Page 55 of Never Say Never

By the time the teams return to the field for the third quarter, my heart is in my stomach. I watch him with his head down make his way to the sidelines but as he gets there he stops suddenly and looks up, searching the crowd until his eyes lock on mine for a moment. I resist the urge to wave, but I hope he can see in my eyes how completely I believe in him. Tucker has worked so hard to get here today. I suck in a breath and silently pray for things to go his way tonight.

My prayer seems to be answered, because by some sort of a miracle, a quick pick six gets us back in the game and after a field goal conversion we’ve narrowed the Vikings’ lead to 7.

The Outlaws have come to life in the second part of this game, and the crowd senses it. I can barely hear myself think through the thunderous cheering and stomping of feet when within minutes left in the game, the Outlaws back up the Vikings to their own two-yard line. Our star defensive end blows by the left tackle and sacks their quarterback, Ubels, in the Vikings end zone.

Safety! The stadium goes wild. The Vikings look stunned.

The Outlaws get the ball back, and we’re down five with a little over one minute to go.

“We can’t lose.” I reach for Addy’s hand holding it in mine.

“It’s not over yet,” she says, her eyes glued to the field. “We still have time.”

When my eyes flicker up to the scoreboard, my heart slams against my chest. We are losing. Tuck is losing. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive these next few minutes.

My gaze drifts to Tucker, who pulls his headset down around the back of his neck as Jesse whispers something in his ear before Austin Davies takes his position, hands ready to receive the ball. Our center snaps the football into Davies’ hands, and he takes three steps back, searching the field for a receiver.

Davies launches the ball up high and it spirals perfectly until it lands safely into the hands of number 68.

The crowd erupts. There isn’t anyone in their seat.

Dallas, the Outlaws’ star wide receiver, bolts down the field, his arm hugging the ball close to his side as he weaves through players looking to take him down. He keeps going, every step taking him closer to the end zone, until he’s finally brutally tackled to the turf.

My gaze rips to the scoreboard. It’s first and ten, the ball is at the 19-yard line.

I watch Tucker huddle with Jesse. Then he calls a timeout with only six seconds left to go, the Outlaws still down by five.

Addy holds my hand a little tighter. I look down our row and see the anxiety I feel reflected in everyone’s faces. My mom rubs her palms together like she can barely stand it. Even Uncle Mark is on his feet, hands on his hips, completely dialed in.

“They’ve got this. I know they do,” Briar says, her hands on either side of her face.

I hope she’s right. I can barely breathe, silently saying a prayer for Tucker. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.

“This is too much,” I say quietly, my hands covering my face. “Shit. Come on. You’ve got this. Let’s go.”

As soon as the timeout runs out, all eyes are on Davies who is lined up in the shotgun but my eyes are glued to Tucker. My heart rate spikes. The man stands on the sideline, a look of steely confidence on his face. He’s here to win whatever the cost.

The Outlaws aren’t giving up. The ball is snapped into Davies’ hands. The crowd erupts. Time ticks down, second by second, and then his right arm rips back looking for a pocket. When he sees a window, he fires the rock with precision, sending it high toward the end zone where number 48 catches it before being tackled to the ground. And as hard as he was taken down, he gets right back up with the ball in his hands.

Touchdown.

I scream, jumping up and down with Addy and Briar, who wrap their arms around me in a bruising hug. My parents and Tucker’s family are jumping up and down as confetti rains down over us. Even Uncle Mark is cheering now, the look of pride on his face unmistakable.

Tucker throws his fist in the air in victory before being bear hugged by Jesse, then they’re both swarmed by coaching staff and players. The entire stadium goes haywire as fireworks go off in the sky, streamers shooting from canons onto the field.

The Outlaws win.

Tucker did it.

He won the Division 2 national championship game.

I watch on with a smile as a giant container of Gatorade is lifted and poured over Tucker’s head. He must be cold as hell, but he doesn’t show it. He just smiles and laughs, taking it like the champion he is.

Through the celebrating, Tucker’s eyes scan the crowd until they find mine, and the smile on his face says it all. He lifts his chin just a notch, dragging his hand through his wet hair before putting his hat on backwards, and my breath catches in mythroat. Every cell in my body vibrates and there are tears in my eyes as I mouth the words,you did it.

I didit, he mouths back, nodding. And even though it’s now freezing out, warmth blooms through my body. He grins this boyish grin in one more sweeping glance that makes me want to argue that we’re not really in a real relationship, but I remind myself that isn’t the case. But that’s where it gets confusing because even though I’m not sure what the look means, I know it feels good; specifically, the look in his eyes that has my knees turning weak.

And even though our families are right here next to me, we don’t look away from each other. I stand here anyways, breaking one of the very rules I’d insisted on in the very beginning.

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