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Fourth quarter.Sixty seconds on the clock. I watched from a distance as our field goal team set up. Our kicker, Darius, let out a slow breath as the long snapper hiked the ball back to the holder. He was locked in, kicking the hell of the ball, sending it careening through the middle of the uprights from forty yards.
Darius closed the deficit, tying us with Tampa. The field goal unit swapped out, and our defense lined up as they prepared for the kick.
By the time the offense got on the field, we were down to ten seconds.
I looked at Seth as I walked to my place on the line of scrimmage. He was standing at the edge of the field, hunched over with his hands braced on his knees, watching with rapt anticipation as we prepared for the final drive.
We braced on the line, ready to run. The play had been decided. It was now or never. Our center prepared to snap the ball back to Gideon. Gid looked down the line at me, then to his left at Theo.
He popped his mouthguard out, grinned, and called an audible.
My man was fucking insane.
Theo looked down at me, processing the play Gideon wanted to run. I clapped my hands together. I had ten seconds to make it down to the right corner of the end zone. Our linemen had one job: protect Gideon. If he was going to throw that Hail Mary, he needed space to get his body right.
I closed my eyes and felt the breeze against my skin. It was pulling left. Not strong enough to change the ball’s direction in the air, but enough to stall the trajectory if it whipped up.
I had given this season my all, and it had given me twice as much.
My brothers. My Little Bird.
I imagined her standing in the end zone, wearing her Ladies in Red Uniform, with the sun shining on her pearlescent curls as she danced.
Some goals couldn’t be quantified in points. She was mine.
“White-eighty.” The call from Gideon faded away as the center snapped the ball.
I took off.
Jerseys blurred, and pads and helmets clattered. My cleats dug into the field, flinging grass and dirt behind me as I dug into the last vestiges of energy to get me to the five-yard line. A Reds jersey leaped in front of me, crossing my path to block a lineman and clearing my way. I weaved, ducking a tackle, and ran harder.
Oxygen released from my body as I jumped at the five-yard, stretching up as high as my momentum would take me. The ball slammed in my grip, and I cradled it against my chest, landing just shy of the last hash mark. I scrambled to my feet and ran into the end zone as the clock hit zero.
Rhode Island Red Cocks win by six.
Confetti exploded as the refs called the end of the game. I stayed on the ground, covered by a pile of teammates, as screams from the stands became deafening.
One-by-one, they rolled off as league lackeys flooded the field to pass out t-shirts with the Red Cocks logo on them. Champions. Reporters jockeyed for position, each trying to get a sentence out of Gideon and me. Gideon grabbed the back of my jersey and hauled me through the melee.
“What?” I choked out when I finally caught my breath. All around, the field was absolute mayhem.
Gideon pointed to the posse running across the fifty-yard line. Sam and Gideon’s agent, Raúl, were escorting Heidi and Wren through the chaos. Gideon let go of me and ran, sweeping Heidi into his arms and spinning her around.
Wren sidestepped a cluster of reporters and ran to me, leaping and wrapping her arms and legs around me.
“You caught me,” she said with a laugh. There was more light in her eyes today than I had ever seen.
“I told you,” I said before kissing her hard. Camera shutters clicked around us. “It’s what I do.”
Wren sandwiched my cheeks between her hands. “I’m so proud of you, Tay.” She smashed her lips to mine. “So proud. I can’t believe it! That last play!”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I set Wren on her feet, then decided I had to keep my hands on her waist, or she’d bounce away with all the energy radiating off her. “What are you doing here, Little Bird?” The irony wasn’t lost on me. It was exactly what I said to her when I tackled her during the preseason. “Why aren’t you in New York?”
Wren reached in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I flew in last night and helped Heidi make her posters.” She unfolded the sheet and handed it to me. “I was going to make you one, too, but I figured this was better.”
I took it from her and read the first few lines aloud. “Dear Ms. James. Please accept this letter as a formal notice of my resignation from my position as a senior designer at Colette James Design. I would like to thank you for the opportunity to learn under your expertise over the years I have been with the firm, as well as the opportunity to manage the new branch in New York City. I wish you and the firm all the best.”
I couldn’t read another word. “You quit.”
