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“I’d rather cut them off,” she chirps back, wrapping a blanket around her entire body. “Aren’t you cold?” she asks, glancing back.
“Nope. This is perfect football weather,” he replies. Logan’s wearing a pair of jeans, his work boots, and a brown winter Carhartt jacket with the lumberyard logo across the breast.
“Nothing about this is perfect. Football should be June through August,” she states through chattering teeth, curling the blanket around her neck.
“Brody appreciates you coming to support him,” I add.
My friend looks my way with a soft smile on her face. “I wouldn’t miss this night for him. What did you bring?” she asks, glancing down at the bag between my legs.
“Ava made it for me,” I tell her, referring to another friend, who is one of the craftiest ladies I know.
“Oh my goodness, that’s so cool,” she says when I pull the ball from the bag. She made me a treat bouquet with all of Brody’s favorites sticking out of the top of a football used as a vase.
“She did such a great job, and she refused to take any additional money for her time.” I bought all the goodies and Ava put it together for me, doing a much better job than I could have done.
“Of course she did,” Hallie replies as Gabe and Blair head our way.
First thing I notice is the drink carrier in Blair’s hands, steam billowing from the lids. “We come bringing warmth,” she announces as Gabe places a blanket down on the bleachers. “I brought one for each of you,” she adds, handing over a gourmet hot chocolate from Molly’s.
“Does mine have bourbon in it?” Logan quips, taking one of the offered insulated cups.
“No, but it does have salted caramel in it,” she replies as she hands the last cup to Gabe. She sits down beside him and he wraps the blanket around her legs and back, cocooning them together.
It makes me miss TD, wishing we were sharing body heat beneath my blanket, and my eyes instantly seek him out. He’s standing on the sidelines, talking to the quarterback before the coin toss. As if feeling my eyes on him, he looks my way and gives me a smile that suddenly warms my entire body from head to toe. There’s a promise written on those lips, one that lets me know he’ll be using them later tonight when we’re alone.
“He is so smitten,” Hallie sings beside me.
“No one says smitten anymore,” Logan chastises.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t come back with an equally pointed jab. “You two are the cutest ever.”
“I agree,” Blair says, still curled up into Gabe’s side.
We all turn our attention to the field, as TD, Brody, and the other captains walk toward the center for the coin toss. I try to take in every moment, knowing this is his big night and possibly his final home game of his high school football career. The stands are packed as the Panthers prepare to receive the ball to start the game.
By the time we’re nearing the end of the first half, my voice is hoarse from cheering and I’m a little numb from the cold, but our team is up fourteen to seven. “Would the parents of the senior football players, cheerleaders, and band members please make your way to the west end of the bleachers for senior night recognitions.”
I reach for the bag at my feet. “That’s my cue,” I say, standing up and leaving my blanket on my seat. The chill seeps through my clothes and causes goosebumps. “Do you think it would be bad if I took my blanket?” I ask with a chuckle, not entirely kidding.
“No one would say a word,” Hallie assures me, and even though I consider taking it, I opt to leave it behind.
I make my way down the bleachers and toward the west end, along with other parents of Brody’s classmates. I look around, finding moms and dads all huddled together, and a wave of sadness washes over me. It’s not the first time I’ve wished Brody’s father was part of his life, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. Nights like tonight are the times I resent his absence. Not because I wasn’t capable of taking care of him by myself all these years, but simply because Brody was cheated. He should have both parents standing with him, supporting him during his final home game. There should be two people telling him how proud we are of him, not just me.
The buzzer sounds, startling me and signaling the end of the half. Mr. Wilken, the athletic director, gets parents lined up in alphabetical order by sport as we await our kids to join us for the introductions. When they start heading our way, I spot Brody immediately and smile the moment he grins at me.
As he takes off his helmet and joins me at my side, he pulls me into a hug. “Did you see my catch to start the second quarter? It was a little overthrown, but I was able to reel it in.”
“It was an amazing catch,” I confirm proudly.
“What’s that?” he asks, pointing down at the goodies in my hand.
“It’s a treat bouquet,” I tell him as the line starts to move forward. The cheerleaders are introduced first, followed by the members of the marching band.
“It’s all of my favorites,” he realizes before hugging me a second time. I have to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. My emotions are already choking me, but now that he keeps showing his appreciation with hugs, he has me on the verge of a total meltdown.
“Brody Daniels, son of Ellie Daniels,” the announcer calls, and even though I hear the words, my legs don’t seem to want to cooperate. My heart is so happy and proud, yet I also know this chapter of life is coming to an end.
“It’s all right, Mom. I’ve got you,” he whispers, offering me his arm and gently leading me out onto the track. Suddenly, the support I’m offering my child on his possible final home game does a one-eighty, and he’s the one assisting me. I suppose that says a lot about our relationship. We’ve held each other up and kept each other moving for the last seventeen years, whether he realizes it or not.
