Page 12 of Final Down

His T-shirt is soaked with sweat, and his cheeks and forehead are red. Thirty minutes going hard is a lot for him, so I snag the half-filled gallon of water I left on the bench and hand it to him. He wastes no time peeling the cap off and chugging about half of it down.

“I’d better hit the showers, too. I’m supposed to talk to the state athletic board in an hour about easing up sponsorship rules for high school sports. If I show up like this, I doubt they’ll let me in the room.”

He hands me back my gallon, then leans into Peyton, kissing her cheek and giving me a wink before heading up the hill to the locker room.

“He’s gonna need two showers after that. Your dad put me through it this morning. I think he’s in better shape now than when he won his last Super Bowl.”

I ignore the invisible weight that showed up on my shoulders the second Peyton arrived. It’s only grown heavier now that we’re alone. I knew we’d have to have this conversation, that I would have to tell her I want to try to do this thing. I just figured I’d be able to work up to it in my head, maybe couple it with a nice dinner—and a foot rub.

“How mad do you think he’s gonna be when you break his Super Bowl passing record?” Peyton says, instantly drawing my eyes to her.

I blink, a little dumbfounded and not quite certain I heard her right. She simply tilts her head to the side, pursing her lips as she gazes at me with a knowing smirk.

“I haven’t decided yet. Not completely anyhow,” I say, though I’m ninety percent there. Maybe ninety-eight percent. I don’t want to make this decision on my own, though. It’s not just me in this life. We’re a team for everything, forever, from the moment I met her until I die. And that includes the act of entering into pro football contracts.

“You know, I had you pegged as a quarterback the second you walked into Jack’s.” Her lips pucker slightly into that sassy smile she puts on when she’s feeling confident.

“You did, huh?” I hold her gaze, tilting my head to match hers.

Peyton’s never told me this, and a part of me wonders if she’s making it up. I don’t care if she is. I like it when she looks at me like I’ve got something special. And right now? She’s eying me as if I’m some famous movie star she used to keep pictures of pinned to her wall. Five years of marriage, she still acts like, of the two of us, I’m not the lucky one.

My gaze drops to the ground, and I kick at a worn spot on the turf. That’s part of Reed’s sponsorship discussion today—he wants to replace the turf for Coolidge High and Vista. But he’s tired of footing the entire bill himself.

“Come here,” I say, moving to the bench.

I sit down and hold my arms out, inviting Peyton to sit on my lap. She loops her hands together behind my neck and sits on my left thigh. She’s the epitome of a country girl, her cut-off denim shorts that, now that I look closer, were once a pair of my jeans. She’s still wearing her work boots from the arena, and her hair is pulled up into one of those messy buns she wears when the temperature starts to climb. There’s a pink smudge on the center of her T-shirt, and I nod at it.

“It’s a long story, but basically, Ellie has the coolest big sister in the world. That’s me, by the way. I’m the cool big sister.” She waggles her head with play bravado, and I chuckle before kissing the tip of her nose.

“You’re the coolest lots of things.”

She shrugs, pulling her mouth into a tight smile.

“I know.”

I hold her gaze for a few quiet seconds, long enough that her cheeks blush. I love that I can still make that happen.

“And why are you here now?” I lead.

Her mouth closes into a soft smile.

“You want this,” she says.

I squeeze her and nip at her ear.

“I mean, I always want this, but?—”

She laughingly pushes my chest, her palm flat over my heart, arm stiff, holding me away enough to meet her gaze. I know what she means. I want to go for it, take Bryce’s offer, see where it goes.

I nod.

“I know I shouldn’t, but yeah . . . I do.”

Peyton shakes her head.

“Uh uh. Don’t do that. There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” she scolds.

I pull my mouth in tight, still feeling guilty despite her insistence.

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