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I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying. Whatever it is, love balloons in my chest. It inflates as I watch him duck his head and talk to Dallas and Jett. It gets even bigger when he checks the scoreboard. It comes dangerously close to popping when he turns around, meets my gaze, and taps his heart, the spot where I know I’ll always be.
“Everything,” I answer. “He said everything.”
She takes my hand in her left and Aiden’s in her right, and we watch the next two minutes unfold. My throat burns from screaming. My fingers throb from squeezing Maggie so tight. My legs hurt from jumping up and down.
The Titans miraculously charge down the field, ten yards away from a touchdown with twelve seconds on the clock.
“Here we go,” Maggie says.
“I can’t watch.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m too scared.”
“Lacey.” She elbows my side. “You have to watch. Shawn is about to win a Super Bowl.”
“You have so much confidence,” I say. I open my eyes and watch the players get in position. They crouch down, ready to take off, and I’ve stopped breathing. “Can you see the future?”
“I wish.” Maggie laughs and steps closer to me. She tugs Aiden with her, and we’re in a small cluster. “Only one down to go. Come on, Jett,” she screams.
I glance at Aiden over Maggie’s shoulder. “Who knew she was such a sports enthusiast?”
“I’m not complaining,” he says, stars in his eyes as he looks at his other half with awe. “Can she get any more perfect?”
“Okay, knock it off, lovebirds,” I say. I grin and focus my attention on the game. “We have a Super Bowl to win.”
The whistle sounds, and the ball is snapped. Jett takes three steps back, and his eyes scan the field. A defender breaks free from the line of scrimmage and charges toward him. Jett moves left then right, faking out his foe as he takes off for the end zone.
“He’s running it,” Maggie screams again. “Holy shit.”
“Go, Jett, go,” I yell until my voice cracks.
Jett spins out of a defender’s hold and narrowly avoids being taken down. Quick footwork saves him, and he’s only eight yards away from a victory.
Seven.
Six.
He hits the five-yard mark, and his stride gets longer. He looks over his shoulder, the ball clutched tight to his chest. Finding no one but his own teammates, he crosses the goal line just as time expires.
The stadium erupts. The Titans swarm their quarterback, and a pile of players forms in the end zone. Tears blur my vision, and I see Shawn running down the sidelines and jumping in the air. He pulls off his headset and throws it, his hands raised in celebration.
“It’s not over,” Aiden bellows, and he points at the scoreboard. “We’re tied. We didn’t take the lead.”
“What?” Dread ices my blood, and I grip the railing in front of me. “What does that mean? Do we go to overtime? There’s no time on the clock.”
“No. The NFL permits an extra point kick to determine the game’s outcome, even if there’s no time left in regulation,” Aiden explains, and my knuckles turn white.
“So Dallas has to kick,” I whisper. “And he has to make it.”
“Yeah.” Aiden nods. “If he misses,thenwe go to overtime.”
My eyes find Shawn again. He has his head against Dallas’ helmet and his hands on his kicker’s shoulders. They’re leaning in close, exchanging whispered words no one else can hear.
I think I’m going to be sick.
The special teams jog onto the field. Jett and the offensive line are still celebrating, but they’re quiet now. A hush falls over the crowd as everyone waits with bated breath for Dallas’ kick.
“How many of these do you think he’s kicked in his lifetime?” Maggie whispers.
“A million, probably,” Aiden says. “He can do it with his eyes closed.”
