Page 76 of Single Dad Dilemma
Palming the ball, I held it up for everyone to see. “Leadership is born in games like this. And when you see it happen, it’s fucking incredible.” Guys nodded and murmured in agreement. “I’ve got one game ball today, and even though I don’t need to say why, I’m going to.” I swallowed and turned to the other side of the room, seeking out the face I was looking for. “Get up here, Carson.”
The team erupted as the backup quarterback made his way from the back of the room to the front, a few shoving him good-naturedly as he passed by. His eyes met mine, and his chest expanded on a deep breath. It was his first game ball.
“There’s no playoff run for us this year. We knew that by halftime.” I took a moment, allowing that to sink in. Two games in our division hadn’t gone our way, the last wild card spot slipping past us through no fault of our own. “In the end, we had nothing at stake in this game. Nothing except our pride. Nothing except the need to prove ourselves. This season challenged every single one of us, but I think you and I had the most to prove today, didn’t we?” I asked him.
He lifted his chin. “Yes, sir.”
“You played your game today, Carson. Messy and tough and incredible.” I handed him the ball. “Three hundred and seventy-two passing yards. Four passing touchdowns and a rushing touchdown. No interceptions, and the gutsiest performance I’ve seen under center in a long fucking time.”
His jaw clenched, cheeks still bright red from the game, and he took the ball from my outstretched hand. “Thank you, Coach. I, uh, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get one of these.”
The guys around us laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You got one today, and that’s what matters.”
There was dried blood on the bridge of his nose, streaks of green on his arm, and, if I had to guess, the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his thigh from when he got rocked late in the fourth. Goose bumps popped on my arms as he turned, looking at the rest of the team.
“Everyone said we’d lose,” he said quietly. “When I left the house today, my wife said, ‘Just don’t get your ass kicked, okay?’” Everyone laughed. “But we didn’t lose. We proved that we can win when it matters.” He paused, eyes searching out the players all around the room, and I saw the moment his gaze landed on Archer, who was leaning against the wall and watching with a conflicted look on his face. “If this is the only game ball I ever get ... this is the best fucking win in my entire career.”
He put his hand in the middle and met my gaze. I set my hand on top of his.
“All in,” I said evenly.
Everyone crowded in, hands overlapping hands, and I nodded at Carson.
“Grit on three,” he yelled.
When the team broke apart, I let out a deep exhale, feeling the weight of another season passing. It would never get easier, but moments like this sure as hell made it worth it.
I hugged a few of the guys as I walked through the jubilant crowd, making space to allow them their celebration. When I pulled away fromJustice, Archer was standing in front of me, arms crossed. The only reason he’d suited up was in case Carson got injured, but he’d spent the entire game on the sidelines, wearing a headset and watching film on the tablets with his offense when they were off the field.
He didn’t speak at first, probably because he was holding his jaw so tight, words physically couldn’t escape. I lifted my chin, angling it toward a slightly quieter part of the locker room.
The bruise on his jaw was still visible, and I had plenty of time to study it while he tried to work up the courage to look me square in the eye.
“I didn’t think you’d actually bench me,” he said, finally pulling his gaze up. “I thought ... I thought you’d text me this morning. Tell me to get ready to start because you wanted to win.”
“Ididwant to win. Coaches always do.” I set my hands on my hips and shook my head. “It gave me no pleasure to do it, Archer. And I promise, if we’d lost—and lost badly—I’d be in Pearl’s office right now getting my ass chewed.”
He nodded. “What about next season?” he asked.
“I don’t know if I can answer that right now.”
I refused to let him look away. There was no saving Archer. He wasn’t my brother, who I used to swoop in and save when he pulled something stupid, hoping to spare us both the embarrassment of him getting kicked off the team. And in the end, my brother had saved himself.
“Show me, Archer. Show me how bad you want this and that you’re willing to work for it, because I have a guy whoisif you’re not. He’s a good guy too. Team respects him. So do the coaches.”
Archer’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down at the ground, suitably humbled. “I know. I can’t ... I can’t hate him, even if I want to.” When he looked back up, there was a fire in his eyes again. “But I hate sitting on that bench.”
“Then make it right.”
Archer’s throat worked on a swallow. “What if I can’t? What if ... what if I did peak in college and I can’t be what this team needs?”
I set my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You can. Take the offseason and figure out what that looks like to you, okay?”
Eventually, he nodded. As he walked away, I rubbed the back of my neck and let out a deep sigh.
The door to the locker room opened, and Bridget poked her head in. “Is it child appropriate?”
“I think so.” I looked over my shoulder. “Kids incoming!” I yelled. “Keep it clean, guys.”
