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“Yeah!” Dylan whooped.
The camera, realizing the runner didn’t have the ball, panned back to Scott, who’d already set his feet. He drilled a pass between two defenders, a chancy throw, but it paid off.
The receiver rolled to his feet and spiked the ball as the refs raised their arms.
“Touchdown.”
“Finally!” Abby high-fived Dylan.
But the Raptors had blown all their energy on those seven points, and the defense struggled against the 49’ers offense. Garrett Matthews, the quarterback, had studied in Kansas City under Manny Patrick; one step better than studying his tape, and they’d dialed in their rushing game. Another touchdown.
Again, the Raptors were deep in a hole.
Playing catch up since the half had taken its toll, and exhaustion dogged the defense’s steps. They needed a long drive to run out the clock a bit, then maybe take a two-point conversion. Either way, they couldn’t allow the 49ers to score again.
Then, in surreal slow-motion, Scott passed up the field, straight into the arms of a defender.
“No,” Abby shrieked in outrage. “Come on.”
Dylan slumped in his seat.
“It’s okay, there’s still time...”
But the last few minutes of the game spun out with another touchdown for San Francisco, an easy pick-six, and by the time the Raptors got the ball back, only enough time remained for Scott to pitch a Hail Mary up the field, but the receiver tripped over his own feet, sliding on his belly in the turf as the ball sailed overhead.
The last second ticked away.
Dylan and Abby sat silently as the commentators picked the game apart, then Abby grabbed the remote and mashed the power button. The screen went dark, but still, neither one said anything.
“It’s early in the season,” Abby choked out. “Away games are hard. They’re home next week, and the Seahawks lost today, so they’re only one-and-one...”
Dylan nodded. “I know.”
He didn’t need reassuring; this had always been his life.
“Ice cream?”
Dylan grinned. “Yes.”
Nineteen
SCOTT DIDN’T NEED her reassurance, either, but it didn’t stop Abby from trying.
“Don’t worry about it, plenty of teams have a rough start. What matters is peaking at the right time, not too early...” The words poured from her mouth like a leaking faucet she couldn’t quite turn off.
“Abby,” Scott rested his hand on her arm, sending a slow curl of heat through her chest.
Why did even the most casual of his touches set her senses spinning?
“It’s okay, I’m fine. You don’t need to do this.”
Abby’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I’m not sure what to say...”
Scott pulled her into a hug. “Nothing. Let it go. That’s what I have to do, too.”
“Are you sure?” At his nod, she relented. “Okay, letting it go.”
Abby tipped her face up toward his and pecked his lips with her own.