Page 13 of Final Down

“The timing isn’t ideal,” I say.

Peyton’s soft laugh makes her wiggle in my lap, which also isn’t ideal—nothereanyhow.

“Wyatt, the ideal timing was about six years ago. But there’s nothing we can do about that.”

She’s right. But also, maybe not completely, because I’m not sure how I would have handled leaving her right after saying ourI do’s.It would have been hard then, as newlyweds, to navigate setting up our new life together in two different places. If she had moved to another city with me, she wouldn’t have been as happy. At least, I don’t think so. I’ve seen the strength being home, having her family around, has given her throughout her recovery. And the Arizona weather doesn’t hurt when rain and cold are hard on her nerves and joints.

Peyton moves from my lap, walking backward a few steps on the turf until she’s standing on the hashmark in front of me. She pulls the tie from her hair and gathers it into a tighter ponytailbefore tucking her T-shirt into her shorts—aka my former pants. I’m about to tease her and ask what she’s up to when she smirks and launches into a back flip that ends with her feet flat on the ground and in nearly the same place they started.

“Ha! It’s so cool you can still do that,” I say, watching her with wonder as she winks and holds up a finger.

Turning around, she leans forward until she’s in a handstand, and she walks toward the center of the field on her palms. Her legs wobble in the air, the right one always struggling a little more than the left to help her find her balance. She possesses greater strength and muscle control than most normal humans, but it’s still not up to her standards. It probably won’t ever be completely. But it doesn’t stop her from trying.

She bends back until her feet land on the ground again, and she rubs her temples while squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Head rush?” I ask.

“Ohhhhh yeah.” She laughs, taking slow shuffled steps back in my direction. I open my arms and pull her back to my lap the second she’s close enough, and it takes her a few seconds to get her focus right. When she does, there’s nothing clearer than the warm, golden brown of her eyes locked on mine.

“If I could do it again, be on a squad, fly through the air? I would do it in a heartbeat, Wyatt. I wouldn’t even flinch. I’m not scared of falling. I’m not afraid of someone slipping. And in my head, I can still do all of it. But in reality, I can’t. And there isn’t really a place for that. ESPN isn’t streaming women approaching thirty hitting the mat to tumble.”

She laughs softly at her joke, but there’s a touch of melancholy in the sound, the way it trails off, and her mouth fights to keep her slight smile in place. She never got to finish her senior year of competition, and that’s something she’ll never get back. This opportunity I’m being given is as much hers as it is mine, at least vicariously.

“I guess we’re going to Portland?” My stomach drops like it does on those thrill rides Peyton likes so much.

Peyton’s smirk widens, and her forehead lands on mine as her cool hands press into my cheeks.

“We’re going to Portland.”

The words are out there now. Peyton’s called it, and when she decides for us, it sticks. I just hope like hell I don’t disappoint her. I was never nervous about the game before, but this is different. I’m not coming at this from the top. Hell, I’m not even coming at it from the same field as the other guys. I’m coming out of the woods, under-prepared and unsure of myself. If I’m going to make the most out of this—forus—I need to get my ass in shape.

“I guess I gotta call Bryce back, huh?”

She nods, then presses her lips to mine.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says against my mouth.

I chuckle.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” I say, sucking her top lip in and holding on to it for a beat. I don’t want to fail her. She deserves for me to be the man she thinks I can be. It’s a high standard; one set by a goddamned legend. But I know Reed’s story. He didn’t exactly start from the top, and he didn’t always stay there.

“You’ve done a lot more than you think, Wyatt Stone. A lot more,” she says, holding my stare for several quiet seconds. Her focus shifts from my left eye to my right, and I sense the weight in her words, the meaning behind them. She thinks I sacrificed for her. But I would do it again in a heartbeat. This life with Peyton? I wouldn’t change a thing.

Chapter Six

“This is weird.”

I’m glad Wyatt said that out loud because I’ve been thinking it for days now, ever since we found out Bryce would be picking us up at the airport and essentially escorting us everywhere for the next four days. I’m not sure how the universe worked out this life for all of us, but the fact Bryce is always here for these pivotal moments in our lives seems like some sort of omen. I’m just not sure whether it’s good or bad yet. It’s a sign of change to come. It always is.

“There he is!”

Bryce is holding up a whiteboard that reads “Wyatt Stone” in black marker. Bryce’s exuberance, coupled with the sheer size of him, Wyatt, and Whiskey, has drawn a lot of attention our way. A young woman sitting in the arrivals area has her phone out, and she’s clearly filming us.

I wonder if she recognizes Wyatt. Is he recognizable? He will be, if this works out.

My first boyfriend and my husband hug, and I shake my head, still not used to the sight.

“Fucking weird,” Tasha breathes out at my side.

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