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I should have told her to go to hell and make her listen. Convince her to be with me so we could find a way to make this work. No, it wouldn’t be easy, and we both had a lot of shit going on, but we could make it work. I knew we could. Forher,I’d find a way to make it work.
Because having Rebecca in any way, shape, or form was better than not having her in my life.
I didn’t realize how much I missed her that first time around. Maybe it was the way we ended things then. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I fucking miss her. And when I don’t see her or talk to her, it’s like I can’t breathe.
I was done with this bullshit.
As soon as I’m done here, I’ll get in my car and go back home to talk some sense into her.
Home.
Because to me, there was only one home, and that was Rebecca Allison Williams.
She was my home. My safe haven. Mine.
The quarterback calls the play, snapping me out of my thoughts. Gregory moves past me, and I curse under my breath as I run after him. The wide receiver catches the ball on my left, but Big J is on his heels, and more of my teammates follow suit. The guy looks around for an opening, but he must sense Big J coming. He throws the ball at the very last second before Big J takes him down.
My heart stops as I watch the ball fly through the air, almost in slow motion. Since the guy was in the hurry, the throw lacked force. I start running toward the ball, jumping to catch it beforeanybody else. My feet touch the ground, and I start sprinting toward the end zone, the ball tightly clutched to my chest.
No slowing down.
No looking back.
No wavering.
The cheers spread through the crowd as I run into the end zone, and my teammates come rushing toward me.
“That’s what I was talking about,” Walker says as we bump our fists together.
We take a moment to celebrate the touchdown before the offense takes the field. Time seems to slow down as they play, conquering yard by yard in a synchronized dance we’ve been working on until the ball finally lands in the end zone. One field goal later, and Lonestars had another win under their belt.
The whole team gets out on the field to celebrate and shake hands with our opponents before going back toward the locker room. My mind already coming up with a plan on how to get to Bluebonnet as soon as possible.
“Fernandez!” Coach barks, stopping me in my tracks.
Shit.
Slowly, I turn around to face the older man. “Yes, Coach?”
“Field interview.”
Shit.
I so didn’t need to deal with this shit on top of everything else, but I knew better than to object.
“Yes, Coach.”
I move toward the press box by the sidelines, and one reporter spots me immediately.
“Fernandez, can we have a word?” the guy asks eagerly. I’ve seen him a few times before, even did an interview with him last season. So I nod, ready to get this over with.
“Sure thing.”
The guy gives a signal to his cameraman before plastering on a big-ass smile as he rants his introduction before shifting his attention to me.
“We have Miguel Fernandez here with us tonight. Congrats on your win. It was an intense game. How are you feeling?”
“Like you said, it was an intense game. Rams are a good team, but we had more luck tonight.”
