Page 107 of The Way We Touch

Coach hands us our asses at halftime, but it doesn’t do much to improve our game. Our tight end runs the ball in for a score, and the kicker gets the extra point. We get a field goal in the third quarter, but in the final minutes, we’re still 10-13, with the Challengers leading by three.

Every time I look at the box, Dylan has her hands clasped in front of her mouth, and she and Maddy are on their feet, glued side by side in the window. Seeing her there is everything. It’s more than any trophy, more than all the cheers when we score. I’ll win this one for her.

It’s the final play of the game, and I glance up at her one more time. She holds up her fingers, and I give her a nod. We break the huddle and Garrett leans in as we hustle down to the lineup.

“They’re putting a lot of pressure on me, but I’ve found my guy’s weakness. Keep your eyes open.” I nod, and we take our positions.

The guys chatter in the line, but I hear Garrett’s growl above them all. “Let’s do this!”

My entire body is tense, and at the snap, I keep my eyes on my friend. Garrett barrels forward with a loud yell, and sure enough, he breaks through. He takes down a guy two inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier than he is.

As soon as I see the opening, I dig in and zip through it at top speed. I’m flying to the red zone. The field is clear ahead of me, and I turn to look back at Johnson. He’s waiting, watching, and our eyes lock when he sees I’m open.

Whipping back his arm, he fires the ball to me, and I dig in harder. Intuitively, I calculate the speed of the pass and where I need to be to complete it. It’s a perfect spiral, and this is it. I’m right where I need to be.

A flush of satisfaction unfurls in my chest. Not only are we going to win this game, it’s going to be a career-making play for me.

This one will be on instant replay all week long, and it’s going to be so sweet.

I’m at the height of my career. I’ve got my girl, she’s here with me. I’ve made it to the top of the mountain. Everything I want is in my hands. The ball arcs down, flying straight to me as if guided by a string. Reaching up, it’s mine.

Just as I catch it, as it lands in my fingers, I lift my eyes to see Dylan’s face. Her hands are fisted, and she holds them to her cheeks as if she’ll hide. It makes me smile. No fear, baby, I’m winning this.

My feet touch the ground. All that’s left is to run it in for the score, when BAM!

I spin around and everything goes dark.

Voices drift through the haze. They’re speaking low and urgent, and I try to understand what they’re saying as I open my eyes. The white room blinds me initially. I’m in a hospital bed, and I’m surrounded by softly beeping monitors.

My first instinct is to sit up, but as soon as I try, large hands grip my shoulders, forcing me down again.

“Hold it right there, Murph,” a deep male voice scolds, and I squeeze my eyes as I try to focus, to see what’s happening. “Glad to see you’re back with us.”

I’m so weak. I try to move again, but when I look down, a flash of dread hits my stomach. My leg is wrapped around a brace, and I can’t bend my knee.

“What happened?” My throat is scratchy, and now the large, dark hand holds a straw to my lips.

My nurse places his other hand on my shoulder to help me lean forward. “It was fucked-up, man. That corner is out for the season, and looks like…”

He stops abruptly, but I know what he was going to say. I know what a knee injury means.

“Looks like I am, too.” An ache moves through my chest.

It’s over.

His lips press into a grim line. “Let me get your people in here. They’ve been waiting to see you.”

He goes to the door, and I lean back in the bed, driving my fingers into my hair. Sickness is in my stomach, and when I breathe, my lungs feel like they’re lined with tiny shards of glass.

“Logan?” Dylan’s soft voice fills the room, and I do my best to sit up again. “You’re awake.”

“Hey.” It’s a weak greeting, but seeing her eases the pain a little.

“Wait, let me help you.” She takes the control from beside the bed and presses the button, raising the back to a sitting position. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” I’m sitting up now, and I can see the swelling around my knee. “I don’t remember what happened.”

She slides her fingers through mine. “It was awful, a hip-drop tackle. You suffered a mild concussion, and your knee…”

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