Page 38 of Final Down

“Oh. Awesome surprise, Ma! I’m so glad you got to be here for it.” I remind myself that the heavy pats he leaves on my back during our hug are genuine and full of love even if lately, he seems to be spending an awful lot of time with my mom. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Your dad is smiling up there today, Wy. He’s proud of you. We all are.”

His words level my chest with an unexpected blow, and my eyes tear up before I can control my emotional reaction. I sniffle and wipe under my eyes with my thumb and index finger.

“Thanks, Jeff. That means a lot.”

I move on to my mom and hold her tight while I steady my breath. I give her a chance to sniff away her tears against my chest, too. I don’t know that we’ll ever fully get over missing my dad. So many things he’s not here to see. But I like what Jeff says, that he’s watching from above. I hope that’s the case. I’d like to believe in it, in something good . . . for him. If ever there was a human who deserved a heaven waiting for him, it was Todd Stone.

“I’m so proud of you,” my mom says, tugging at the center of my button-down shirt. Like college, we dress for the media after a game. I did most of my interviews in my jersey without my pads, but the longer interviews were done in what I call my “big boy clothes.”

Peyton, however, calls them something else. Rather, she sort of growls when I dress in slacks with a shirt and tie. It’s fair to say we both have our versions of the red dress. Mine just comes in grays and black.

The room suddenly bursts with a new level of energy as Chase enters with his friends, along with a few extra media outlets who have been following him around like trained dogs. I get that he’s an interesting story—a number-one draft pick that the country can’t wait to see on the field. And the fact he didn’t play tonight just feeds the frenzy. But the dude is going to burn out if he keeps up this pace of attention. Eventually, someone’s going to catch him in a foul mood, or worse, doing something stupid. And that fall from grace hurts.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I say as I sling my arm around Peyton. She grins up at me like when we were in high school, and I can’t help but feel the flutters in my chest. My girl. Always my girl.

We all pile out of the lobby and wait one by one for our rides. Reed’s truck comes along first, and my mom, Jeff, and Nolan pile in as Reed takes the keys from the valet and tips what looks like two hundred bucks.Fuck, man . . . I hope I’m doing that well one day.

“Tell Peyt I’ll swing by the hotel in the morning and get her for the ride back,” Reed says, and I nod.

Teams rarely get to spend the night after an away game, but we were the prime-time game tonight, and things ran long, especially for a preseason game. We knew there would be extra media, too, given that Portland’s the new kid on the block. It’s almost eleven, and half of us are still here.

The black SUV with tinted windows finally pulls into the player lot, and I wave to get the driver clearance from the gate guard. He drives around the loop, stopping in front of Peyton and me. The driver opens his door, but I quickly hold up a hand.

“Save your steps, buddy. I got it,” I say, figuring the least I can do is be a good passenger since this cat isn’t getting a two-hundred-buck tip out of me. He’ll get a solid forty for now.

I open the back door and take Peyton’s hand, helping her step from the curb into the vehicle. I slide into the seat beside her.

“You at the Lux with the rest of the team, sir?”

Sir. I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks . . .” I lean forward to read his name on the badge clipped to his rearview mirror. “Daniel.”

He smiles in the reflection.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Sir.

“I see you locking that away, baby daddy,” Peyton says in a hushed tone.

Damn it if I’m not blushing. Yeah, she caught me. I was imagining her calling meSir.I think I like it. I waggle my head.

“You know, don’t be afraid to mix it up if you’d like,” I say.

She holds my gaze for a few long seconds, slowly licking her lips before catching the bottom one with her teeth.

“Nah. I’m sticking with baby daddy,” she laughs out.

I cover my face, cringing, and I can’t verify it, but I swear I hear Daniel chuckle from the front seat.

“Fine. You call me whatever you want.”

The hotel isn’t far from the stadium, but LA traffic makes everything feel far, even at this time of night. I can see the golden logo for the hotel through the windshield, and my gaze catches Daniel’s as I lift to try to gauge how many lights we need to get through.

“You had a great game tonight, sir. If . . . if it’s okay that I say that.”

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