Page 73 of Final Down

“Sorry I’ve been a dick,” he mutters a few steps away from the lobby.

“It’s fine. I get it,” I say, letting him off the hook. Because honestly? I do get it. It’s what we do in this world. We’re hostile, resentful beings sometimes, who feel threatened and lash out. But damn, imagine if we weren’t.

I expect the surprise we’re greeted with on my family members’ faces. But Peyton shocks me when she moves toward Chance with open arms. I think it takes him off-guard, too, because he gives me a sideways glance that looks a lot like panic.

“How are you feeling?” Peyton asks as she hugs Chance. He towers over her, his arms awkwardly wrapping around her while he keeps his fingers flexed as if he’s making sure I know he’s notfullytouching her.

“Dude, you can hug my wife.”

He shakes his head and laughs.

“Yeah, I don’t know. That’s not how we are in my family. You hug my girlfriend and I’m kicking your ass.”

I chuckle and shrug.

“That’s fair.”

Reed and Chance shake hands, and I introduce him to Nolan, my mom and Jeff. Chance’s eyebrows lift a hint when his gaze pauses on Jeff’s fire shirt, a commemorative T-shirt from the last public safety football game he played in with my dad. He doesn’t remark on it, but when our eyes meet as we follow my family out into the players’ lot, he gives me a quick nod.

“Reed, you mind if Chance takes the guest room tonight? He and I are both flying out tomorrow, and you know how shitty concussion protocol is when you’re alone.”

“Sure!” Reed says without pause.

“I don’t want to put anyone out?—”

“Chance . . . trust me.” I grab his forearm, and he looks me in the eyes. “They’ve got the room.”

We pile into Reed and Nolan’s SUV when the valet pulls up, and my mom and Jeff hop into Jeff’s truck behind us. Chance is from Texas originally, so the desert isn’t exactly new to him. But Dallas isn’t like Phoenix. There are still trees and lots of green where he grew up, so when we pass through Phoenix and hit the outskirts of the Native American reservation, the sudden show of saguaros, tumbleweeds, and rolling hills of rock and dried-up washes seems to mesmerize him.

The outskirts of Coolidge is in view soon after, the new builds with master planned parks like a strange oasis in the middle ofthe desert. The retirement homes have been out here for years, along with the golf course that could use a good rain. The grass is yellowing. The remaining dairy farms come next, then the small mile-long strip through the historic downtown, including the park square that is already filled with volunteers gearing up for tonight’s festivities. The parade was this morning.

“This place looks like those Hallmark movies my mom loves,” Chance jokes as we weave through the old storefronts of downtown.

“Just wait,” I warn him, the best part yet to come.

When my mom and I moved out here, I remember the way the stretch of fields hit with the Coolidge stadium standing tall in the background. It’s even more awe-inspiring at sunset, as is the long drive that leads into the Johnson property. It’s still impressive in the bright of day, and the way Chance mutters, “Fuuuck,” as we pass through the tree-lined drive to the massive barn, horse arena, and stone-covered home pretty much says it all.

“I told ya,” I say, slapping his chest as I hop out of the SUV and take Peyton’s waiting hand.

“This was a surprise,” my wife whispers in my ear, kissing my cheek.

I meet her eyes briefly and shrug, lifting my brows.

“I couldn’t leave him there alone.”

She lifts on her toes and nuzzles her nose against mine.

“I know. That’s why I love you.”

“Chance, let me show you your room,” Nolan says, guiding my teammate into the house as his head rolls from left to right to take everything in.

I hang back with Reed while Peyton joins her mom. He puts his arm around my shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you. The way you played today. The way you’re helping that jackass punk. All of it,” he says the moment the front door shuts.

I shake with a quiet laugh.

“Thanks.”

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