Page 3

CHAPTER 3

blue

I glanced around the locker room before dropping my head into my hands. We’d beaten Georgia 24 to 13, but it didn’t matter. My dad was going to be angry that I hadn’t cut left in the second quarter, which had allowed Harrison Banks to tackle me, preventing another touchdown.

My phone buzzed on the bench next to me and I groaned. “My freaking dad,” I muttered.

“Dude. I know. Mine has already sent me five texts asking where my head was tonight,” Tyson Rigby, our best wide receiver, commiserated.

“Ridiculous. You played a perfect game.”

He shook his head, sliding his belt through the loops of his jeans. “Doesn’t matter. It’s never enough.”

“Facts.” I exhaled as I picked up my phone.

But then I released a low, carefree chuckle when I read the name.

Silas Dupree

Just wanted to tell you, that was a perfect game if I ever saw one. Ease up on yourself and make a mistake now and then. You’re making the rest of us look bad.

I grinned and Tyson glanced over from where he was putting on his socks.

“Not my dad,” I said.

“Figured. Lucky.”

I reread the text, grinning even wider. I hadn’t seen Silas Dupree in more than four years but I swear he had a sixth sense. Every couple of months, right when I needed it most, he’d text me, checking in.

My thumbs hovered over the keypad on my phone as I carefully thought about what to type back. I didn’t know if Anna even knew we kept in touch. But in case she did, I wanted to make sure every word was my best.

Thanks, man. I appreciate that. I’ll see what I can do. :-) How’s the farm? The fam?

How’s Anna? I wanted to ask. But I wouldn’t. I never did. If he wanted me to know—if she wanted me to know—he’d tell me.

Immediately, his texting indicator wiggled.

Silas Dupree

Good. Everyone’s well. The boys are bouncing off the walls, as always. James hates preschool. Always wants to stay home and ride Maisy. A boy after my own heart.

I smiled, but my shoulders slumped. Not a word about Anna, then. He usually didn’t go there. But I always hoped.

Haha. Love that. How’s Lemon? And the baby?

His wife was pregnant again. This time with a girl.

Silas Dupree

Clem’s retaining some fluid and her blood pressure is a touch high. But the doctor says they’re doing well.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see.

Sending good vibes your way. Did you decide on a name yet?

Silas Dupree

Clem wants to name her Sophie. It’s a terrible idea. The last thing we need is Sophie Reincarnate running around. She was a handful. I’m sure you’ve heard.

I had. Many times. There was nothing like a dinner with the Duprees. The stories they told. I chuckled, just remembering. If you weren’t laughing, you were crying. One of the two. Sometimes both at the same time.

Fifty bucks Lemon gets her way.

Silas Dupree

She’s reading over my shoulder. She just said, “Blue always was my favorite.”

I did a small fist pump. Tyson gave me a chin toss and a “See ya” and left.

I chewed my bottom lip, trying to gather my nerve. I’d been thinking about something for a while. I didn’t know how it would go over, but time was running out. So I went for it.

You guys should come see me play IRL. We play VT in a few weeks. You and the boys could make a road trip out of it. Or you and the brothers.

Virginia Tech was only a couple of hours from Seddledowne. Only an hour from where Anna was going to school at James River College. I knew Silas’s brother Holden loved football. Though he was much older than me, we’d both played our share of football on the same high school field. Seddledowne Stallions all the way. And maybe, if Silas came to the game, Anna would come along. I knew Anna wanted to go to VT for vet school.

My stomach was in a knot while I waited for a response. Silas’s bubbles wiggled. Stopped. Wiggled. Stopped and wiggled again. Finally, after three minutes, he texted back.

Silas Dupree

Maybe next year. I don’t want to leave Clem home alone with the boys as far along as she is. But we watch every game. I know Holden does, too, and Dad. You played great tonight, Blue. Be proud of yourself.

I blew my breath out, my hopes completely dashed. Because not only had he turned me down, politely, it felt like the end of the conversation and he hadn’t said a word about Anna. I set the phone on the bench and rummaged through my bag for clean socks.

But then my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, grinning. But it wasn’t Silas.

Dad

If you’d cut left on that play toward the end of the second quarter, you could’ve gotten another touchdown. Get it together, Blue.

It wasn’t enough for him that, if on the off chance I stayed at the University of Knoxville until I graduated instead of going pro, I’d likely break the all-time passing record. He definitely didn’t care that football was a team sport. He thought I should showboat every chance I got.

I gripped the phone between my hands, my jaw clenched. So many retorts came to mind. But none of them would make it better. My dad couldn’t give a compliment to save his soul—especially when it came to me—and I was sick of busting my butt, hoping to get even one. My entire life I’d done nothing but jump through his hoops, and it was never enough.

I’d made the worst mistake of my life when I’d let him move me away from my mom four and a half years ago. I’d let him pull me out of school, left my Anna—the only person other than Mom who’d ever cared about me as an actual person and not for my athletic talent—and moved all the way across the country, just to make him happy. It hadn’t even worked. My dad was never happy. It didn’t matter how hard I played, how fast I ran, or how many passing yards I racked up. Had my football career taken off? Yes. But because of it, I’d lost the best thing that ever happened to me.

My best friend and roommate, Madden Frist, kicked my cleat. “Ready to watch me dust some old geezers on the ice?” His eyebrow flicked in a question.

I felt the scowl leaving my face and a smile taking its place. “You know it.” I lifted my chin at him. “You driving the Beamer or the ’Vette?” His family had more money than they knew what to do with.

“’Vette. Meet you outside.” He pulled his bag over his shoulder and texted someone as he walked away. Probably a girl. The dude was a hopeless romantic, always on the lookout for The One.

Madden was on an amateur ice hockey team, but he couldn’t tell any of the other guys. Our defensive line coach had a strict “no other sports” policy during the season. But Madden was third string and hardly played, so he felt okay about the deception—and I felt okay about supporting him. Hockey was his love. He only played football because his dad had played for Knoxville and was trying to relive his glory days through Madden.

The way Madden felt about hockey was how I felt about football. Cheering fans, the wind at my back, my pass soaring through the air? There was nothing else in the world as exhilarating.

My gut twisted…because that wasn’t true. I’d experienced something like it once before. Something even better. But it wasn’t a sport that had done it.

It was Anna.

She’d made me feel like that, every single day of my sophomore year of high school. And I’d been chasing that high ever since. I’d had it all, right there in my hands, and instead of staying put—instead of following my instincts—I’d let my dad talk me into heading for the West Coast.

I rubbed circles against my temples, remembering the day my dad drove me away from Seddledowne, Virginia, four and a half years ago. An image of Anna sobbing as she watched me go flashed into my mind. Gorgeous Anna with her chocolate brown hair and eyes the exact same color.

I needed to stop going there. If I quit welcoming the memories, I might get over her finally. No. My fist pounded against my temple. I was over her. I’d dated plenty of girls since Anna. I wasn’t sitting around pining. I’d lived my life. Made my choices. But still. She was the one I always came back to in my mind. The one I compared every girl to, and they always fell flat.

My head dropped into my hands again. I closed my eyes and let the memory take me. I was there on that last day, the last time I’d laid eyes on her. The tears, the desperation, the hurt in her eyes. It was seared into my memory like one of the Duprees’ branding irons. I shouldn’t have left her. Especially because she’d lost her mom to cancer the year before. Gah! I’d been so stupid to think it would work being that far apart. We were so young. So na?ve. I’d regretted it every day since we broke up. All I could do was think of what might have been. I hated being that guy. I would not live in the past and become bitter like my dad.

Clang!

My eyes flew open just as Brion slammed DeShawn into the locker in front of me. DeShawn had Brion’s phone in his hands. “Bro got a side piece! Wait until Faith finds out.”

Brion swore at him, reached for the phone, and they took off again.

That’s when I realized my phone was buzzing. Dad. He’d texted three times and called once while I’d zoned out.

Dad

We’re watching game tape as soon as you’re done. Head over to my place.

Blue?

BLUE. ANSWER ME. We have things to talk about. Like how you let that pecker sack you.

I exhaled and punched out a message.

I can’t. I’ve got plans. We’ll watch tape tomorrow.

Then I headed out of the locker room and down the hall to Madden’s car. I was going to get it for brushing Dad off but I couldn’t deal with him right then. I walked out into the cool evening air. The crowds were long gone and the reporters, thank goodness.

Madden had the door of the ’Vette open, waiting. I slid into the leather passenger seat and jammed my bag under my feet. The luxury car air diffuser sent citrus-scented puffs straight up my nose, almost making me forget I’d grown up dirt poor. Madden hit the gas so fast my head sucked back against the headrest.

Madden was an only child and his nanny had raised him. Everything about him said money. The Jordan retros he was wearing that were probably worth more than my hand-me-down sedan. The Rolex on his wrist. His parents’ house that put most celebrities to shame.

“You think any more about it?” Madden asked as he turned the radio down. He kept teasing me about quitting football for hockey. Such a joke. I could barely skate. But he was seriously considering it and I think he was nervous about doing it alone.

I pushed my bangs out of my eyes. I needed a trim. “Nah, man.” I cracked a grin. “Imma stick with football.”

“Don’t blame you.” He downshifted as he entered a turn. “If I had half the talent you have in your little finger, I would head straight for the draft.” He upshifted, gassing it again. “Not all of us can go pro.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be going pro.” I winked. “Maybe not in football though.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I slipped it out.

Silas Dupree:

So Clem says I should go to the game at VT. She says I need to get out of the house. I think she’s sick of my hovering. I’ll see if there are any tickets left and if the guys want to go. I’ll let you know. Ashton will probably make us sit on the VT side and wear all orange and maroon though. You’ve been warned

.

My entire body relaxed and a chuckle of relief took over. There was hope.

I’ll forgive the worst school colors of all time as long as we meet up after.

Silas Dupree:

Of course. I’ll keep you posted.

“Good news?” Madden asked, watching me. “It must be a girl. Is it Anna?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” His brow was cocked like he couldn’t imagine why a “sort of” would make me happy.

“It’s the best sort of I’ve had in four years. I’ll take it.”

“All right, then.” He smiled and gassed it again.