Page 113 of Catching Our Moment
But my mind was still reeling with the events of the day and the uncertainty of what would happen next. One thing I knew for sure: he didn’t need to be distracted by my neurotic, messy life. Not when his head needed to be in the game if he was going to save his career.
He stepped close to me, his backpack slung over one massive shoulder.
I decided to go with honesty. “I don’t know what to say… Thank you. For everything you keep doing for me—for us.”
“What are friends for?” he mumbled, unable to look at me as he said it.
Our relationship wasn’t going to be solved in the drop-off area at the airport.
He locked eyes with me. A soft sadness permeated the air between us. He took my hand, leaned forward, and slowly kissed my cheek. “Nothing has changed for me,” he whispered.
“I—” I love you. The words were caught in my throat. “I’ll miss you,” I said instead, and a tear I didn’t see coming snuck out from under my lashes.
He squeezed my hand and brushed his thumb over my cheek, taking the tear with him as he walked away.
45
Shaw
Super Bowl.
We made it to the Super Bowl.
Over the last few weeks, I’d put all my focus into achieving my lifelong dream. We’d made it to playoffs before, only to fall short of the actual championship.
But it was bittersweet.
While I’d been in communication with Aaron and Kelcie, they’d maintained that I needed to focus on my moment and not be bogged down with their daily lives.
Aaron was back at school, playing pick-up games with the guys in the park—even in the cold.
Things with the podcast had been sidelined until the custody agreement negotiations were over.
While James was being less aggressive, he wouldn’t allow Kelcie to take Aaron to any of the playoff games because they fell on the weekends he had him. Kelcie refused to discuss anything else pertaining to James. “I don’t want you jumping on a plane again,” she’d said when I pushed it. “If you lose focus, you’ll never forgive yourself—or me. Your very expensive lawyers and I have it handled.”
The unaddressed issue was us. What was going to happen to us?
When I brought up the idea of getting them a suite for the Super Bowl, Kelcie lost her mind when she found out what it would cost. “We’ll have a Super Bowl party in your honor,” she said.
My heart sank, knowing they weren’t going to be there. Aaron was just as upset, but I told him my first touchdown would be for him. If he saw me fist bump the air, it was for him. That was our signal.
With my nose to the ground, I reminded myself that it was just a few weeks. And if I won the Super Bowl, my career would be complete, and all my time would be devoted to figuring out how to make Kelcie mine permanently.
The noise inside the Superdome was immense—like jet fighters taking off. For players used to it, it was white noise. For a boy with ultra-sensitive hearing, it would’ve been horribly difficult. Still, I’ll admit to being disappointed that my two favorite people weren’t here to share it.
Stepping out during player introductions just made it worse. I put on my game face and focused on the task ahead. The team we were playing had better odds than us. We were the underdogs.
Our team was announced with all the flash and fanfare of a Super Bowl, and the wave of cheering hit me as I ran out of the tunnel and onto the field. I made a beeline to the sidelines, where some players were staring up at the Jumbotron. Davy’s face was lit up as if we’d already won. “Looks like someone brought your fan club.” He pointed up at the screen.
And there she was, with my jersey on, jumping up and down with a smile that could light up this entire stadium, and waving around a cardboard sign. “I LOVE YOU!”
My eyes were burning, and my cheeks hurt. I was grinning so hard—like a fool. A fool in love.
Guys patted my back as they walked by, but I was frozen, staring at that screen until they panned out and showed the rest of the suite—Kelcie, Aaron, Dylan, Grace, Aliya, Maeve. I even caught a glimpse of the back of Wyatt on the screen. Kelcie flipped her poster around, and it said, “Go kick some A$$!” The camera panned away—probably concerned about the censors.
“Come on, head in the game, Romeo,” Darius, the quarterback, said, slapping my helmet as he ran onto the field for the coin toss.
I couldn’t stop smiling long enough to form a comeback.
