Page 70 of Fair Catch

“When?”

Noah shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know, man. But it does. Peyton says if Kelsey’s the one for you, you guys will find your way back to each other.”

“Your wife’s a hopeless romantic.” I’m not even mad he told her. He’s very clear about how he shares everything with his wife.

He chuckles. “I love that about her.” He pauses and looks around the room. “Come on, let’s go outside. It’s too nice to be in here.” Except outside is an indoor football field because it’s not nice outside right now. It’s in the thirties and raining. But it’s better than being in the stuffy gym, staring at myself.

I grab the bin of balls and drag it out to the field and wait for Noah to give me some instructions.

“I want to throw,” he says.

“Um . . . okay? What about Julius?”

“Nah, just us for right now.”

“And me.” Peyton’s voice echoes through the facility. She comes over with her clipboard and sits down near the bin of balls.

“You messed up, didn’t you?” I ask Noah. I look from him to his wife and shake my head.

Peyton smiles. “He didn’t. I just like watching him.”

“You’re not going to get all lovey-dovey on me, are you?” I ask the boss lady.

She shrugs and keeps her eyes on her husband. That right there, is the kind of love I want, and the kind I know I’d have with Kelsey if given the chance.

I run off and grab an empty bin and then head down field, ready to catch whatever Noah throws my way. Only that’s a lie because I can’t catch shit which is probably why I’m a center and not some hot shot QB or receiver. I can tackle, block, and make sure my quarterback has the ball in his hands on time.

I jump up and down and roll my shoulders to get ready. My eyes bug out when Noah hands Peyton the ball. All right, I get it. I take a couple steps in, and by a couple I mean I start to walk toward her.

“I’d stop if I were you,” Noah says.

“Really?”

“Or not.”

Peyton goes through the motions of receiving the ball, drops back and fires a cannon downfield. The ball whizzes by my ear and I’m too stunned to even try and catch it.

“Alrighty then,” I mumble to myself and head back to the bin.

She does it again and again, until she’s thrown every ball my way. I’ve caught maybe half, if that, and it’s not because she’s missed her target, it’s because I can’t catch worth a shit.

After picking up my dropped balls, I take the bin back to her and Noah. “Okay, what in the hell was that?”

Peyton shrugs.

When you want to give her a compliment, she’s shy and modest. When she wants to point out where you failed during a game, she’s a firecracker. I glance at Noah, who’s beaming from ear to ear.

“When we were kids, she came to all my practices. Her father and my stepdad let her play. They treated her like one of the boys, and most of the time she was better than kids four to five years older than her.”

I high-five Peyton and tell her I’ll be her center every time.

“Hey, you’re mine!” Noah says.

“Yeah, but she can throw better.”

Peyton giggles, rises on her toes, and kisses Noah. “I love you. See you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart.” I call out when she starts to leave. She turns and gives me a little wave before turning back around. Noah watches her like a hawk until she’s out of sight.

---