Touchdown! I tossed the ball in the crowd and a fan caught it.
I glanced up to Sunny’s seats and kissed my fingers—out of habit—but she still wasn’t there.
Let it go, Max. She’s okay.
I concentrated on the next possession. We lined up, the ball was snapped, and like perfect choreography, I looked down the left sideline and connected with Tate for a twenty-yard pick up. Another pass to the tight end put us within thirty yards of a touchdown.
We moved the ball further down the field.
But we had to score to win. Time was ticking.
I caught the snap, looked down the center, and saw Tate wide open. I sailed it through the air, and he caught it on the ten and ran it in for the final touchdown.
The noise in the stadium was deafening. Confetti went everywhere. The marching band cranked up our fight song.
My heart raced as I looked at the scoreboard and watched as the seconds counted down. Three, two, one . . .
I tossed my head back and yelled my victory into the now darkened sky. That’s for you, Mom, I whispered into the chilly air.
Like a horde, players and fans swarmed the field, jostling each other. It was an assault of flashbulbs, reporters, and the other team coming to congratulate us.
Someone nudged me in the back, and I turned around. Felix. He whipped his helmet off and held it with a tight grip. “Were you serious about the police?” His eyes darted around the stadium.
“Hell yeah.” I slapped him on the back. “Can’t go to the NFL if you’re in jail, asshole.”
Hardness grew in his gaze, and I could tell he was getting ready to mouth off.
Fuck that. I ignored him and turned away.
This was my team. My moment.
Someone shoved me from behind, causing me to stumble into a lady reporter who was busy getting her mic out. Mortified, I quickly regained my balance and apologized. Once I made sure she was okay, I flipped around, expecting to see some random person. It was Felix. Again. He curled his lip as people milled around us.
I just stared at him. He’d always been the instigator in our run-ins, yet infuriatingly cool when I’d been the one to react.
But now, he was the livid one, his taut stance practically begging me to come at him.
I wasn’t stupid.
I read that asshole like a weak defensive line.
He was itching for me to hit him. He wanted me to fuck up. This was his last opportunity to ruin my chances at a Heisman.
I smiled at him. Who knew that keeping my cool would feel so fucking good?
Fast as ever and always looking out for me, Tate popped up next to me. He looked from me to Felix, taking in his clenched fists and red face. He took him by the arm and forcefully directed him to the sidelines. I watched as they disappeared slowly.
I refocused and met the bewildered eyes of the reporter who had obviously not seen anything since he’d been hidden behind me. Thank God. I didn’t need any media drama. “Sorry about that. I can throw a ball but apparently I have two left feet.”
She blushed and laughed, saying something about too many people and how she was glad to catch my fall. She waved her camera guy over and once he set up, she put her mic in my face. “What are your plans after the big win tonight?”
Clarity drifted in, and fuck, did it feel good.
Sunny. I needed her.
I couldn’t exist without her in my world.
I smiled at the reporter, a genuine one, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “I’m going to kiss my girl.”
I just had to find her first.
Max
“IT’S ON TV AGAIN,” TATE called from the den. I jogged out from the bedroom and came to a halt in front of the blaring television.
It was Tuesday, and I was still riding high from our win. The only thing missing was Sunny. As soon as the game ended, I’d grabbed my phone and found the reply she’d sent me. Her dad was dying, and she and Mimi had headed there so she could say goodbye. I worried for her, missing her like hell and wanting to tell her everything going on with me, but I was waiting—albeit a bit impatiently—until I saw her.
“Check it,” Tate called, pointing at the TV.
A Sports Center Special Report was on, showing the last play of Saturday’s game. The head anchor, a burly fellow who’d played college football for Tennessee, spoke to the camera. “And later tonight at six, we’ll be live at the Downtown Athletic Club in New York for the Heisman Finalist announcement.” A picture of me came on the screen. I swallowed.
He continued, “Max Kent has been the front-runner most of the season, but he and the Tigers stumbled mid-season. He finished strong in the win against Taylor University, and I’m sure he’s on the edge of seat wondering if he made the cut.” The reporter sent a knowing look to his co-anchor.