me a couple of things. Before, I’d been conflicted, wanting the Lightning to win, but wanting them to need me. This loss, I hated it. I realized all I’d wanted was for them to get the W—with or without me. Second, I really wasn’t ready to walk away from football. It was still in my blood, in my bones. I’d never needed it the way Anson had, but I wanted it. I wanted one more championship, but I also needed Jeremy. If it came down to it, I’d choose him.
I’d always choose him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jeremy
Everyone was quiet after the game. You could feel the heaviness in the air around us. The team rode back to the hotel together. We’d all booked rooms where the Lightning were staying. We arrived before the team did—me with Darren’s family, West with Anson’s—and waited outside for them. Anson went straight to West when they got there, and West hugged him.
They’d lost the Super Bowl, and I had to imagine it was one of the worst feelings—to make it that far and then feel like you failed. Because that was the way they would see it. Anson, who was always nice to everyone, had been curt in the postgame interviews.
“I’m so sorry,” Jada said, making me turn away from West and Anson to see Darren approach. There was a curve to his broad shoulders that wasn’t typical for him. Darren was always this huge presence, making it almost impossible not to be happy around him, but in that moment, he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.