by Staci Hart
“They’ve got a fourth-quarter team this year — the farther behind they are, the harder they play, and they’re losing. So don’t get comfortable.”
He bounced, his dilated eyes on the field. “All right.”
I knew where his head was, full of adrenaline and drive and fury, all coiled up and contained in him, but he was ready to spring. The whistle blew, and special teams took the field for kickoff.
Kyle hadn’t headed back into the stands — I’d seen him moving through the players and the coaches, shaking hands and talking. I kept my eyes down, willing him to keep walking when he approached. And empty wish, I knew.
“Hey, Knight.”
I glanced up at him — he looked a little cowed, not nearly as cocky as he generally did, which was especially strange since he’d just been recognized publicly for his generosity to a stadium of people.
It was like I was in the Twilight Zone.
“Hey,” I said, and looked down again, flipping the page back, looking for nothing.
“Still pissed at me?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed at you, Kyle.” I flipped another page back with a snap.
“Listen, I’m sorry. You didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and you didn’t look interested in talking to me at the party. I talked to Cam for a bit though.”
I turned to him, eyes narrowed. “She didn’t tell me that.”
He smirked. My fist clenched.
“What’d you say to her?”
“Nothing. I bought your drinks and we chatted in line. She looked good, man. I get why you decided to hook up with her, even if that’s all it is.”
Drinks … it was after she’d gotten drinks that I’d lost her to her thoughts for the night. “Don’t you fucking talk about how she looked. You don’t get to look at her. What did you say to her?”
He put his hands in his pockets and puffed out his chest. “She almost tripped and fell, and I caught her. She’s a tiny little thing.”
The thought of his hands on her nearly threw me into a rage. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but my hands shook as I glared at him, wanting nothing more than to get my hands around his neck. I dropped the clipboard to my side, clutching it with sweating palms. “Kyle,” I warned.
“I just told her the truth. She doesn’t belong with you, man. You know that.”
My teeth ground together so hard they ached. “Who I’m with is none of your fucking business. Why the fuck do you care?”
A shadow passed over his face. “Because you haven’t been you since you moved in with her.”
“You haven’t been you since we left this field.”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t get it, bro. You dropped off the planet, quit hanging out with me or any of the guys, quit dating, for the most part. You couldn’t hang on to Jess, so, what? You end up slumming it with Cam? She’s pathetic.”
I snapped, roaring as I lunged for him, cocking my fist back and letting it go to hook him in the jaw. The players and staff around us grabbed me, but I shook them off and planted my feet, chest heaving and fist aching.
Kyle laughed and rubbed his jaw, rolling it to assess the damage.
“She’s all I’ve ever wanted, you son of a bitch,” I said through my teeth, “and you’re part of the reason she’s not mine.”
“Good riddance.”
My nostrils flared, fist clenching again, the pain forgotten for a moment as I used all of my power to keep myself still. This wasn’t the place. “Stay away from her. Stay away from me.”
“You don’t mean that.” He smirked.
“I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. Now get the fuck out of here, or I swear to God I’ll—”
“What? Knock out an NFL player, an alumnus, on camera? The guy who just paid for new uniforms for the entire team?” He laughed, the sound dry and cold. “Who the fuck are you to threaten me? You’re nobody, Knight. You could have been somebody, but look at you now. Washed up, wishing for the glory days, standing on the sidelines while I play. While I make money, get the girls.”
The other players standing near us turned to face him, their jaws set, a wall of us standing against him.
“I already had the girl. That was all I really needed.”
He was flanked by players, including Darryl, who said, “I think you should leave.”
Kyle stepped up to him, bowing out his chest. “Fuck you, you little punk.”
Darryl stood his ground, and Kyle sneered.
“You think you know? This isn’t shit.” He motioned to the field. “This is nothing. It’s a stepping stone to get to the pros,” he met my eyes, “because if you don’t hit pro, you’re nobody.”
I didn’t realize my dad had stepped up to the fray. “What the fuck is going on here? Churchill, get the fuck out of here before I have you thrown out.”
Kyle met my dad’s eyes with rage burning behind them. “Sure, Coach.” And with that, he turned to go.
Dad turned to us, jaw set. “Quit fucking around, everybody. We’ve got a game to play, for chrissake.” Everyone dispersed quickly, and when he looked at me, his face was hard, but his eyes were soft. He nodded at me, and I nodded back.
The back half of the game was a blur, part of my mind on the game, but in every spare second between plays I sifted through what had happened. Cam, poor Cam. Who knew what he’d said, really. It couldn’t have been good, probably worse than what he’d even told me. And she believed him. He’d hit her right where it hurt, knowing what would happen, or at least hoping for what happened. And she didn’t tell me.
But of course she didn’t.
I had to call her, message her. Talk to her. It didn’t change anything, but it changed everything. Because before that, I felt her, knew she was happy and good and ready to be with me. I knew that what he said affected her. And that night, I convinced her again to stay. And the next day, when she tried to talk to me like I’d wanted, I walked away.
We won the game, and I followed the team into the locker room, listened to my dad give a speech to the team. I waited in the wings while he talked to the press, the first moment I’d had to myself, and I pulled out my phone, firing off a text to Cam. I couldn’t wait a minute longer.
Need to talk. You around?
I held my breath, ran a hand over my mouth as I stared at my phone. The bubbles bounced, and my breath stayed still.
Can’t talk. Sorry.
My heart sank. Let me know when you have time.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t even start to type — I knew because I stared at the screen through the junket, hoping.
Over an hour later, we pulled out of the stadium in Dad’s car, listening to Willie Nelson croon about blue eyes while I leaned on the door, eyes beyond the window and thoughts a thousand miles away, with Cam.
“What happened with Churchill?” he asked, breaking the silence between us. “A couple of people asked me, but you couldn’t really see what happened. Looked like you popped him.”
“I did.”
“What’d he do?”
“Insulted Cam. Insulted me. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t cause any problems for you, Dad.”
He chuckled. “You didn’t. Players get in fights enough on the sidelines and nobody notices, though it doesn’t usually resort to blows. Neither of you are on the team — I’m sure if he complains I’ll get a talking-to, but I wouldn’t worry about that.”
My fist still ached, and I opened and closed it, glad for the pain. Glad I’d gotten at least one hit on him when he deserved so much more.
“He got in her head, Dad. He told her she didn’t belong with me. He wanted to run her off, and he did. I thought it was just her not being able to decide what to do, but it was Kyle.”
He gripped the wheel. “Well, then I’d say he deserved more than one hit.”
I smiled. “I just thought the same thing. I could have beat the shit out of him. I only stopped because of where we were.”
He shook his
head. “I’m not gonna lie. I kinda wish you had.”
“Me too.”
“What does this mean for you and Cam?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I texted her as soon as I could but she won’t talk to me.”
He nodded, eyes on the road. “I hope she comes around, son.”
“Me too,” was all I could say as we pulled onto the highway, and I checked my phone once again only to be disappointed.
LIMBO
Tyler
I WOKE IN MY OLD bed, in my old room, reaching for my phone. Not to check the time.
But my heart sank once I unlocked it. She hadn’t messaged me or called.
I sighed and closed my eyes, settling back into the bed, though I knew I wouldn’t sleep again. The phone was still in my hand, and I squeezed it, thinking about messaging her again.
I replayed our fight, like I had a hundred times. I’d shut her down not knowing Kyle had tried to interfere, but that knowledge changed things, and I wanted to talk to her about it. I wanted to hear what happened from her, wanted to tell her Kyle was wrong.
But she hadn’t messaged me, didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t be sure what the silence meant, and if I hadn’t had work to do, I would have left that day. Because I couldn’t stand it, the not knowing. The waiting. I needed to kiss her again and tell her that I loved her, even if it was for the last time.
I let out a breath, though it did little to vent the pressure in my chest. The room was chilly when I flipped back the blankets, and I rushed to dress, pulling on track pants and an Under Armour long-sleeved shirt that fit me like second skin.
Downstairs, my family bustled around — Dad making breakfast, Mom sitting at the bar drinking coffee with Meg, Jamie and Grace sitting at the breakfast table, whispering and giggling. They looked up when I entered.
Meg smirked at me. “Morning, slugger.”
I smirked back.
“How’s your hand?”
I held it up — it was a little swollen, especially around my knuckles, which were raw, but it was fine. I wiggled my fingers. “In working order.” I made my way to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup. “Dad tell you?”
“I only told your mom,” Dad called over his shoulder.
“I never did like Kyle,” Mom said and took a sip.
I laughed. “Liar.”
“Well, fine, but I haven’t liked him in a long time.”
“Me neither.”
“Everybody was talking about it last night,” Meg said. “I wish you’d come out.”
“I don’t, not after that.” I sighed. “I was hoping nobody was watching.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody in Nebraska was watching Kyle Churchill. I thought you guys were friends?”
“So did I.” I took a seat next to my mom. “He talked about Cam in a way I didn’t like, and it wasn’t the first time. And I found out he said some stuff to her that hurt her, which hurts me, and hurt us. So, yeah. I decked Kyle Churchill on the sidelines of the homecoming game. I feel like I had plenty of reasons.”
“I agree,” Meg said. “You talk to Cam?”
I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee to avoid speaking.
Dad walked up with plates and slid them over to Mom and Meg first. “She’ll come around, Tyler.”
I nodded slowly as he went back for another set of plates. “How was the party, Meg?”
She shrugged. “Same old. If you’d asked me when I was a freshman if I’d ever get tired of parties, I’d have laughed at you and said you were crazy. But now that I’m old enough to drink, the magic’s gone.” She popped a piece of bacon in her mouth.
Mom gave her a look.
“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s not like you didn’t do the same. It’s basically a cardinal rule of attending college.”
She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her eggs. “What are you boys doing today?”
Dad had already given Grace and Jamie their plates and was heading over with ours. “We’ve got a workout planned with Darryl at the stadium.”
I frowned as I took my plate. “Not the gym?”
“Nah,” he said as he took a seat next to me. “I’ve got something special planned.”
“That’s never good.”
He smirked. “Oh, it’ll be good, but you’re bound to hate me when it’s over.”
I groaned.
“This is about as active as I plan on being,” Meg said and went for another slice of bacon. “I’m exhausted. I’m planning on sleeping and reading the book you brought me.”
I shook my head. “Aren’t you ever going to move out?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Why would I move out? Bust my butt to work and finish school my senior year just so I can pay bills?” She snorted. “No, thanks. Pass. Hard pass. Plus, who will cook me breakfast on Sundays?” She smiled at Dad.
He smiled back wryly. “Sunday breakfast will be here whether you live here or not, so feel free to move out whenever you want, honey, and you just drop in to see me if you’re looking for pancakes.”
I laughed.
Mom looked at her watch and sat up a little straighter. “Oh, shoot.” She shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got to get going.”
I raised a brow. “At nine in the morning on a Sunday?”
She flushed a little. “I’ve got a thing.”
“A thing?”
“A thing,” she said pointedly.
“Well, all right, I guess. Don’t let us stop you from your mysterious thing. I’ll try not to be hurt that my only mother doesn’t want to eat breakfast with me.”
She chuckled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?” She and Dad shared a look. “Have fun working out. Tell Darryl I said hello.”
“We will,” Dad said, and Mom left.
Jamie and Grace giggled from the table again, and I caught Meg making the throat-cut motion with her finger. She grinned at me when she saw me looking.
“What?” she asked chastely.
I narrowed my eyes. “You guys are acting squirrely.”
She rolled hers. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, Tyler.”
I looked at Dad, who shrugged, so I did the same and tucked into my breakfast, wondering what had gotten into everybody.
A couple of hours later, we pulled up to the stadium, mercifully. I had no idea why Dad ran all over creation before heading to campus — we drove to the hardware store and walked through the lumber for twenty minutes, then to Target where we picked out a Halloween card for my grandparents, and finally to the sporting goods store, which was the only thing that made any sense. His phone kept going off, and once someone called, but his end of the conversation was only one-word sentences.
So, by the time we got to the stadium, I was suspicious.
“Took us long enough,” I shot as I climbed out.
He frowned as he closed his door. “Don’t gimme that. Your mom had a list of stuff she needed me to pick up while she did her things this morning.”
“Right. Things. You guys are being weird.”
He waved his hands, mocking me. “Sorry we’re not all big-city fancy pants hot-shots with places to go in a big hurry. Anyway, Darryl just got here, he was running late.”
“Well, you could have just said that.”
He shrugged.
I followed him up to the gates, then into the stadium, thinking about all the ways he was about to kill me as we headed into the bleachers. But when we stepped out of the tunnel and I looked in front of me, I slowed to a stop.
The Nebraska State band was lined up on the field, no less impressive for being in their street clothes, and when they saw us, the drum majors blew their whistles and the band began to move.
“Bust a Move,” if I were being technical.
They danced as they walked across the field in formation, the drum line banging, twirling their sticks in succession. I laughed, the sound drowned by the epic volume of t
he band echoing off the empty stands, so shocked that I didn’t see Cam until a little bit into the song.
I gaped, not believing my eyes.
She stood at the bottom of the bleachers, just off the field in front of me, smiling, blushing, glowing as she danced. And did she dance.
She moved with abandon, hands in the air, hips moving in time to the beat, shuffling down the bench. She Cabbage Patched and MC Hammered, stopping to Butterfly, her tongue slipping out as she wiggled and rolled. And in between moves, she danced her way up toward me and I stood there laughing, dumbfounded, unable to grasp what in the world was happening.
Dad was laughing his ass off next to me, my mom and Darryl too. I looked up into the stands and saw half the team, all of them dancing and rapping the words. And on the chorus, as Cam approached, she sang the words, telling me if I wanted it, I got it, pointing at me, turning to wiggle her ass. I smiled, mouth a little open, shaking my head as the band played, loud and fierce and she danced.
She’d done this. All of it. For me.
When the band hit the breakdown and the drumline went crazy, they literally all started dancing — all three hundred of them broke it down just when Young MC told them to, and so did Cam.
I’d never seen anything so amazing in my life as Cam Emerson dancing on those bleachers.
When the song was over, the band cheered, whooping and hollering as Cam hopped down, bounding over to me. The drum majors blew their whistles again, and they gathered together, flipping their sheet music before starting the Billie Holiday song we’d danced to at the party.
She looked up at me, her small face open to me, cheeks flushed, dark eyes wide and full of fear and regret and hope. When she slipped her hands in mine, I knew exactly what she would say and exactly what I would say, and I only wanted to fast forward to the moment when I could kiss her. Because this was it. She was it.
Her fingers twisted in mine, her eyes searching my face. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, did you know that?”
I cupped her cheek, emotion burning in my throat.
“But I set the whole thing on fire, and all because I was afraid. If I’d stopped worrying long enough to look, I would have realized how wrong I was. In your arms, I’ve never felt so safe. If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together. I understand now. You were with me, always, and I’m with you to the end, if you’ll have me. I want to burn together. I want to burn with you.” She took a breath, brown eyes begging, sparkling. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry I let you down. Will you forgive me?”
