“Still got fifty-nine minutes to go, Coach. Let’s make sure we leave no doubt.”
The defense, battle hardened now but still hamstrung by the pure complexity of what the rules allow Canadian offenses to do and injuries, slows the Calgary offense, but they're still grinding out yards, just getting enough to get first downs, but making their way down the field. It's a long drive time-wise by Canadian standards, twice going to third down conversions, but in the end, the Sabercats tie it up, and we're back on the field.
“Tyler,” Coach pulls me aside while the kick return team gets ready. “The defense needs a rest. Short passes, give them a few minutes, okay?”
“Got it, Coach.”
He isn't lying, other than sending Robbie deep again on a Valley route, everything is short, under ten yards. “Will do.”
The ball snaps, and I check my receivers, but tuck the ball and run, seeing the gap toward the sidelines. It's not much, only five yards, but I step out of bounds without getting smacked and stop the clock. I don't care about game time, I want real time for my guys to rest.
“I guess you were wearing your lucky underwear,” April jokes when I come out of the locker room after the game. “I've never seen such a performance.”
“I have you to thank for that,” I say, holding the game ball in my hand. It's my second of the year, but this one I'm prouder of. Thirty-two out of thirty-six, four hundred yards passing, and five touchdowns is the sort of performance that gets attention, regardless of what level it was on. “Here, this one's for you.”
I hand her the ball, and I can see that April's touched. She holds it for a moment, then gives me a hug. “I love you.”
I hug her back, and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Come on. Coach said that as the game MVP, I get to sit where I want on the plane ride home, and I told him that I wanted to sit next to you. We've got a lot to talk about.”
“About what?” April asks, and I put an arm around her shoulders, feeling the comfortable presence of her against my side.
“Next week's a bye week, remember? Coach gave the team the weekend off, so I was thinking that Saturday and Sunday, you and I can drive to London. It'd be nice to actually meet your parents. And I did like that sausage.”
April nods and gives me a squeeze. “Then we've got a lot to talk about before we get to London. Including a story I need to tell you.”
Chapter 16
April
I'm actually nervous as I get behind the wheel of Tyler's Mustang. It's not the car, I've driven it plenty of times over the past month, we've shared everything but toothbrushes and underpants, but this time, I'm nervous as we get on the expressway toward London.
“April, if you don't want to tell me, or if it's too difficult, you don't have to,” Tyler says as he sees my white knuckles on the steering wheel. He knows I've been struggling with this for the entire week, and to his credit, hasn't pressured me about it at all since Calgary. “In fact, would you prefer if I drive?”
“No . . . the driving helps,” I say, taking a deep breath and putting the car in cruise control. “Tyler, I've known a lot about you, and you’ve been open with me about everything. So I've been nervous this whole time, because there's been some secrets that I've kept from you.”
“I figured as much,” Tyler says easily. I'm shocked, I mean, keeping secrets is one of those things that is supposed to break relationships, but Tyler's taking it totally in stride, and he explains why before I can even ask. “I mean, we didn't exactly start seeing each other after exchanging complete autobiographies. I don't care about your past, I care about you and who you are.”
“But the past helps shape who we are today,” I counter, thinking about my own feelings about my secrets, “including why I am so shy, or have been for so long. I wasn't always this way, you know.”
“I didn't think you were. Something inside me tells me that you used to be a playful girl.”
“I was, and that's something else we need to talk about,” I add, kicking myself for letting that go unsaid for so long. “But first . . . his name was Thomas. Never Tom, always Thomas. Thomas Benedict.”
“What happened? What’d he do?” Tyler asks, and I shake my head, holding up a finger.
“Please, Tyler . . . I need to tell this at my pace. I met Thomas when he moved to London from Hamilton, his second year of high school. We met at a basketball game, his team was playing my school, and at the time I was a member of the girl's team, as well as the swim team. Bet you didn't know I used to be an athlete myself.”
“I'm not surprised, you understand my mindset so well, but go on.”