Page 29 of Christmas Cheer

I got this.

I want to leap for it, but I can’t. The best I can do is cut in front of the receiver and reach up to snag it as I pivot again.

It happens.

Holy fuck.

One second, I’m touching air. The next second, I’ve got the ass end of the football clenched between my fingertips and I’m pulling it into my body as I become the rabbit.

I’ve got fifteen yards of clean field before I enter the war zone. I have to hug that sideline so I fall out of bounds if I’m hit, but I can’t get hit.

I gotta go.

Gotta keep going.

Three offensive linemen run straight at me. I am so fucked. I’m at the 50 again, and it’s not fucking good enough. I duck my head, making a battering ram of myself, but it’s not going to work. We’re going to need another miracle.

I wasn’t good enough.

I can’t look away, but I hear on my side, the words growing louder as we all converge on a single point, “I came in like a wrecking ball!”

It’s not a wrecking ball, though. That’s me. The offensive linemen are taken out by a goddamn freight train.

“I fucking love you, Thad!” I scream as I launch myself over the carnage and manage to land on my feet.

With a clear path to the end zone.

There’s no victory dance when I reach it. There’s no wind left for it. I just ran a hundred yards, and this might not be the first time I’ve ever run an interception in, but holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

It’s silence for about a second, but not really. I know this. It’s my brain in overload. And then 40,000 sold out seats go fucking wild in my ear canal, everyone’s running toward me, and all I can do is scan the sidelines until I find her.

Gavin has Keira’s feet in his hands, holding her as high up in the air as his arms will reach as she screams and waves the J’ADORE ALLORE sign as hard as she can.

“That’s my girlfriend,” I giggle as our holder takes the ball from me.

He gives me a confused look, glances down at the ball, and says, “I’m sure they’ll give it back, man. Let’s just finish the game first.”

Chapter 14

Keira

It’s weird tounpack my bag just to wash everything and repack it.

It’s weirder yet to feel Evan’s eyes on me as I pace my room, going through everything one last time.

“Do you want these?” I ask, holding up a box of cheer trophies that didn’t make sense to take to Germany — most of them have ribbons I’ve already packed to take with me — but I couldn’t bring myself to throwing out, either. A lot of them aren’t even all that impressive.

None of them are as impressive as the game ball Evan got. He spent the night crowing about how the opposing team’s quarterback was the best quarterback he’s ever had.

Arrogant ass.

Who I’m going to miss.

He doesn’t look in the box. He simply adds it to the pile he’s slowly amassing. I packed most things before Christmas, so I spent the night at his place yesterday. In the morning, he drove me here to load everything up in Thad’s truck to take to the dumpster, the donation center, the shipping station, or back to his place to go with me on the plane tomorrow. This was supposed to be easy, and then I suddenly got sentimental.

I have no reason to take to this stuff to Germany, not when it’s supposed to be my new beginning as an adult letting go of everything that hurt as a child, a teenager, and a college kid, but now I don’t want to let it go. And every single time I’ve asked Evan if he wants something, he’s taken it without question.

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