Page 27 of Final Down

I lean forward and rest my chin on my fist to take one more hard look at the number on top of the contract—$840,000.

“I pulled in more with my last year of NIL deals,” I laugh out.

“Fuck, Wy.Ipulled in more,” Bryce adds.

“Did you know I didn’t want to play football at first? Back when I was a kid.”

My confession makes Bryce sit back, and his brow draws in tight.

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “My dad signed me up for this league, and I wasn’t very good right away, and that frustrated me. But he made me promise to give it a year.One year, son, and if you still don’t like it, we’ll find something else.”

Bryce smirks at my imitation of my father’s voice. My mom says I sound like him now that I’m grown. I like that I do.

“Looks like you changed your mind on the game,” Bryce says.

I nod.

“By the fourth game, I was the starting quarterback. I mean, it was pee wee ball, so it’s not like I was throwing long passes or anything like that. But I got to be in charge. I got to yell out plays that meant nothing. You know how it was when we were kids; we pretended we were the guys on TV.”

“Ha, yeah,” Bryce agrees, nodding as he smiles.

“That year changed everything,” I recall. “I practiced every day in the front yard, throwing the ball with my dad. He’d get up early with me before school on the days he wasn’t on shift just to let me get some reps in. By the time the season was up, I won most-improved player. My dad said it should have been MVP.”

I chew at the inside of my mouth while I live in my memories for a moment. I can almost feel the blast of air from my dad’s truck vents as he drove me home from the end-of-season pizza party. He glued that trophy to his dashboard, he was so proud.

“What a difference a year makes,” I mumble, not fully aware my thoughts are out loud until Bryce responds.

“One year,” he says.

Our eyes lock, and my upper lip twitches as my belly stirs with that long-lost fire. It’s not about the money. It’s about the disrespect.

I pull the contract toward me and grab the pen, clicking it against the table, then scratching my name across the signature line before tossing the pen and paper toward Bryce.

“I do one year, and then you get me the deal I’m worth.”

Bryce stands immediately, rolling the contract up in one hand and reaching across the table to me with the other. I get to my feet, and we shake once.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah,” he says, before marching out of the room and down the hallway to Jerry’s office. I sit in the quiet of the conference room for a few extra seconds, long enough to hearJerry shout the same words Bryce did as he left, then I grab my phone from the table and call my wife on my way to the elevator.

“Well?” That’s her greeting.

“One year,” I say.

The line is silent at first, and my stomach tightens. I’m tougher when she’s in my corner. I need her with me on this. I need her strength and stubborn will.

“One year,” she finally echoes.

“One.”

“Hmm,” she sounds like she’s pondering. “And then they pay you millions,” she finally adds.

My mouth inches up as I step into the elevator and imagine the hardball look on her face. She doesn’t have to say it for me to know that she might even push for half of my salary to be instantly donated to her mom’s charity.

“See you in two minutes.” I end our call and hold my breath for the short elevator ride, breaking into a jog when I pass by Janice, the sweet red-headed woman with twins at UofA.

“That looks like a good-news jog to me,” Janice hollers after me. I spin around and give her a thumbs up. She’s Jerry’s secretary, and reminds me so much of my mom. Speaking of my mom, I have to call her next. She’s going to worry that I’m settling, but she’s also going to scream with joy. She’s always wanted to see me set foot on a pro field. And what this all means for my dad is probably the biggest positive to come out of the deal. I know he’s watching this play out, and I feel his hands on my shoulders as he tells me to give those doubters hell.

Our rental Escalade is idling as I step into the player lot, and I can tell by the way Peyton’s hair is blowing in every which direction that she’s got the air on full blast. I startle her when I yank open the driver’s side door, but she quickly pounces on the center console, holding herself up with her palms as her body lurches toward me for a kiss. I cup her cheeks and cover hermouth with mine, and it feels as though time stops. I live in the bliss as long as I can before, eventually, we both need to breathe.

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