Like what he said to me on the phone the last time we spoke. I don’t know if we’ll ever come back from that.
The more time that passes, the more I’m not sure if I want to come back from it. Maybe we’re just done.
For good.
Three
Eli
We stand in a line on the field on the home side with our helmets off and our attention focused on dead center of the fifty-yard line, where our coaches are currently standing, our head coach singing the praises of Asher Davis to the crowd, even though he didn’t actually coach him during his time here. Drew Callahan stands next to him, tall and proud as he surveys the sold-out stadium. Only a few minutes ago, he offered up a short speech that was full of praise for Ash, and I can’t help but wonder if he has any nice things to say about me.
Probably not.
The crowd is cheering like they can’t help themselves, even though Coach is talking, and I wonder what that’s like, to have the adoration of so many damn people.
This crowd likes me, but I haven’t fully proven myself to them yet, though I’m trying my hardest. I’m having a decent season so far, but I don’t want to get too confident. Last season was a shit show of embarrassment. I still can’t believe how badly I played.
This season, I’m on top of it. More focused. Angrier when I get on the field, determined not to lose.
Coach thinks the anger is fueling me, and he keeps asking me what the hell I’m so pissed off over, but then he tells me he doesn’t want to know. He just wants me mad for the whole season.
What the fuck ever. I’m just trying to get through each game in one piece. I can’t afford to lose. This is my last year on this team. I want to go out in a blaze of glory. I’m not going to break records or win awards or even get picked up by a professional team, but damn it, I’m going to bring our team victory as many times as I can, as much as I can control it.
If I don’t, I’ll feel like a total failure, and I can’t have that. I’ve failed enough these last three years with the team.
I need to end my college football career on an all-time high.
“…and now everyone, please put your hands together for the NFL’s reigning Super Bowl champion quarterback and former Fresno State Bulldog, Asher Davis!” the MC announces.
The crowd goes wild, the sound of people cheering and screaming deafening. The rest of the team and I clap politely, a couple of the guys cupping their hands around their mouths and shouting their support. One of them is Caleb.
Of course. That guy can’t keep his mouth shut.
My gaze settles on the center of the field, where the entire Callahan clan is heading toward the fifty-yard line, Ash leading the way with Autumn right by his side. She’s gazing up at him as if he created the world and he’s beaming at the crowd, lifting his arm in greeting. The moment he waves, the crowd roars louder, and Autumn throws her head back and laughs.
You’d think seeing her would remind me of Ava, which she is does. But only in passing. The two sisters don’t look much alike. Ava is taller. Thinner. More flat-chested and blonde to Autumn’s brunette. Both pretty, but to me…
Ava is beautiful.
I brace myself, catching a glimpse of blonde hair. The swing of a blue skirt. She’s in a dress. Of course she is. They’re all dolled up in honor of good ol’ Ash. Beck is in between Ava and their mom, towering over the rest of them, gazing around the stadium with an awestruck look on his face.
I miss that kid.
When Ava finally comes into view, I’m not prepared for the avalanche of emotion that slams into me. She looks the same.
Yet different.
Wearing a dark blue, short-sleeved dress that cinches in at her waist, the ruffled hem flaring mid-thigh. Her skin is golden, remnants of spending plenty of time in the sun over the summer. Her hair falls down her back in subtle waves, and when I finally allow myself to study her face, I can tell she’s nervous.
r /> My heart bubbles in my chest, like it wants to escape. It’s reassuring, seeing that she’s nervous.
I’m fucking nervous too.
Why, I don’t know. Not like I’m going to talk to her tonight. Not like I’m going to have a conversation with her family either. They hate me, I’m sure of it. Even Beck probably does. Thank God Jake isn’t here tonight. He’d probably try to smash my face in.
An agitated growl leaves me and Tony, who’s standing next to me, does a double-take.
“You look ready to chew through steel,” he mutters.