Page 125 of The Way We Score

Liv slips her hand in my arm, looking up at me with sparkling eyes. “That was fun. I felt like a princess.”

“Good.” Lifting my chin, I kiss her forehead, happiness brewing in my chest. “Whatever you want to do, just let me know.”

“Right now I’d like to get some lunch. Baby girl is starving.”

“You’ve got it.”

“It’s beenfun playing with you again.” Ricky stands at the edge of the field in his uniform. “You know, we could’ve had something out here.”

“I already have a girlfriend, Rick.” I’m doing so well at this whole evolution thing. I really wanted to call himDickjust then.

“Yeah, I know, you’re a family man now.” He lifts his chin in the direction of Charlie’s box. “Can’t say I blame you. I did a little googling and Olivia Bankston was some hot shit when she was a dancer.”

“Yes. Still is.” Anger tightens in my throat.

He’s not as dumb as he looks, because he quickly raises both hands. “No offense—I meant it as a compliment!”

I size him up a second. If I kick his ass, I’d probably have to stay here longer or something worse, and I know Liv wants to get back to Newhope. “We’d better head out.”

As we jog onto the sidelines, I look up at her in the box beside Maddy. They both wave, and the swell of joy in my chest helps me forget about The Dick.

Instead, I think about getting her down to the field after the game. Maddy and Charlie are both in on it, and Fred is actually holding the ring for me, which I picked up this morning.

My muscles are jittery thinking about it. It’s one of the crazier things I’ve done. I hope she says yes. I hope it makes her laugh, because nothing is better than Liv’s laugh.

Charlie jogs up to me, bumping his fist on top of mine, and he looks up to blow a kiss to Maddy in the box. “She doesn’t have any idea?”

I filter through our day, shaking my head. “Not that I can tell.”

“You are one brave motherfucker. Everybody is going to be watching. Tonight’s game is on CBS.”

It’s a tough one. We’re playing Texas—Jack’s old team.

The whistle blows, and we all jog onto the field. One thing about playing the Mustangs, they’re historically great, so we’ll have to work tonight if we plan to win.

We line up, and in the seconds while we wait for the snap, Number 59, the defensive lineman across from me is already shit talking. “Thought you’d retired, 50, started having babies.”

I’ve faced this guy many times in the past. He’s a good player, about two inches taller and fifty pounds wider than I am, and I’ll be doing good to hold him in place.

“Did you cry? Did you think you’d get the sack?” I’ve never been one to back down from some good shit-talk.

“I’ll get your Johnson.”

That does it. I snort a laugh as the ball snaps, and we all charge forward. I hit him as hard as I can with my shoulder to his torso, doing my best to keep him from drilling straight through the line and sacking Charlie.

Almost as soon as it starts, the play’s over, and he pushes me back. “I thought you were tough. You hit me, and I didn’t even move.”

We’re standing face to face. “That’s right, you didn’t move.”

He didn’t, and Charlie got the pass off. We gained a few yards, but it’s not enough.

The refs blow the whistles to break it up, but we’re not really fighting. Looking up as we jog down the field, I see Liv in my jersey bouncing Paxton on her hip. He’s in a baby version of Charlie’s jersey, and Liv smiles, waving his little hand. It makes me laugh, and I blow them a two-finger kiss, which she pretends he catches.

The game feels long and short somehow. I do my best to create openings for Ricky, but the Texas D-line is a wall. At one point we snap, and neither side even moves.

“Have you lost weight?” Fifty-nine is still going. “You look like you’ve been dieting. Must be why I can’t feel you at all.”

It’s a low-scoring game, and by the third quarter, we’ve only made one field goal. Texas has scored, so they’re up by four. We’re all the way at the end zone, three yards to go, and Charlie pulls me to him.

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