“Defer,” Troy answered.
The official’s voice echoed through the stadium. “The Coopers have chosen to defer and will receive the second-half kickoff.”
Even with our pregame commemoration, the time was exactly one p.m. as Holt kicked the football down the field. The Jaguars’ receiver signaled for a fair catch. The ball was down at the Jags’ twenty-two-yard line.
Our defense took the field.
I clenched my notebook against my chest. It was the same one I took to each practice and game, despite rarely looking at my mangled notes. By the end of the third quarter, the Coopers were up 24–9. Coach Brown saw the gaps the Jags exploited in our defense during our first meeting and closed them tight. The Jags’ only scores so far came in the form of field goals.
The cheerleaders were on the field with the game in a television time-out.
Coach Pratt’s voice came through my headphones telling Fin he was going in.
My heart leapt and sank at the same time. I knew how upset Fin was about the interception in the last game against the Jaguars and how badly he wanted to get back out on the field. I was also worried. As I told him, he was safer on the bench. And while I had complete faith in his abilities, what if he had another bad play against the same team?
Biting my lower lip, I hugged my notebook as Fin and the Coopers’ offense took the field. After a brief huddle, the offense lined up in split-back formation. Spencer snapped the ball. Fin dished a shovel pass to our fullback, Treshawn Morgan. Fin stepped back from a defensive tackle as Treshawn ran for six positive yards.
After two first downs, the Coopers were in the red zone with the ball on the Jaguars’ sixteen-yard line. Gripping my notebook, my stomach twisted and my skin prickled as the ball was snapped. Fin shuffled from foot to foot. The Jags’ defense was tight.
I gasped as Fin tucked the ball and ran wide right.
Forgetting to breathe, I watched as he bounced from one defensive player to the next. Being out of the box, he was fair game for any of those giant men.
“Slide,” I said softly.
Fin didn’t slide. Instead, he dove for the end zone with the ball in his extended hands.
Bodies piled on top of one another.
The referee watching the end zone lifted his arms.
“Touchdown, Coopers.” The Big Hurt’s voice was followed by deafening cheers.
I looked up at the jumbotron as players stood from the pile. Sucking in a breath with my heart skipping a beat, we watched Fin roll to his back. Dijon Ortiz offered him his hand, and I sighed with relief as Fin jumped up to his feet.
The crowd clapped and screamed. “Fin. Fin.”
The score was now 31–9.
I didn’t take a full breath until the final buzzer sounded. My concern wasn’t only because the Jaguars had handed us our only loss so far this regular season, but also that Tilson and Pratt kept Fin in for the remainder of the game.
I stood near the tunnel and waited as Fin spoke to sports networks out on the field. When he came in my direction, I grinned. “You played well, Graham.”
His blue orbs sparkled. “Thank you, Ms. Hubbard.”
Entering the upstairs family suite I looked around. Leigh, Hayden, Lip, Chris, Uncle Darin, and Aunt Rachel were present. Royce Beasley wasn’t always present in the suite. Today, he and his wife were sitting near the firepit. As Leigh had requested for our home games, the buffet was still available, and Brent was behind the bar. It had been a month since Daphne and Joe Eads’ announcement about contesting Dad’s will. Yet here we were, the Hubbards and Marshes, in our familiar environment.
“Fin played great,” Leigh said, greeting me.
“I’m so relieved.”
“He’s a good quarterback, Vee.”
“Oh, I know that. He’s been upset since he passed an interception in week twelve. He’ll be easier to live with now.”
Leigh tilted her head to the side. “Are you two living together?”
Warmth climbed up from my neck to my cheeks. “Not officially. I mean, he still has an apartment.” I wiggled my shoulders. “He just doesn’t stay there often.”
