Page 47 of Final Down

I was just falling down the rabbit hole of acceptance that you and my mom are likely a thing.

“Let me get your mom,” Jeff says.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh. Mom. Thanks.” I swallow down the dry razorblades.

Stick to the plan, Wyatt. You need a ride from Tucson to the district office tomorrow. It’s a quick turnaround. You’ll be in and out. You’ll fill her in on everything during the drive. Everyone’s fine. I’m fine. Peyton’s fine. The baby is fine. I simply need a ride. Nothing else on my mind.

“Wyatt, what a surprise,” my mom says, her voice wavering with the guilt of a kid literally stuck inside the cookie jar.

“Are you and Jeff fucking?”

I think that went well.

Chapter Eighteen

I’ve been pacing outside the district offices for at least thirty minutes. I sent my parents inside, along with my dad’s coaching staff, who all showed up for support. I know they mean well, and the show of strength probably plays in my favor, especially when it comes from the football side, but my mind keeps wandering to the size of my audience rather than the content on my notecards. I have some major points to make, and I don’t want to get rattled.

It’s particularly hot out; August in Arizona doing its thing. I’m so sweaty, I consider swapping out my suit pants and blouse for the dress I brought as backup. The bead of sweat slowly crawling down my spine almost pushes me over the edge, but thankfully, Wyatt’s mom pulls into the lot with my husband in tow. Something about knowing he’s here helps shore up my resolve. I’m glad he came.

I hold my cards at my side, my lips moving with the words as silently I run through my opening while Wyatt and his mom walk up to me.

“How are you feeling, hon?” Wyatt’s mom gives me a quick hug.

I draw in a deep breath and let my shoulders fall with my exhale.

“I’m definitely prepared.”

She runs her palms over my shoulders, brushing away loose hairs from my deep purple jacket.

“Well, you look like a prosecutor. Go give ’em hell.”

She gently tugs my lapels, straightening my jacket before giving me a reassuring smile and glancing at her son.

“I’ll be right in,” Wyatt says, kissing his mom on the cheek before she heads into the public meeting room that is starting to reach capacity. I’m thankful I have yet to see anyone from the media. I’m sure the reporter from our local paper will tune in to watch the stream of the meeting online. That’s better than a bunch of cameras parked out front.

“How was the drive?” I ask him once we’re alone. He told me about his bold reaction when Jeff answered his mom’s phone. I figured the hour drive from Tucson would give them some much-needed time to talk.

“Well, we talked about you. The photo. Your hearing tonight. The baby. The last ultrasound. Oh, and what I think my odds are for starting the next preseason game. So, yeah. It was eventful.”His sarcasm is showing.

“You know, you could have brought it up, too. It’s not just on your mom to come forward and share her personal life.”

I give him a wry smirk as he stares at me blankly for a full breath. He looks to the right as he exhales and hunches, probably from all the valid points I just piled on his shoulders.

“It’s not like she’s been hiding things. They’ve both been out in the open about spending time together, showing up places together,beingtogether. Maybe—and now, just hear me out,but maybe—your mom simply assumed you knew and were okay with it.”

My husband blinks his focus back to me, his lips pursed.

“She’s been a widow for a long time. And honestly, if she had to catch feelings for someone, wouldn’t you want it to be a man like Jeff?”

His shoulders sag as his lips flap with a frustrated breath before relenting.

“Yes. I know you’re right. Damn it, you’realwaysright. It’s just . . . weird.” He pulls me in for a hug, and kisses the top of my head.

“Life is weird, Wyatt. It’s a series of one weird thing after another. Now, put on your big-boy pants and go sit with your mom while I practice a speech about why it’s okay to be affectionate with my husband.”

His chest rumbles with his chuckle.

“Fair enough. And hey, pencil in some time to beaffectionatelater tonight. I fly out in the morning.”

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