My dad and I high-five, and hug, and he holds me close for longer than two football fans normally embrace. “You did good. I’m proud of you, Katie,” he whispers in my ear, at just the right volume for me to hear.
“Me too,” I say, emotion tight in my voice.
“But then, I’ve always been proud of you.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
When the game ends, the Renegades celebrate on the field, but the man who made the game-winning touchdown yanks off his helmet and rushes over to me. I make my way to the edge of the stands, racing closer to him.
His grin is elated. His brown eyes are lit up like sparklers.
When I reach him, he lifts his arms for me, and I climb over the stands and into them.
He tugs me close, kisses me, and says, “Playoffs, sweetheart.”
“Get that third ring, handsome.”
He smooches me hard, and when he lets go, a reporter strides over and asks for a minute.
“Sure,” he says.
She thrusts the mic at him. “How did it feel to make that game-winning touchdown catch?”
He glances at me next to him.
I squeeze his hand, letting him know I’m by his side. He told the team his news already, but he hasn’t told the fans. “It felt great, Erin. Especially since this is my last season.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. You’ve decided to retire?”
He nods, resolute, making his announcement official. “I have. This will be my last season as a Renegade, and I hope we go out on top. I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.”
“And what will you do when you retire?”
He shrugs happily, lifts our joined hands, presses a kiss to mine. “Spend time with my girlfriend and my daughter. Maybe take some trips.” He turns to me. “Hey Katie, want to travel in the off-season?”
“As long as the timing works out,” I say with a smile.
He winks my way, and I catch it.
“We’re a good team,” he says.
Yes, yes we are.
32
Jason
Three words that are always satisfying to hear—you were right.
And I will be waiting for them from my buds when I head into the gym today. Yup, I’ll take a handful of I can’t believe I ever doubted you any second.
Now that Harlan has experienced the joys—pun intended—of workout dates, I am ready to collect.
I push open the door of the gym on Fillmore Street, spotting the regular crew at the weights. I head over to join Harlan and Cooper, setting down my water bottle with a satisfied grin. But if anyone should be satisfied it’s those guys—they clinched a playoff spot yesterday. Still, I get to gloat on another matter.
“Hello, gentlemen.”
“Don’t look so pleased, kiddo,” Harlan says, but I can tell the guy is trying valiantly to come across like a hard-ass.
Newsflash—he’s failing. He’s such a marshmallow.
I give an easy shrug as I stretch my quads. “Pleased? Me? Why ever would I look pleased?”
I’m so pleased.
Harlan rolls his eyes, shakes his head, pushes up from the weight bench. “Let me get my wallet. I’ve got a Benjamin. I presume you take cash for your bets, duckling?”
Time to mess with him again. “Sure . . . if you don’t want to do Bitcoin.”
Harlan rolls his eyes.
Cooper hoots. “Oh man. Jason, you better watch it. You don’t want to piss off the King of the Jungle.”
Actually, he’s dead-on. I don’t want to tick off Harlan or Cooper. I like this pack of friends I’ve made in the NFL, and I damn well want to keep them. They’re good guys, and the world doesn’t have enough of those.
“Actually, we’re all good,” I say to the receiver. “You can just buy me coffee next time we hang out.”
Harlan laughs. “You hate coffee, and I always make good on my bets.” Then he inhales deep, squares his shoulders, and says, “You were right, Jason. Workout dates are awesome.”
I wiggle a brow. “They’re the best.”
“Workout dates are the absolute best,” he adds, barely able to suppress a grin. “God, I love workout dates so much. Apparently, I was having workout dates all along, and they were great. You knew it, kid,” he says, poking my chest. “You fucking knew it.”
I give a sly smile. “I know some things,” I say, even though my last workout date didn’t pan out.
We just didn’t spark like I wanted, like I’ve sparked with others in the past.
With one other guy.
One I wouldn’t mind sparking with again.
“Yes, you do,” Harlan says, then pays up. I pocket the dough, and the three of us lift weights, shooting the breeze as we go.
When we finish, I’m getting ready to head to the Hawks training facility for practice when the door swings open to the gym.
And someone I used to know walks in.
Someone who definitely makes me spark.
Trouble is, he’s also my rival.
33
Emerson
Early February
* * *
I whistle with approval as Katie holds up a sparkly fuchsia Renegades sweatshirt. “Is this the winner?”