Page 95 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“Be careful Elara, we can’t keep this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s expensive Bub. We can’t afford this.”

“Leo said you’d tell me that. He said to tell you to read that note.” She points to a small envelope sitting on the console, and I pick it up, my breathing labored.

Sunnyis scrawled across it in messy handwriting. Opening it, I find a letter written on printer paper.

I know you’re going to hate this, and I know you’re going to want to bring it back. But I’m thankful for everything you’ve been doing for me and feel terrible that you’re stuck with me. I want you to be comfortable, and I think you deserve these things. Please consider keeping them.

Leo

I sit there for a few minutes longer, no thoughts flowing through my brain as I feel the leather under my fingertips. Is this for an article? Is there something going on that I need to know about?

Taking out my phone, I shoot him a text.

Did you get in trouble again? Do I need to tell anyone about this?

His response is almost immediate.

Pretty Boy

What do you mean?

Leo this car. I can’t accept it.

We can talk about it tomorrow night, Sunny.

I leave it alone, deciding to let myself stew for a bit before ripping his head off.

28

LEO

There’s a million different things I shouldn’t be worried about during a football game, and what Briar Crosby thinks of me is at the top of the list.

I’m just grateful the rest of my damn team has also lost the ability to play today, too.

Stepping back, I examine the field as Cooper runs deep, cutting up the center at the same time as Crosby begins running toward him. I throw the ball at the same time as a linebacker grabs at my waist, and I watch the ball soar as I fall.

Cooper catches it, continuing to run sideways as he passes it to Owen, who almost immediately drops it.

None of us have been having a good game.

The score is 3-24, and to say our playing has been abysmal is a huge understatement.

Our offensive line has let everyone through while our defense hasn’t stopped shit. No one can catch, and I can’t fucking throw, either.

There’s only seconds left in the game, and nopitchy pitchy woo woois going to win us this game.

The second the game is over, I’m flooded by relief andanger. Our first loss of the year, and it was an absolute embarrassment.

The locker room after the game is nearly silent as everyone decompresses. There will be finger pointing, but most of us know that we were all fucking embarrassments today and we deserve to sit in it.

I watch Crosby leave and follow after him, ready to see Briar. Terrified, but ready.

But she’s not there. Only Isla waits for us to come say hi before she leaves.

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