Page 80 of Game Changer
My first instinct is to rush back to campus and tackle Ethan with kisses, but honestly? I didn’t get to spend any time with my parents on my last visit, and now that things have been patched up between us, I want to bask in the comfort of home, even if it’s only for a few days. I’ve grown homesick being away from here for so long.
I’m confident a little more time apart won’t change the connection Ethan and I share.
“Yeah, I’ll stay for a few days and head back this weekend.”
His smile grows wider just as Mamí stands and walks to the kitchen. “I don’t have to work until tomorrow night, so why don’t I make us some hot chocolate? You can tell me more about Ethan.”
“Only if you tell me more about you and Papí. It’s so romantic.”
Papí laughs from the bedroom. “I was a thief who didn’t deserve her time of day. Istilldon’t.”
“¡Silencio!”Mamí scolds him with a laugh.
I sit at the tiny kitchen table, allowing the warmth from the stove to feed the mushy sensation flooding my chest. I expected coming here tonight to result in another screaming match, but when Mamí passes me a steaming mug of hot chocolate and we stay up late telling each other how we both fell in love, I’m eternally grateful it didn’t.
I fought for what I wanted, and it paid off. Now, nothing stands in the way of Ethan and me being together. If he’ll still have me, that is. The world’s worst blizzard could hit the town of Wickenburg this weekend, and without having to think twice, I’d be the idiot driving through it to get to him.
Because sometimes the girl has to chase the guy, and I’m totally all right with that.
Forty- two
Ethan
“Looks like it’s about to pour any minute.” Mark squints at the ominous sky overlooking the field. Thick, dark clouds swirl above us and cast the bleachers in shadow. “I hope the game finishes before.” He holds a clipboard to his chest as the ref whistles a time-out.
It’s the fourth quarter, another close game. With only forty-five seconds left on the clock, we’re up by a single touchdown; so as long as the Stingrays don’t get close enough for a field goal, we’ll win. But the ball is in their possession and it’s third down, so it’s on the defense to make this final stop.
Jake looks as white as a ghost.
Mark rambles on about the play he suggests we run, but my gaze is fixed on Jake. He’s rubbing his palm against his heaving chest, squeezing his eyes shut tight. The kid is about to have an anxiety attack on the field. Not that I can blame him. The pressure is a lot, especially since we’ll advance to sectionals if we win this game.
“Jake. Come over here.” I jerk my chin away from the rest of the team, watching as he runs over on shaky limbs. Mark nods in understanding after he takes one look at the poor kid’s face, then returns to the remainder of the kids to coach them through the play. “What’s going on, man? Talk to me.”
“I can’t do it,” he says breathily. “What if I can’t stop him? I haven’t been able to nail the play once.”
I arch a brow. “That’s not what I was told. I heard you got your first sack last game.”
“Yeah, but it was a lucky play. I haven’t been able to do it since.” His eyes dart to the field, a new shade of pale washing over him. “I’m sorry,” he stutters. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t be so nervous about this.”
My chest squeezes when I put a hand on his shoulder. “You have no reason to be sorry. You’re anxious about performing your best, and that’s understandable. It would be weird if youweren’tworried. It means you care.”
“I just don’t want to let anyone down.”
“Let anyone down? Let me tell you, kid, at some point in your football career, it’s bound to happen. You won’t always be the best player on the field, but that’s what being part of ateamis for. I believe you can do this, and Mark and Ronnie do too. But winorlose, we’ll have your back. There’s no need to feel pressure, all right? My only expectation is that you go out there and try your best because you love the game. You shouldn’t be playing for any other reason.”
The ref blows the whistle, signaling the end of the time-out, and with bated breath, I wait to see what Jake will decide to do. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the football moms on the sidelines are already packing up their gear, ready to make a run for it if it starts raining.
“All right,” he says with a decisive nod. He bounces from toe to toe, and I smack his helmet and signal for him to get on the field, pride surging through every chamber of my heart. “Thanks, Coach.”
Before I can correct him, he jogs toward his teammates, while the new title reverberates deep in my chest like a seed waiting to blossom. A whistle falls around my neck, and it isn’t until now that I realize Ronnie was behind us and overheard our entire conversation. “I know I said I’d wait for you to accept the position, but tough shit. Welcome to the team.”
I clench the whistle tightly, unable to come up with a rebuttal when it feels so right.Assistant Coach. God, the smile on my face is cheesy as hell.
“Thanks, Ronnie,” I say when Mark approaches my side. My friend punches me on the shoulder, and although it’s meant to be joking, it causes me to wince. “Jesus,” I hiss, rubbing the sore spot. “I don’t think you understand how freakishly strong you are.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “Or you’re just weak.”
Our laughter fades when the play starts. The opposing team hikes the ball, and their quarterback looks around for someone to throw it to. The tight end, wide receivers, running back. . . . Our team is doing a damn good job at blocking, but my eyes remain glued on Jake, who drops his shoulder low and shoves the offensive lineman with enough brute force to send him flying backward.
