Page 64 of Game Face

“You think he’s prepping for the end of the world?” I joke.

I feel my mom’s gaze stick to me.

“Yeah, I do. He senses it’s coming by the energy you’re giving off. Now, spill it.”

I shake my head and flit my gaze down, feeling the sting of tears. This has all been a lot. And I don’t want to talk about the ring that is now tucked in my underwear drawer, but I do want to talk about Wyatt and how I feel as if he’s giving up and picking the wrong thing.

“There was this story inAthleticothat made it sound like they were replacing Wyatt with Bryce. And I can’t help but feel he’s giving up things for me, and I don’t know?—”

My mom punches out a hard laugh, and I roll my eyes to look at her.

“I feel guilty about it. He spends so much time going back and forth, and I know Bryce and him have worked a lot of their shit out, but you know he wants to take the starting job. Bryce is ambitious, Mom.”

She opens her mouth to respond but quickly snaps it shut, I think tempering her snap-judgement a little. She breathes in deeply through her nose, holding her mouth in a faint, closed-lip smile as her head tilts a little.

“Your dad and I, we’ve told you before why you’re our little miracle,” she begins.

I nod softly, biting my lip. I know my mom had a pretty traumatic miscarriage. They weren’t sure they’d be able to have me. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, too. About how maybe I won’t be able to have kids. And Wyatt, he deserves to be a father. He was born to be one more than he was born to play football.

“What I never told you was how I kept it all to myself when it happened. I didn’t tell your dad. I didn’t tell Grandma or Grandpa. The only one who knew was Aunt Sarah, and that’s because she was there when I lost?—”

My mom’s eyes glass over, and I reach across the center console to squeeze her forearm. She covers my hand with hers.

“I have very few regrets in life, Peyton. I believe things happen in life for a reason, and there are lessons to be learned. But that moment, it wasn’t a lesson. I made a choice. A really bad choice. I swallowed my trauma and let it break my heart over and over again without asking for help from the one person who cared the most. Instead of asking questions, I made assumptions. I pushed him away when, really, all he wanted was to be there for me. To be with me. And I regret that I missed out on his support. I could have used it.”

I hold my mom’s stare for a beat, her message pretty clear. I keep swearing to myself that I’m not pushing Wyatt away, but really—I am. Not forcefully, but subtly. A little at a time. And if I’m not careful, that may be my biggest regret.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Idon’t want to call my mom. When she gave me her ring, the one my dad gave her when he proposed, it was a pretty emotional moment. It was over the summer, and I was telling her about my plan to ask Peyton to move in with me, and then the conversation sort of rolled into future plans and me proposing soon.

She gave me the ring to hold on to for when the time was right. Well, it’s about time. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, even before Peyton’s injury. But to be honest, the last month has only made me want to ask her to be mine for life even more. I want her to have a symbol of my promise to her, to know that I’m not going anywhere. That I’m in this, with her, for it all.

And now I can’t find the fucking ring.

Anywhere.

My finger hovers over my mom’s contact info on my phone, twitching. My stomach feels sick even though I know she’ll tell me not to worry and we’ll look together. But I’ve already searched everywhere there is. I’m afraid, somehow, I’ve lost a token from my dad, something so important that, wherever it is,I’m sure it’s glowing bright. One would think that would help me find it, but nope. Nada.

“I can’t,” I mutter to myself, shoving my phone in my back pocket before grabbing my keys and heading out to my truck.

The sun is setting. My body is exhausted. Practice was killer today. We all felt it, Bryce more than me, because even though that boneheaded comment that hitAthleticowasn’t his but his father’s, Coach took it out on him all the same.

So much running.

My legs quiver as I lift my body into my truck, and I halt once I’m in my seat, hands gripping the wheel as I imagine what this is like for Peyton. This is how everything feels to her. Exhausting.

That thought wedges into my mind as I rush to Whiskey and Tasha’s apartment, hoping like hell that I somehow put that ring in something of his. We moved a lot of things last month, and I ended up giving him some of our shared appliances and electronics. Boxes got muddled. It’s possible. Not likely because I’m pretty sure I kept that ring in the watch box in my sock drawer, but since it’s not there, well . . .

I take the stairs two at a time when I get to Whiskey’s. I pound on the door, but the music is blasting on the other side. I know he’s home because I parked next to his truck, and that music? That’s not Tasha music. He’s probably dancing around in his boxers or showering with his beer, a weird thing he likes to do. He saw some dudes doing it on social media and decided to make it part of his brand, whatever that brand is. I think it’s basically loud, drunk, and obnoxious. I’m probably being judgmental, though, becausehe won’t answer the fucking door!

On a whim, I twist the handle, and when the door pushes open, I exhale, glad I won’t have to go all Chuck Norris on it and kick it down. It takes me a few seconds to come to terms with the reality on the other side, though.

Whiskey’s naked. And so is Tasha. And they are . . .connected.

“Oh, my God!” I slap both hands over my eyes, and the last thing I glimpse is my friend’s very white ass pumping into Peyton’s best friend from behind.

“Ahhh, what the hell! Wyatt, get the fuck out!” Something crashes against the open door as Tasha screams. I peel my fingers from my face as I glance down and see pieces of a remote.

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