Kickoff

by Jami Davenport

  Jacob shrugged. “All I know is that he was heavy into gambling and about to lose everything, so he helped fix the game.”

  “What about you? How do you feel about this?” Derek spoke up, directing his question to Pastor Jake. “You’ve not breathed a word of this to anyone until now.”

  “I’ve forgiven myself and him and moved on, while Coach McCormick is paying the price every day.”

  “But—”

  “Derek, God has forgiven me. My congregation believes in me. God will judge him when the time comes.”

  Derek shook his head in amazement. “You really mean what you’re saying.”

  “I have faith, because without faith, we have nothing.”

  Rachel felt Derek’s eyes on her. She glanced at him.

  He raised one eyebrow. “Hear that, Rachel? Without faith, we have nothing.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  A few days later, Derek rapped on Rachel’s door late at night. They’d both been avoiding each other since the conversation with Jacob. She’d been understandably cold and professional during practice, and he’d dealt with it. Obviously, she was dealing with all kinds of emotions regarding her father and what he’d done.

  He’d given her some time to adjust, but they needed to sort out some things. Stuff had been bothering him, most of all, her blind faith in her father and her lack of faith in him.

  She opened the door after a long wait. She was in sweats and a T-shirt. Without uttering a word, she ushered him inside.

  “We need to talk,” he said, getting right to the point. Tyler would be proud.

  “Yeah. I know we have unresolved issues.”

  “We do. The season is nearing the end, and we don’t know where we’re going with this.”

  “Derek, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I thought you were being an ass by not supporting my dad.”

  “I know you’re sorry.” He slumped down in an easy chair, still trying to process everything. She’d thought the worst of him when all he’d been doing was saving her from the truth.

  “Mitch and I confronted Dad.”

  “What did he say?” Derek didn’t look up.

  “He denies everything. Claims Jacob is lying.”

  Derek shrugged. “I’m guessing you believe him.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  The sadness in her voice caused him to look up.

  “I really am sorry you have to deal with this.” His sentiment was genuine. Being disappointed by a parent hurt like hell. They were supposed to be beyond reproach, infallible. He’d been struggling with his former mentor’s fall from grace himself.

  “What about Mitch?”

  “He’s dealing. Right now, Ryan is his first priority.”

  “Your other brother?”

  “We saw no reason to tell him.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Mitch tried to call you a few times to apologize.”

  “He doesn’t owe me an apology.”

  “I told him he does.” Her movements stiff and mechanical, Rachel grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Dad had a gambling addiction, along with his drinking problem.”

  “Had?” Skepticism crept into his voice.

  She flinched slightly. “I think there’s some truth to him being part of that gambling ring when he was coaching college too. He’s in the running for an assistant coaching job at a local private college.”

  “He’s going to coach again?” Anger flashed across Derek’s face. “I swear to you, Rachel, if there’s even an inkling of anything shady, I’ll expose him. You tell him I’ll be watching him.”

  “That’s fair.” Rachel swallowed. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

  “But you did.”

  “Only at first. The alternative was just too painful to face.”

  “Yeah, well, you did what you needed to do.”

  “What about us?”

  Derek shrugged. “I need time to think.”

  “Are we going to be okay?”

  “Hell if I know, Rachel. Hell if I know.”

  “You can let yourself out.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away. Head down, shoulders slumped, she shuffled down the hallway, only tripping once over the edge of a rug.

  Derek watched her go and fought the urge to run after her, pull her into his arms, and forget the whole damn mess.

  But he stayed anchored to the spot and let her go. A piece of his heart fell at his feet.

  Chapter 28—Threading the Needle

  Derek stood on the sidelines and waited for the kickoff. One more game remained between his team and the biggest game of all. The dream of every little boy who ever played football. The dream of every Steelheads fan, new and old.

  Derek glanced at the sidelines, automatically seeking out Rachel. She had her head bent over a clipboard and was scribbling mad notes. He shifted his gaze higher. His father, stepmother, and sister sat a few rows up behind the bench.

  Besides the Steelheads’ championship shot, the story dominating the local papers centered around Ryan and how the team had adopted him as their honorary little brother. Thinking of Ryan sobered him. He’d seen the kid before they flew out and had been shocked at how much he’d gone downhill in a few days. Yet his eyes had still sparkled in his gaunt face with a determination purely Ryan. Damn, he had guts, but guts didn’t stop the deterioration of his body or the pain he lived with every day.

  It’d been a weird week, full of high expectations, joy, sadness, worry, and, most of all, heartbreak in the form of one clumsy green-eyed beauty who’d stolen his heart despite his denial to the contrary.

  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Derek turned back to the field. He was a professional. He would not let his personal life interfere like it had last week. Not today of all days. He needed to focus. For the next three hours, the game was all that mattered.

  The undefeated Dallas Outlaws were formidable and a team they had yet to play this year. The oddsmakers predicted the Outlaws as the winner by a large margin. After all, the hard-luck Steelheads shouldn’t even be here. They should’ve lost in the first round.

  Derek watched as the Steelheads’ defense buried the Outlaws again and again. The guys had come to play. Jazzed up to the max, the defense slapped backs, pumped fists, and swaggered around the field after every play, getting their rocks off by taunting a hostile Outlaw crowd.

  It was the Seattle Steelheads against the world, just like it always had been. Despite the defense’s enthusiasm, one of their DBs tripped on a pass play. Dallas, famous for taking advantage of every opportunity, scored.

  Shit, 0-7.

  Derek strapped on his helmet and went to work.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rachel chewed her fingernails to the quick as she stood on the sidelines, resisting the urge to pace. HughJack was doing enough of that for the entire coaching staff. The pressure on her and the other coaches was close to unbearable. How did they stand this day in and day out? She was becoming more and more convinced she wasn’t cut out for coaching and all the visibility and pressure that went with it. She much preferred staying in the background and helping the team in more subtle ways.

  The Steelheads battled back with a long, grinding drive to the end zone, ending in a quick pass to the tight end. Derek didn’t contribute much, but he threw a few good blocks. Tyler, determination etched in the set of his jaw, carried them on his back with pure strength of will.

  Tied 7-7.

  The tension in the stadium grew thicker than fog on Elliot Bay. At halftime, the score hadn’t changed, and it was largely a defensive battle. After halftime, Tyler threw an interception, and Dallas scored but missed the extra point: 7-13.

  One quarter left, but no fingernails. Rachel alternated between keeping an eye on the play and concentrating her focus on number eight-five—the man who held her heart in his hands.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The Steelheads answered with a time-consuming drive ending in a field goal. Watching from the sidelines, Derek p
rayed the defense held Dallas to a field goal. They did, but Dallas took the clock down to 1:54.

  Score: 10-16.

  A herd of buffalo stampeded in his stomach as he fastened his helmet and took his place on the end of the line. He made a diving catch for eight yards. Bruiser pounded it ahead for a first down. Derek served as a decoy, drawing two DBs, and the Bruise ground out three more first downs, taking it to the nine. First and goal. The next three plays went nowhere. A penalty set them back on the fifteen on the fourth down. For the second game in a row, the entire season came down to one last play.

  Fourth and goal.

  In fact, the press had recently dubbed them the Fourth and Goalers.

  Tyler didn’t like the defensive formation and called an audible. HughJack raged from the sidelines, clearly not happy with Tyler’s call. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it with no time- outs and five seconds on the clock.

  Derek sprinted toward the end zone, hounded by three defensive backs. He executed a sharp turn and lost two of them. Pivoting, he looked for the ball. He’d drawn all the defenders to his side, not giving Tyler a clear path.

  After faking a throw Derek’s way, Tyler sent the ball rocketing toward the Steelheads rookie Josh Spinner. But Pro-Bowler “Mad Max” Brown saw it coming and stuck to the kid like glue.

  Together they hurtled into the air. The ball sailed into Max’s outstretched arms. Spin strained to reach over Max’s shoulders. His fingers touched the ball. They crashed to the ground, wrestling for possession as they came down.

  But Spin wanted it more.

  The final whistle sounded. The crowd was hushed as the referees sorted out the mess in the end zone. Fighting his way out of the pileup, Spin emerged, clutching the ball. He sought out the referee. The zebra raised his hands over his head and signaled a touchdown.

  Next thing Spin knew, his teammates attacked and drove him to the ground, burying him in a frenzy of ecstatic blue and gold.

  The kicker split the uprights for the extra point.

  The Steelheads were going to the big game of all big games.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The crowd in Mitch’s house erupted, yelling, backslapping, high fives all around. Mitch held up his hand to high-five Ryan. The kid, a smile on his face, raised his arm in a feeble attempt to slap his hand. Then Ryan’s hand fell to his lap. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Shit!” Mitch shook him. Hard. “Ry? Ry? Can you hear me, buddy? Ryan! Oh, fuck, call 911!”

  Mitch grabbed Ryan, dragged him out of the chair, and started administering CPR.

  Chapter 29—Final Play

  The team landed late evening at Sea-Tac. Half the city turned out to welcome them back. Security attempted to hustle them through the crowds to a private lounge area, but the team hung back and enjoyed the party. By the time they got to their cars, it was hours later.

  He didn’t have a chance to talk to Rachel on the plane and was quickly separated from her in the terminal. With a sigh, Derek settled into the passenger seat of Tyler’s sports car. He switched on his cell phone and checked messages. “Damn, Rachel’s left six messages on my phone.”

  Tyler glanced over his shoulder. “She’s hot for you, cuz. Better call her before she comes to her senses.”

  Ignoring Tyler, he listened to the messages, a sinking feeling in his gut. Something wasn’t right. He listened as her voice sounded more and more frantic with each message.

  “Oh, shit. It’s Ryan.” Derek blinked, trying to see through a thick haze. Tyler’s face drained of all color.

  “What about Ryan?”

  “It’s time.” Derek clenched his jaw.

  “Is he—” Tyler shot a questioning look in his direction.

  “Not yet. We have to get to the hospital. He’s asking for us.”

  Tyler gunned the car. It screamed down Seattle streets slicked with rain. He ran two red lights and floored the gas pedal as they rocketed onto I-5, the engine whining. Good thing it was late at night with very little traffic.

  Derek crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the windshield. He swallowed. His throat constricted, and he choked up. The road swam in front of him like he was underwater.

  He put his head back against the headrest and said a verbal prayer. “Hang in there, buddy. We’re on our way.”

  Tyler glanced at his cousin. “He’s not going to make the big game, is he?”

  “No. Fuck the championship. We need to get there in time tonight.” Derek took a deep breath and let it out. Tyler gripped the steering wheel tighter, but Derek saw his hands shaking.

  Tyler hit the off-ramp to the hospital at Mach one. The car skidded to a California stop and rounded the corner, tires screeching. Derek pounded his fist on the dashboard in frustration.

  They had to make it in time.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Derek stood outside Ryan’s ICU room. He pressed his head against the wall for a moment and shut his eyes, summoning every ounce of strength he possessed. Stone-faced, Tyler went in ahead of him.

  Straightening, Derek entered the kid’s room. The lights were dimmed.

  Mitch looked up, frowning. Without a word, he slid past Derek and hissed in his ear. “About time you made it.”

  Derek cringed as Mitch slipped out of the room. Forcing a smile he didn’t feel, he sat in the recently vacated chair. The place smelled of antiseptic and something worse. If death had a smell, it hung in the room, permeated every corner, and sat heavy on Derek’s chest.

  “Hey.” Ryan smiled weakly at him and held out a shaky hand, frail and thin. Derek took it, shocked by how cold and bony it was.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Tyler rose from his perch on the windowsill across the room, his face pale, his eyes haunted. He squeezed Ryan’s thin arm. “Ry-man…” His voice broke. Derek looked away and swallowed. He’d never in all their years together seen Tyler lose it. He didn’t want to watch him now.

  Ryan managed a lopsided smile. “Love ya.”

  “I love you too, champ.” Bending down, Tyler hugged Ryan’s fragile body. He turned to walk out as tears gathered in his blue eyes.

  “Ty?” Ryan called after him.

  “Yeah?” Tyler hesitated in the doorway.

  “I was wrong.” Ryan paused, his chest heaving as he fought to fill his failing lungs with oxygen. “You do care. About people.”

  Tyler nodded. His face a grim mask, he shuffled out the door.

  “You’re here.” Ryan turned his head with great effort and smiled. His voice came out as a croaked whisper. Derek leaned closer to hear.

  “Of course. You’re the little brother I never had.” He swallowed a huge lump of grief and blinked back his own tears.

  “Brother. I like that.” Ryan smiled a strange, content, otherworld smile. It unnerved Derek.

  “Me too, buddy.” The plastic chair creaked under his weight.

  “You won. You’re going to the Super Bowl.”

  “Yeah.” It seemed hollow, a bittersweet victory. He’d trade a hundred trips to the Super Bowl for a miracle tonight.

  “I’m dying.” Ryan sought his eyes. Derek stared right back.

  “I know.” He saw no reason to sugarcoat the obvious. He squeezed Ryan’s hand.

  “Tonight. I saw an angel. He looked like…Tyler.” One corner of his mouth quirked, and a weak chuckle escaped his dry lips.

  “An angel like Tyler? Now that’s scary.” Derek forced a smile, but he wasn’t fooling the kid.

  “Yeah, minus the F-bomb every other word.”

  “That makes me feel a little better. You doin’ okay?”

  “I saw the other side.” A series of hacking coughs racked Ryan’s sick body. He struggled for oxygen and gasped from the effort. When the coughing subsided, he closed his eyes for a few moments. Derek waited and watched the shallow rise and fall of the kid’s chest. When Ryan spoke again, Derek put his ear next to his mouth in order to catch the words.

  “Going to a better place.”

  Dere
k nodded, words lodged in his throat.

  “Derek?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t fuck it up with Rachel.”

  “I’ll try to do the right thing,” Derek rasped.

  A long pause. Ryan licked his lips. Derek gave him a sip of water.

  “Win the Super Bowl for me.”

  “I’ll give it everything I’ve got. We all will. The whole team’s outside the door.”

  “It’s foggy in here. And cold. So cold. But there’s a warm light. Do you see it?”

  “Yeah, I see it.” Derek wiped the sweat from his brow. The room was so hot it was stifling. He held Ryan’s cold hand tighter.

  “I love you, buddy.”

  Another long pause. Derek thought he was gone, but his mouth moved. “Love you, Derek. Remember me.”

  “I could never forget you.”

  Ryan closed his eyes for the last time. His body managed a few shuddering breaths. Then the monitor near the bed showed a flat line. The room grew quiet. Ryan’s hand went limp. A slight smile curved his chapped lips.

  Derek pressed his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder and swallowed the sobs building in his chest.

  No way would he ever forget Ryan. None of them would.

  Derek stumbled out of the hospital room. He felt numb, and his feet didn’t want to work.

  He took in each person, one at a time, seeing the intense pain reflected in their glum expressions. The silence was louder than the fans at a Steelheads game.

  Ryan’s mother was a no-show. No one mentioned it, but everyone noticed. The waiting area was filled with teenagers, friends, and fellow teammates. Hulking Steelheads players, alone or with their wives, flowed out into the hospital corridor.

  Exhaling, Derek did the hardest thing he’d ever done. “He’s gone.”

  More silence.

  Every person knew it was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier. A teenage girl wearing a letterman’s jacket broke the quiet with wailing, so soft and subdued it sent chills down Derek’s spine. The dam broke after that. Big linemen, who played through pain every week, sobbed quietly, paying silent homage to the teenager who had fought so long and hard and never lost his positive attitude. They were his family, the only one he had in the end.