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Charlie: I love you, Beck. Good night.

Beck: I love you, Boss. Night.

I know I told her I needed some space, but I never meant for it to be more than one night. And maybe she’s right. It’s probably not the right time to talk about everything, but, fuck, I miss her.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

BECKHAM

The last weekand a half has been brutal, and to be real, I haven’t been playing my best. We were in the field house, running plays more than anything. Training for the championship game, eating, sleeping. The university even waived attendance in class due to our practices and travel schedule.

I’ve texted Charlie every day. Sometimes just to say I love her. Been talking to my dad and sister too.

We’re playing this championship game in Miami, and I can’t complain. We get some cold weather at Walker, but playing in warmer weather is top choice. And this time of year in Florida isn’t as hot, so it’s prime.

My family is on their way down here now. Their plane should land in the next hour or so. The Kings, including Charlie, are traveling with them. The hotels we stay in try to keep blocks of rooms reserved for family for games like this, so they were able to get rooms at our hotel again. Which is great because I love seeing her and my family before we get on the bus to head to the game.

This morning, after we got here, we watched film in one of the conference rooms the hotel set up for us. Now, we’re pulling into the players’ entrance at the stadium parking lot. We have to do some press, and we’ll be running some drills. Southeast had the field this morning since they hadn’t had to travel as far as we did. So, aside from stadium staff, we—the trainers, coaches, and team—are the only ones here.

After dropping our gear in the locker room, we’re escorted out to the field. We’ve played in bowl games like this before, but last year, we didn’t make it to the semifinals. This hits different.

Casey is walking next to me, and I elbow him. He turns to me, and we smile at each other.

“Beck! Can you fucking believe this? Every-fucking-thing we’ve worked for is right here in our hands. All the blood, sweat, fucking two-a-days got us to this spot. I’m so pumped right now. I just want to get dressed and win this motherfucker!” Casey is practically bouncing on his feet.

It’s not that I’m not excited. I am. I think I’m just trying to absorb it all. There’s a confidence I feel in our team, and assuming we don’t royally fuck up, I think we can win this. I want to win it for all of us because we’ve worked so hard this season, but I also want Liam to leave Walker with this win on his stats sheet.

Archie comes up behind us and gets us both in a headlock. “Hey, dickheads. Can you believe this? This is the tits. We’re gonna blow those Southeast fuckers away—ya feel me? Oh shit, hold up. Where’s Pitz?”

He lifts his arms off Casey and me and looks around for Liam. He’s across the field with the quarterback coach and Bo, but that doesn’t stop Archie from letting out a piercing whistle to get his attention. When the entire team looks at Archie, he puts a hand up.

“Pitz, get your ass over here for a minute.”

The quarterback coach just shakes his head at Archie and shoves Liam toward us.

Pitz jogs over, then jumps on Archie’s back. “You dick. I was going over a few new plays with the coach.”

Archie flips Liam off his back, but before Liam lands on the ground, Arch grabs his arm. “Can’t have you getting injured before your last game as a Stallion.” Then he smacks Pitz on the ass.

“Ow, asshole. That hurt. I don’t have pads on yet, you dick,” he says as he shoves Archie.

Archie hardly moves and laughs at Liam’s attempt. “Okay, fellas. Let’s be real for a few minutes. This is my last college game. Last game Pitz will play as a Stallion. Linson, I didn’t know when I met you—what, two years ago now?—that you would become one of my best friends. You’re a hell of a player, but an even better friend. And, King, you level out Linson’s moodiness, which is why we’ve kept you around.”

We all laugh.

“I’m just playin’. You would do anything for any of us, and that’s appreciated more than you know, King. We know you have our backs, no matter what, on and off the field.

“Now, Pitzy, we’ve been playing together for three seasons. You’ve been my QB, my wingman, and one of my best friends. I’m really going to miss seeing your ugly mug every day.

“Okay, enough sappy shit. Let’s bring it in.” He holds out his arms and waves us in. “Come on, fuckers. Let’s do this.”

The four of us stand in a circle, arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Here’s to the games we’ve won together and the one we’re about to win. And here’s to our brotherhood. We might not be related by blood, but I wouldn’t want to do this without you guys. Now let’s go get that fucking trophy!”

We all yell, “Hell yeah!”

“Hold up. Let me get a pic of the four of us on the field.” I pull out my phone and put it in selfie mode.