Page 3 of Second Down Scrooge

Moving on. The message I want to send is that it’s time for me tomove on.

“Okay,” I sort of yelp in agreement before she leaves, surprising even myself at my outburst. She stops and looks up at me. “Okay, I’ll go out with him.”

Her lips break out into a broad smile. “That’s wonderful.”

I give her my number and tell her to have Max text me, and then I wonder what the hell I just agreed to.

Chapter 2: Austin Graham

Another Christmas I’ll Spend Alone

Four Weeks Until Christmas

“I’m sorry,” my mom says.

She’s sorry. She’s fucking sorry.

It’s yet another Christmas I’ll spend alone.

This is why I hate this holiday. Every year, I get my hopes up that things will be different. Every year, I’m disappointed when I fall into the same goddamn trap.

“It’s fine,” I lie. “I have practice on Christmas Day anyway. I have to go.”

I hang up without saying anything else. We’re not really close enough for more words anyway. This was her obligatory annual call to let me know she’s not coming to Vegas for Christmas.

I don’t particularly want to spend the holiday with my family anyway. I’ve come in second with them my entire life, and getting together with them is a reminder that even in my personal life, I’m never first to anybody.

I made it all the way to the goddamn NFL, and I get to come in second as tight end number two. Or three, depending on the day and how well Chase Morgan is executing.

When Ben Olson retired, it wasfinallymy turn. I wasfinallygoing to be the sole starting tight end for the Vegas Aces. Sure, I start games, but the Aces have traditionally run an offense that only required one on the field at a time. This was it. My shot. Fucking finally.

And then a new head coach brought in his baby brother to start over me, and I’m back to being second best.

It’s the goddamn story of my life.

You’d think the glory of getting drafted and being good enough to get a spot on the fifty-three man roster would be enough. It’s not.

I have fought tooth and nail to get where I am, and for what?

To sit out half the plays. To be a bystander. To watch someone else get to execute when I can’t. To sub in when the starter gets tired or when our team is so far ahead it won’t matter if I fuck it all up.

My competitive edge is starting to wear thin. I’ve resorted to devious tactics I’m not proud of to try to get ahead, and somehow eventhathas bitten me in the ass every damn time.

Every goddamn time.

I think it stems back to when I was five. I barely remember it, but it’s a feeling I associate with my childhood. My parents decided to divorce, and I found out on Christmas Day. They were whisper-yelling at each other in the hallway, and I heard every word.

I was their only kid. My dad left, and I don’t really know what happened to him. He just disappeared one day. My mom said he died a few years later, and my mom remarried. She had a kid with her new husband, and I was the third wheel. I was there because my mom didn’t have anywhere else to send me.

It’s why I turned to football. I found a family there—a brotherhood—a place where I fit in when it felt like I didn’t fit in with my own family.

And now she’s choosing my half-brother over me. Again. As usual. She’s going to New York for Christmas to spend time with Carson, his wife, Tamryn, and their kid.

My mom hasn’t been out to meet Mia. She’ll be a year old in a month and a half, and her grandmother hasn’t met her yet. At least her grandmother on my side hasn’t.

Her grandmother on Kelly’s side is pretty dope.

But my mom? She hasn’t been to a single game this season.

---