Page 66 of Fighting Fate

But this is Milli. My Mills.

Without much hesitation, I find myself typing a message.

Okay, no judgment—it's just going to help me feel better knowing she's alright.

Then it hits me—wouldn't Luke have mentioned if something was wrong? But he doesn't know Milli is tutoring me, so I can't just casually ask about her. I don't want to stir up unnecessary drama.

I imagine Luke's confused face, him wondering, "Why does she have your assignment?" That would lead to a whole conversation I'm not eager to have, with him possibly launching into his usual spiel about the NFL and education.

Opting against a text, I decide to call her instead.

After a few rings, her voice, sweet and familiar, fills the air, instantly setting my heart racing. "Sunshine, is this going to be a regular thing?" she teases about our calls.

I laugh. "You bet. Got a problem with that?"

Her laughter echoes mine. "Not at all, if you don't."

"I don't," I reply quickly.

"Good, me neither," she says, her tone soft and almost shy.

As we talk, my phone vibrates. I switch Milli to speaker and glance at the incoming text. A wave of unease washes over me; it's from my dad.

Dad

Hey son, just checking in. Ready for Panthers' Day?

Is he forgetting about our upcoming game, or is he more focused on the Panthers' game and the scouts it'll draw?

I let out a sigh, the weight of expectations heavy on my shoulders. I quickly text back, affirming I'm prepared, all while listening to Milli describe her dance practice with the Hanmann sisters.

Dad

Great. Lots of scouts will be there.

I roll my eyes slightly. I've been aware of the scouts' presence for some time. My focus is on the here and now, not just impressing scouts but also winning for our team and school. Still, his reminder adds to the pressure I'm already feeling.

"How was practice today?" Milli interrupts my train of thought.

I spill about the day's grind, guiding my trio of clowns, which cracks her up, knowing the kind of grief they toss my way.

Dad

We should set up some one-on-one time with scouts after the game. What do you think?

Miles

Sounds like a plan, Dad.

I respond quickly, a bit mechanically, recalling how often we've had this conversation.

12 YEARS AGO

"Okay, champ," my dad assured me, squatting down to meet me at eye level. "Coach Denton will be at your tryout." He looked straight into my eyes, making sure I was paying attention. "Remember everything you learned at football practice today," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice, emphasizing the importance of the skills I'd been practicing.

Like I could ever forget. It had been etched into my brain for as long as I could remember. My dad had been eagerly anticipating this day ever since I achieved remission. I went through all those medical evaluations, endured over two months of constant monitoring, had a team of professionals—doctor, nurse, and physical therapist—keeping a close eye on me. They wanted to make sure I was physically, mentally, and emotionally prepared for this moment.

Was I ready? Yeah, I suppose I was. I mean, it was what my dad left the NFL for, you know? There was no point in dwelling on it; I just needed to go out there, give it everything I had, and show him that he made the right call by giving up his career for me.

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