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I want to be waited on by her. I want to help her take out her hair. I want her to take up my space. I want to compete, knowing she will never allow me to win. I need to look up at those stands and see her.

I want it all with her and only her. There is no one else for me.

“I do. I would do anything for her.”

He pulls me into a tight hug. “Then, win this game and bring our girl home.”

16

Caleb

We are down four points in the fourth quarter. But I know we will get this touchdown and come out on top.

I glance at the time. There are three minutes left. Three minutes until I leave this stadium and get my girl back and tell her that my fear of being alone, being without her, took the reins and drove me to a delusion where I thought we could just be friends. As if I could watch her with another man while I’m standing on the sidelines.

No. Being on the bench is not in my nature. I’m going to tell her all of this after this game.

I got three more minutes until I can breathe again.

“White 42, White 42! Set! Hut! Hut!” Trevor yells, then receives the ball from the center and hands it off to me. As I tuck the ball away, going full speed ahead, I cut right, gaining two yards.

Just as I am crossing the thirty-yard mark, my body crashes to the ground as a player tackles me from my left side.

I hit the ground hard, feeling pain explode in my knee. This is a pain I have not felt since college. For that game, I was ready to call it quits until JJ talked me off the edge. She knew just what to say to get me back onto the field.

But I know when I look at those stands right now, she won’t be there.

My breath comes quickly as I try to work through the pain that is not going away. The player pushes off me and walks away, leaving me to figure out how I’m going to play the rest of the game. I muscle up the strength to limp off the field to save my team our only time out. My substitute runs past me onto the field as my coach, and the medics approach me.

“Caleb, what’s your pain on a scale from one to ten?” a medic asks me.

“Fucking 15,” I grunt, squeezing my eye shut.

The medic shakes their head. “We need to get him to the back and ice this knee.”

“Shit,” my coach mutters. “Take care of him.”

They carry me off the field and into the locker room, where they settle me in with an ice pack and elevate my leg.

One of the staff walks in, holding a phone in their hand. “There’s a call for you.”

Who could possibly be calling right now, and why the hell did they think I want to talk to them?

I take the phone. “Hello?” I say, not knowing who is on the other side of the line.

“What the fuck are you doing?” a female voice admonishes on the other side of the line.

My eyes widen with pure shock. “JJ?”

“No, it’s Beyonce—Yes, it’s JJ. Answer my question, why aren’t you on the field?”

“JJ, I’m sorry. I—”

“Cross, there’s no time to talk about us. Your team needs you. Trevor is the best quarterback and can probably finish this game off. But the team’s best chance is with you out there too.”

“I need you, JJ,” I reply desperately.

She sighs. “Cross. No matter how much we fuss and fight, we always find our way back to each other. This time, I just needed more time to myself. I was hurt. I am hurt. But right now, isn’t about us. It’s about you and the people who depend on you.”