Page 5

CHAPTER 5

blue

T he team bus came to a slow roll as it pulled into the stadium parking lot. Home game or not, Coach always made us all stay in a hotel the night before. He didn’t want any hanky-panky going on, as he liked to call it. Lights out at ten p.m. We’d had breakfast and lunch together—carefully balanced between protein and carbs by the team’s dietician. Now we were finally at the stadium.

As I reached down and grabbed my duffel off the floor, my phone dinged. I picked it up, praying it wasn’t Dad.

Mom

Don’t hurt yourself out there today just to make your dad happy. You’re never going to please a narcissist. And getting an NFL deal is not the end-all-be-all in life. If anything happens to you, I will never get over that. Remember that before you do anything reckless.

I laughed, my stomach relaxing. She gave me this same speech before every game.

Got it. I promise to make smart decisions on the field—if I can even move. Ate way too much at the team lunch. Love you.

I closed my eyes for a second as the yearning to be back in Seddledowne with Mom and Colt washed over me. I’d only visited on occasion for the past four and a half years. But it had never been the same since I’d left. The urge to be home was always present, but along with it came the hurt. Any time I left Mom’s house—every backroad I drove down, every store I entered, every friend I ran into—all I could do was hope Anna was somewhere around the next corner.

But she never was.

In four and a half years, I hadn’t had a single sighting. It was almost like she knew I was home, and she hunkered down for the duration. I didn’t know what I was going to do if I ever ran into her. But I wanted it like crazy. I checked her social media occasionally. Enough to know she still had the same boyfriend. But I only knew that because he was in her profile picture. Her accounts were private. She’d blocked me on all social media right after our breakup. Four long years of just a profile pic. I was running on fumes. A man in the desert desperate for a drink.

Mom

I have no doubt you’ll move just fine. Still don’t know where you got that speed. But I’ll be watching every single second, Blue Boy. Love you so much, son.

Thanks, Mom.

The bus pulled to a stop and the hydraulics hissed as the door opened. I dropped my phone into the bag, zipped it up, and stood, ready to stretch my legs.

Once we were outside, Madden and I fell in step together as we brought up the rear. Today the weather was perfect. In the low sixties. Slightly chilly for the end of September, but perfect for playing some football.

“So.” He gave me an excited side-eye. “I heard back from that hockey scout.”

“You did?”

His long legs made it a struggle for me to keep up. I was tall enough. Six foot two. But Madden was six foot five. Probably should’ve played basketball. Not football.

He nodded, holding in a smile. “Yep. And…” He eyed me, looking a bit nervous. “He liked what he saw. A lot. He wants me to come to tryouts.”

“That’s awesome.” I shoved him. “Which team?”

He chuckled. “That’s the best part. At least, I think you’ll like it.” He clicked his tongue, a mischievous smile emerging. “Richmond, Virginia. It’s a new AHL team. Tryouts are over Christmas break. I’d start next summer.”

“Richmond?” A pang of jealousy shot through me. “That’s great.” I pulled my duffel strap up higher. “I’ll have to find a new roommate though.” But then I got a hold of myself because my friend was being recruited to play in the AHL. I wasn’t planning on being here next year anyway. If this season kept heading in the right direction, I would enter the NFL Draft come April. “Dude.” I shoved him. “That’s amazing. I’m totally getting season tickets.”

“You can watch me play whenever you come home.” As he pulled the heavy metal door open, he made a locking motion in front of his lips.

“Got it.” I chuckled.

Twenty minutes later, sitting with the rest of the offensive team, going over plays, Daisy Foxhorn, the team’s publicist, walked up. “Blue, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

I scowled but stood. It was the same thing every week. Right before the game, some superstar sang the national anthem, followed by “Rocky Top,” and every week because I was the starting quarterback, it was my job to jog to centerfield and hand them a dozen orange roses when they were done. Why she needed to discuss it every time, I didn’t know.

Daisy rubbed her hands together. “This week we’ve got a big one. Been trying to entice him here for a while.”

My forehead scrunched. “I thought it was Dolly Parton again.” I’d already given her roses twice last season. I had to hand it to the woman, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her home state.

“It was, but then Ford Dupree’s agent called and said he was willing to do it for this game only. So we bumped Dolly.”

I gulped, certain I’d heard her wrong. “Ford Dupree? Of Whiskey and Women?”

“Yes.” Her eyes bugged like I was stupid. “Of Double Dubs. The one and only.”

I rubbed my jaw. “I hadn’t heard anything about it. It’s usually all over the radio and social media.”

She gave me a one-shouldered shrug. “It was a last-minute decision and Dupree said he’d only come if we kept it on the down low. You may not say anything to your teammates. Don’t text family and let them know to look for him.” She raised a brow. “You know what he looks like, right? You don’t need me to look him up for you?” One brow cocked halfway to her hairline. She had to ask. Three years ago, when Shania Twain sang, Denny Andrews, who now played for the 49ers, ran the roses to the wrong freaking person, even though Shania had just gotten done singing. He’d tried to hand them to her agent who was twenty feet off to the left. It had been all over TikTok along with comments on how stupid Andrews was, and how Knoxville didn’t care what your GPA was. They’d let “any old idiot play” so long as they had talent.

“Uh, yeah.” I scratched my brow. “I know what Ford Dupree looks like.”

“You’re sure?” She started to pull out her phone.

“Yes. I’ve met him before. He’s from Seddledowne, remember?” The only person in Knoxville who knew that I’d once dated Ford Dupree’s niece was Madden. All it took was the wrong person finding out and that would be speculated all over social media, sports radio, and Entertainment Tonight . I didn’t need to give Anna any more reasons to hate me, so I kept that info locked up tight. Anna was tagged in some of my old Instagram posts, but her Insta handle was Huckleberry92. A combination of her basset hound’s name and the year her mom was born. If you didn’t know her, you’d never know her last name was Dupree. The Duprees stayed out of the spotlight as much as possible. Well, everyone but Ford, obviously.

I was surprised my ex, Lacy, had never said anything on social media or to the press though. Then again, she hated Anna with a passion. She probably wouldn’t do anything to bring attention to the fact that the two of us had once been a couple.

Daisy slapped her forehead. “You’re totally right. I always forget you didn’t grow up in California. “Okay. Anyway. The roses will be?—”

“Handed to me by Alexa Shelton.” Our offensive line coach’s wife.

She patted my shoulder. “Then we’re set. See you on the field.” She dashed out the door, on to whatever she had to handle next.

I walked back to my seat, wondering. Was there the tiniest possibility that Anna might be at the game? And if she was, was there a minuscule chance that she’d partially come to see me?

But that was stupid. Anna had to know where I was and what team I played for. My face and my name were everywhere, and Silas watched all my games. She could’ve come to see me anytime she wanted. And yet, she hadn’t. Not a single time in the last two and half years since I’d arrived back closer to the East Coast had I noticed even a hint that she still wondered about me. I shook my head as I sat back in my chair. I couldn’t afford to let myself hope right before a game. I needed to focus.

Besides, if Anna wanted to see me, she would’ve by now.