Greek (Palm South University)

I surrender to sleep the second he’s gone.

And somewhere in that strange state of not quite sleeping but not quite awake, I swear I can hear my phone buzzing on the kitchen counter down the hall.

“GO, GO, GO!” ERIN screams beside me, jumping up and down like a wild animal, and now that she’s stripped off her beanie, her dark blonde hair is flying everywhere — including right in my face. She nearly steps on my toes before I grab her waist to hold her steady, laughing when she turns to face me with wide eyes. “What?”

“I love that you’re excited,” I tell her. “Just… watch for other people’s feet. And faces.”

She smiles — and God, the sight knocks my next breath from my chest. It’s not a small smile or a soft, reserved one. It’s full on, eyes crinkled, teeth dazzling and lips spread smiling.

My happy Erin.

How I’ve missed her.

She whips around again in time to see my little brother get tackled to the ground about five yards from the end zone, and she throws her hands up in victory, jumping up and down again before crushing me in a hug.

“He’s amazing!” she says, stripping her scarf off. “And so tall and massive. He’s going to kill it when he gets to college. I’m sure he’ll have the ladies all over him, too.” She pauses, then starts unzipping her jacket. “Do you think he’ll go pro?!”

I laugh, stopping her before she can remove the puffy Patagonia. “Hey, don’t take off too many layers. You’re warm now because you’re jumping around, but I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“I love this,” she says breathlessly as the team lines up for the next play. “Football, cold weather, hot chocolate, fire pits, pumpkin everything… this is fall.”

“I don’t know how you do it in Florida,” Mom chimes in from next to her, shaking her head. “Still eighty degrees in November? No, thank you.”

“Ninety when we left for the airport,” Erin corrects her.

“Maybe you’ll end up here one day,” Mom says, and I don’t miss the mischievous look in her eyes when she says it. I also don’t miss how bright her smile is, how full her cheeks are, how healthy and happy she looks compared to the woman who’d run off my freshman year of college.

Whatever happened in Mexico, it seems to have set her right. And I’m thankful, at least, Clayton gets to see this side of her, gets to grow up with a mom who’s present and working and sober.

“Real subtle there, Mom,” I tease.

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m just saying, Erin has only been here two days and she’s fallen in love already.”

“It’s true. I mean, how could I not? Just driving through that tunnel, being in the country one second and then bam,” Erin says, illustrating with her hands splaying wide like a panorama. “A whole city!” She looks at me and shrugs. “Who knows where life will take us after I graduate.”

My heart flips in my stomach at the thought, at the way she’s watching me, at the fact that she sees me in the picture after graduation, sees a future where we might possibly move to my home city.

The ball is snapped on the field, and we all turn in time to watch the quarterback throw a perfect spiral to Clayton, giving him the touchdown he almost had on the play before.

We go wild, along with the rest of the stadium, and Erin jumps into my arms, pressing a celebration kiss to my lips that makes me wish for my little brother to get at least a dozen more touchdowns just like that one.

After the game — which we win by a landslide — we all go to our favorite family-owned sports bar for a late-night dinner. Clayton might as well be a celebrity for how many people want to shake his hand or take a picture with him or get his autograph when we walk through the door. He gets interrupted the whole time we’re there, but I don’t mind at all.

I’m so fucking proud of him, my chest is the size of a hot air balloon.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he teases, his voice a deep baritone I’m not used to. He’s grown up so fast, in the blink of an eye it seems, and that stubborn, cocky teenage attitude I had is settling in on him just the same. He’s got longer hair now, dreaded and styled, and when a few girls walk by giggling, I laugh at the lazy-eyed smile he gives them.

If Palm South thought I was trouble…

“Like I’m proud of you?” I shrug. “No can do, little brother. Going to have to get used to it.”

Clayton throws a French fry at me.

“Did you see the scouts?” Mom asks him, eating a sweet potato tot from her own plate. “This is the third game that one from Alabama has been to.”