So close.
They are so close to scoring that I feel like I’m going to be physically sick.
I lean a little more forward as Zach sets up for the next play. When he’s got the ball, he takes a step back and scans the field. The defenders are right there, so he throws the ball just as he gets sacked.
The box draws a breath, following the ball as it spirals into the air, past the defense and straight into Reese’s hands.
Touchdown!
Touchdown? Did he—did Zach just win this?
Zach’s mom yells, pulling his dad into a hug.
Tiff’s crying, Ella’s singing, and Jamie is hugging them both.
They won.
They really won.
All because of him. He fucking did it.
Tears well in my eyes as I watch the team celebrate below by piling on top of Reese. The stadium is erupting in cheers, and the box is so loud that you’d think we’d just secured a place in the playoffs.
I don’t join in because I’m too focused on the field in front of me, trying to find his number in the mix of all the players.
“He did it, Honey!” Tiff’s voice and her grabbing my shoulders to face her is the only thing that draws me out of my trance. “He did it.”
A shaky laugh breaks out of me as I nod quickly, wiping under my eyes before the tears can actually fall.
“I know,” I whisper, looking back toward the field immediately. “I know.”
My eyes stay locked on the field, searching for him through the chaos of celebrating players.
God, I want to hug him so badly it physically hurts.
That’s when I see it.
3.
“Wait,” I say, stepping closer to the glass to get a better view.
While the rest of his team are doing some funky coordinated dance with the other team members, number 3 is sitting on the turf at the five-yard line with his helmet still on and his hand in his lap.
Zach.
A team doctor jogs onto the field and crouches next to him.
Shit.
“I need to go down there,” I say instinctively.
The words leave my mouth before my brain catches up enough to remind me that this is an NFL stadium, not a high school football game where I can just hop a fence and run to him.
“You can use my field pass,” Zach’s mom says, holding the lanyard out toward me.
I stare down at it for a second before looking back at her with hesitation.
“The fastest way down there now is through the stands,” his dad adds.
