Page 36 of Fair Catch
“She should be,” Dad retorted with a shrug. “It was an embarrassment.”
My nose flared, and I had to look at the ground and dig my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from popping off at my father. It wouldn’t do me any good, nor would he actually listen to me.
It was his way or the highway. He was right and everyone else was just yet to see it if they didn’t already agree with him.
“Honestly, I don’t know how she made it to this level,” Dad continued when Mom and I stayed silent. “I love the girl, you both know that. But this is football. I mean, you and Gavin started when you were three years old. She really expected to come in as a high schooler and be successful?”
“She got the same scholarship I did,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but… not for the same reasons.”
My teeth clenched so tightly I saw stars. “You know she played with us growing up, too, right? She was in the yard with us every day, kicking and passing and catching just like us.”
Dad arched a brow. “If you can’t see by her performance today that—”
Mom elbowed him, her eyes brightening as she looked somewhere behind me. I turned to find Gavin wheeling his chair toward us across the parking lot, a timid grin on his face.
“Gavin!” Mom bent to wrap him in a hug as soon as he joined us, and Dad reached out to shake his hand. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! How is everything?”
“Peachy as always, Mrs. Collins,” Gavin answered, but his eyes were wary as he tipped a chin at me. “Hey, I know you’re probably beat from the game but… can I talk to you a sec?”
“Of course.” I turned back to my parents, and before I could even excuse myself, Dad waved me off.
“We need to get running, anyway. Shop opens early — even on Sunday.” He winked at me with a wide smile that told me that was something he was proud of, that he worked seven days a week. “You get some sleep, too, okay? No partying. You don’t get to party after a loss.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And send me some videos from drills this week. I want to see what they’re having you run,” he added.
“Yes, sir,” I said again, but I knew already that wouldn’t be happening. Not only because Coach would be pissed if I let my parents override anything he was doing, but because I wasn’t about to pull a Kyle Robbins and film myself.
With a kiss on Mom’s cheek and another half-hug from Dad, they ducked inside their SUV and pulled out, leaving me and Gavin alone.
“You good?” I asked.
“As good as I can be after that, I guess.” He frowned. “I took Riley to get ice cream, but… I don’t know, man. Something’s off with her. I know she blames herself for the loss, but it feels heavier than that.”
I swallowed. “I’ll check in on her, figure out what’s going on.”
Gavin nodded. “Thanks, man. I need to get across town for practice, but it killed me to leave her like that.”
“She’ll be okay,” I promised him — and I felt comfortable making that promise because I knew Riley enough to know nothing could keep her down.
Gavin nodded, letting out a long sigh. “I’m glad she has you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.
Because I was a thousand percent sure Riley didn’t feel the same.
“What about you,” Gavin asked next. “Are you good?”
He nodded to where my parents had just stood, and I grabbed the back of my neck on a shrug.
“Fine. You know how it is.”
“I do,” Gavin said, his eyes telling me more than words that that statement was true. “They love you. That’s why they push.”
“I know.”
And I did. I was thankful for everything they’d sacrificed for me, for everything they saw in me from a young age and encouraged me to pursue — despite test scores and guidance counselors that told them I would struggle.
I wouldn’t be here without them.
“You’re doing great, Zeke,” Gavin said, snapping me back to the present. He waited until I looked at him to continue. “As a teammate, as a friend, and as a student.”
I snorted a laugh at that last part.
“I’m serious,” he said, frowning until I dropped the goofy grin. “I’m proud of you.”
Gavin knew better than anyone how much hearing those words meant to me. I could barely nod in acknowledgement before it felt too uncomfortable, foreign and unnatural, like something I needed to squirm away from.
“I’m going to head out,” I said. “I’m beat. You got a ride to practice?”
“Yeah, Ralphy’s brother is picking me up. Games at your place later this week?”
I clapped his hand when he held it out. “Only if you wanna get beat like always.”
