Page 82 of Play the Last Card

Something deep, deep inside me pressures me to turn and watch but I resist.

Separate.

I need to keep my Scott and that Scott separate.

Instead, I watch Pops as he watches the game. His eyes light up and heooo’sandahh’sat whatever is happening on the screen.

I hear the commentators call out a third down and Pops quietly speaks, so low that I’m not sure he realizes he’s talking out loud. “He reminds me of Matty.”

Tension races through me and I stiffen.

“He’s good,” Pops continues, his eyes following the play on the screen. “He’s really good. The way he communicates with his O-line. So in-tune with each other. For a new QB to be so aligned with them already takes some major commitment to getting to know his boys. It’s admirable.”

“Mmm,” I hum in return, pulling the cards closer and in a stack to shuffle them. I guess UNO is done for the day.

“The way he throws, how he hangs in the back of the pocket and can slow down the play when he wants. He reminds me of your dad. He used to be able to do that. He used to say that his O-line were his best assets as a player and because he trusted them so deeply, he had more control over the ball.” Pops hasn’t taken his eyes off the screen as he continues to talk. “Scott seems to have it too. Takes a lot of trust in the O-line to protect him like that.”

Tears sting at the back of my eyes and I hold back the request for Pops to stop talking about my dad because the guilt in my stomach roars to life to remind me that he was his son. Finally, I turn towards the TV andmy eyes immediately land on Scott, holding the ball above his shoulder, ready to throw.

His eyes are scanning the field, they find something and he releases the ball. It sails right into the hands of the tight end standing in the end zone.

The camera’s cut back to live coverage and I realize it was a replay of the touchdown. God, I forgot how slow this game can be. The TV screen fills with Scott’s face as they focus in and the world around me quiets down as he smiles, laughing with the player next to him. Flynn Reed, the tight end that made the touchdown.

They’re laughing about something. Both sweat covered already.

Scott looks happier than I have ever seen him, truly in his element.

If I hadn’t turned around, I wouldn’t have seen it.

Pops sighs and I move to sit in the chair next to him. He reaches over, holding out his palm and I take it, wrapping my fingers around his as we settle in to watch the game.

“I miss it, you know. Nearly every day.”

“Playing or watching?” I ask, ignoring the pain in my chest.

“Both,” he whispers. “You know, I haven’t been to a game since you were about six.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. My heart hammers and I prepare myself because I know what’s coming. Ever since the conversation we had after his emergency surgery, I’ve been waiting for it.

“Will you take me to one last game, Ivy? Before I die.” I meet his gaze and tears spring to my eyes again. For the first time in a long time, I see the aged lines and the tired eyes. I see pale skin and uneven breaths. I face the facts and I nod. I agree because even though I know it will break my heart, I can’t bring myself to break my pops’ any longer.

“Sure, Pops.”

Chapter Seventeen

Scott

I’ve started to thinkabout my life in two ways.

There’s everything that came before Ivy and then everything that’s come after.

Before her I was a football focused, broody son of a bitch with resentment toward a whole damn city and no idea what would come next. Now, I'm still a football focused, broody son of a bitch but then I get to come home.

To her.

I come home to her and the world spins and the sun shines again and for the first time in my damn life, I feel like there’s something for me beyond football.

The last four weeks, since I came clean and we decided to give it a go even if it had to be on the down low, have been the happiest of my damn life.

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