Page 128 of Time Out

Not that I was surprised, but Dawson was as settled as they got. Broody, especially this last month, but he’d always been settled. More morose than most but still a decent friend when needed.

“What does that mean?”

“Wants me to date if you can believe that shit. Like I don’t have women—”

“Having women and dating aren’t synonymous.”

“You’re fucking telling me. Doesn’t change the fact he told me to spend the off-season finding someone to show off on Instagram. Give people what they want—the feeling that I’m a good, kind gentleman. Can you believe that shit?”

Dawson, a gentleman, was a stretch and a half.

But he was kind. He also needed his head in the game and not on his sister or the drama she’s once again caused in her wake.

“You’ll figure it out.” I grabbed his shoulder and gave him a quick shake. “Want to know what else you need to figure out?”

His glare could set forests aflame. “What?”

“How many more yards and points I’m going to get than you tonight in our first ever Bowl win.”

“You little shit.”

At least I got him laughing as the horn blew and our entrance was announced.

Like everything else that had happened in the last month, most importantly and wildly, was preparing for Maggie’s three youngest sisters moving in with us next week with more maybe to come, we’d get through it if we leaned on each other.

Everything else was gravy, as my grandma would have said.

Holy shit. We were doing this.

Thirty seconds left, and we were only up by two, but we were still doing this. Mason jumped on my back as we hit the sidelines after he scored a touchdown to put us ahead. The entire game had been a battle. I could practically hear the announcers losing their minds. There hadn’t been a Super Bowl game like this in decades. So close that the risk of overtime was imminent.

We wouldn’t let that happen.

We’d hold them. Our defense had done a helluva job all game even if the points didn’t show it.

We’d block a field goal if necessary, but no way were we losing the momentum we had going after grabbing a punt to us on the third line and driving all the way down the field. We tore seven minutes off the lock on that last possession. Had penalties that put us at a disadvantage and then penalties that gained us a first down. Yards lost. A fumble Cole managed to recover for a gain of one.

My heart was racing so hard I might have been having a heart attack.

“We’re winning!” I flung Mason off my shoulders and slapped Dawson’s as he passed me.

“Damn good feeling,” he said and strode to the bench where he’d spent the entire game while we weren’t on the field.

I felt for the guy. I did. He’d missed out playing in our last game and now it sounded like he had cement blocks pressing down on his shoulders. He scored our first touchdown tonight and was met with boos from half the crowd instead of a stadium full of cheers.

I let him go, because no way would he listen to my pep talk and refocus on the game. The field goal was good. We were kicking off. Up by three.

Twenty-eight seconds.

Kick off.

They grabbed it at the one. Ran. Tackled at the seven.

“Yes!” I shouted and grabbed the closest player to me. Didn’t know who it was. Didn’t care, didn’t even look.

Hell was being on the sidelines as the clock ran down and trusting the rest of your team to bring the win home.

Even though I showered, I smelled like a mixture of champagne from the locker room and Gatorade dumped on the coach while I was standing close to him on the sidelines. We’d won. Celebrated on the field and we’d probably be finding confetti in unmentionable places for days to come. The celebration continued in the locker room, and once we were showered and changed and ready to find our families, more celebrations.

---