“I don’t have a lot of time,” I told him as if he were going to keep me. We both knew he had a game to go win. “And if this is another apology, please don’t. Just let it go.”

  He shifted his feet and seemed almost nervous. “I want to be friends. My original offer—or request—still stands.”

  What?

  “Why?”

  He sighed and ran his hands through his messy dark hair. “Because I want to be friends with you. I believe you. I feel like shit about the way I treated you when you first came back into town and the fact that I turned on you two years ago. I was young. That’s the only excuse I have. But I know better now. My team doesn’t get to tell me who I choose to be friends with.”

  He sounded so determined I wondered if he was trying to convince himself of all this. And why he felt the need to come see me before his game when this could wait.

  “You’ve got a championship to win,” I reminded him. He’d been pretty set on that the other night.

  “Yeah, I do. But that shouldn’t stop me from doing what is right.”

  So I was what was right. That made me feel like a charity case. The kid at the lunch table with no friends. Something he had learned in Sunday school as a kid. Be kind to those in need. Well, I wasn’t in need. I was perfectly fine.

  “I don’t need your guilt friendship. I’m better than that. But thanks anyway,” I said, then turned to head back inside. This conversation was over as far as I was concerned.

  “Wait. Don’t. It’s not guilt,” he called out, but I knew the truth even if he didn’t. “The truth is I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  I stopped. Well, that was definitely a turn I hadn’t expected.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, looking back at him.

  He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “I think I need you. A friendship that isn’t based on my performance on the field or getting into the best party. A real one. That means something.”

  Now, this was going to be harder to argue or walk away from. I’d been vulnerable at his house the other night, and he was now doing the same with me. It had just taken him time to think it through.

  “Why now? Why not when the season is over?”

  I can honestly say that I was worried about the other guys and this stupid football game now. Not because I wanted them to win but because I wanted Brady to win. I wanted him to get that future he’d worked so hard for. Why did I want all that? God, I was getting feelings for him. All this crap around us, and I was starting to care about Brady Higgens’s happiness.

  “Football can’t make all my decisions in life for me. If I let it, then I’m not fighting for my dream; I’m letting my dream own me. I should own it.”

  I stood there in silence and let his words really sink in. He meant this. I respected him for it. But I still wanted to protect him.

  “Then let your new friend make a decision for you. Wait. Give this season time to play out. Then we can try the friendship thing.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to wait. I can’t.”

  His determination was . . . cute. Admirable but cute.

  “Then let’s be friends in secret for a few more weeks,” I suggested.

  He frowned and looked like he was going to argue again.

  “Just think about it. Go win tonight’s game and let the pros and cons play through your head this weekend. If you’re still dead set on blowing up the town, we will go to the Den and eat burgers Monday night. But if you see reason like I do, you’ll drive two towns over and meet me for pizza.”

  A smile slowly spread across his face. “Can I have your number, then?”

  As if a female could say no to that.

  By Three Touchdowns

  CHAPTER 18

  BRADY

  Getting my head completely in the game was hard, but seeing the fans who had driven out here in the stands, cheering with their banners held high and their cowbells ringing, reminded me of the importance of tonight. I wasn’t out here worried about a girl who I couldn’t stop thinking about. She was okay now. We were okay. And the idea of a future for us excited rather than scared me. I was ready to win this game now. This wasn’t just my future weighing the balance. It was all of ours. Even those of us who would hold this as our last memory of football. It would mean something.

  By halftime we were down a touchdown. The Panthers were tough, and even with all the prep work, we were having to be on our very best game to keep up with them. West slung his helmet across the field house as he let out a string of words that I knew Coach would overlook. We hadn’t played a game this hard all season.

  Gunner slammed his fist into the old, beat-up lockers that were reserved for the Panthers’ opposing team. He didn’t let a string of curses fly from his mouth, but he continued to beat the locker a few more times before resting his forehead on it. We had two quarters left to change this.

  Coach would talk to us and remind us who we were and what we’d come here for. He was good at halftime talks. I could count on him to get the team’s heads back up and ready to go fight.

  There would be roars and fists in the air as we charged back onto the field. This wasn’t the first halftime we had been behind. It was just the first time we had been shaken. The way we had played tonight should have had us a touchdown or more ahead. Not behind.

  “Where is your head tonight?” Gunner asked me as he lifted himself up from the locker he’d been leaning on.

  Was he blaming me for this? “Not sure what you mean by that,” I replied, anger slowly building inside me. The accusation on his face was enough to tell me he was pointing at me instead of all of us. “This is a team. Where is your head?” I shot back.

  “Fuck that. You’ve got the ball. You run the team. And I’ve been playing ball with you since we were kids. Your head isn’t with us out there. So where the fucking hell is it? Because we need it on that field.” He was yelling now.

  “Back off, Gunner,” West said, stepping up between us. Nash and Asa had also moved closer to us. As if a fight was about to start and they all needed to be there to break it up.

  “No! He is going to lose us this game. His head isn’t there, and we need it!” Gunner yelled. “Hunter is a damn sophomore and not ready for this. We can’t hand the game over to him. We need Brady to get it together before we walk back onto that field.”

  I wanted to get in his face and tell him just where he could shove his accusation. The idea of slamming my fist into his face was also appealing. However, he was right. My head wasn’t completely there. Gunner was the only one with balls enough to point it out.

  “Go drink some water and calm down,” Asa told Gunner. They all thought we were about to tie up. Any other time, I just might do it. But tonight Gunner was right. This was my fault. Admitting it hurt, but it was true.

  “What’s going on out there, boys?” Coach asked as he entered the field house. The local media had stopped him for an interview on his way to us, so he’d missed the confrontation.

  Everyone but Gunner turned to look at Coach while Gunner’s eyes stayed glued to me. He was waiting on his answer. He wasn’t getting one because the truth would cause more than just me messing up. Hell would break loose.

  “I’m off tonight,” I replied to Coach’s question while keeping eye contact with Gunner. “This is all on me.”

  That was the first moment I’d had to do this in a locker room in all the years I’d been playing. It had never been me. It had always been someone else I had to talk out of whatever funk they were dealing with. This was hard. Like admitting I was a failure.

  “Then let’s fix this. You’re the best senior quarterback in Alabama, Brady. Or did you forget that?” Coach replied.

  I hadn’t forgotten. I may not agree, but I hadn’t forgotten the title had been given to me in the latest stats. If I lost this, Riley would blame herself. This wasn’t her fault. It was mine. This wasn’t just for me; it was for this entire team and our town.

  “I’m ready,” I told him.

  Coach nodded and started in on his plan for the next half. Now we had seen the Panthers’ play and their strategy, we had to adjust ours. I soaked it in and managed to put Riley Young out of my mind. Tonight I had a lot to prove. Especially now.

  As we ran back onto the field, Gunner came up beside me. “We’ve got this.”

  That was his way of apologizing. Making sure we were okay.

  I nodded in agreement. Because we were. We’d win this game tonight. Then we would prepare for next week. It was almost at an end for us and Lion football. Graduation would be our next step.

  I was ready for the future, but the smell of the fresh-cut grass and the cheer in the crowd while the guys who learned to play football with me when we were kids were all huddled around me—that would be missed. We’d never get that back.

  Because of them, because of that memory and all the others that went with it, I gave everything I had and then some I didn’t know I had. With each play called, I focused harder than ever. I drowned out the roar of the fans. I ignored the pop shots called at me from the other team. I had one mission. One drive. To win this game.

  And we did. By three touchdowns.

  I Owe Tonight to You

  CHAPTER 19

  RILEY

  If I said I went to bed without staying up to watch the news, I would be lying. I was nervous. I had never been nervous over a football game in my entire life. But I was now. I had barely been able to eat dinner, but I had forced myself to so my mother wouldn’t question me. Typically I had a great appetite.

  Dad was sitting in his recliner with his feet propped up and one of the many blankets my grandmamma had knitted thrown over his legs. His evening bowl of cereal was in his hands as he watched the local news come on. I never watched the news with him, so I tried very casually to walk in and take a seat on the sofa.

  Mom was much more observant, so I was thankful tonight she was soaking in a bath at the moment and not out here watching the news with him. She’d question my being out here.

  “You still awake?” he asked as if I went to bed early every night. I normally went to my room relatively early, but rarely to sleep. I’d play a game on my phone or read a book. Those sorts of things.

  “Yeah,” I replied, hoping he left it at that. Normally my dad wasn’t a big talker. But when he had something to say, it was always important. He didn’t waste words. That’s what Mom always said about him.

  Thankfully the reporter started talking about gas prices, and Dad fell silent. I could hear him eat the crunchy flakes in his bowl and was glad he had something else to do with his mouth other than talk.

  After they covered soaring gas prices, a house burning down in a neighboring town, and the president’s new insurance plan, they finally played the clip of a football flying through the air, which meant the local teams’ scores were about to be posted.

  “The Lawton Lions have done it again” were the first words out of the news anchor’s mouth, and I let out an actual sigh of relief. The lady droned on to say that Brady Higgens had struggled through the first half but he’d come back in the second half and owned the game. The Panthers hadn’t been ready for him, or at least that was the Panthers’ coach’s take on it when they asked him. He seemed impressed, and although he was sweating and tired-looking from the game, he agreed that Higgens was the best quarterback in the state. He’d now experienced it and looked forward to following the boy’s career.

  A little burst of pride welled up in me, and that was silly, but it was the truth. We had been friends as kids but not anything special. I had been friends with all of them. Brady had always been the leader, even when we’d all been playing together on the swing set at the park.

  It made sense that he was the leader now. I stood up to leave when the recaps of tonight’s game moved on to something else.

  “Guess you can sleep now knowing that boy had a good game,” Dad said as I was leaving the room.

  I paused and winced. I was a little obvious walking out just after that news. “He was nervous and possibly the only friend I’ll ever have in this town.”

  That was the best explanation I had, and it was the truth.

  “He’s a good kid. Talented athlete. But I will say I’m more proud of him for ignoring the rest of them and reaching out to be your friend anyway. He has a lot riding on him, so to see him take a stand like this gives me hope for that bunch after all. Brady is their leader. They may buck him at first but eventually . . .” He trailed off.

  I wasn’t going to think that way, nor would I get my hopes up. Brady couldn’t take away all the hate that was set in from what happened with Rhett. I often wondered, would this all have been better if I had just left town and not told anyone? I would never know the answer to that, and figured that was okay. I didn’t need to know. My life had turned out the way it was supposed to. I was a firm believer in fate. So far fate had given me Bryony and I couldn’t complain. She was perfect. My perfect.

  “Good night, Dad,” I said before leaving this time.

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  I went down the hall and slowly eased the bedroom door open so I wouldn’t wake my sleeping princess. She was curled up into a ball with most of the covers, and I loved watching her like this. She was safe and secure in the life I’d given her. She knew nothing about how she was conceived or the pain that had followed it. There was no need for her to know.

  Bending down, I kissed the top of her head, and the sweet smell of baby shampoo met my nose. I loved smelling her. The house had smelled like this—baby—when I had brought her home from the hospital. That smell reminded me of sleepless nights but also of first smiles, first kisses, first words, and first steps. I loved everything about that smell. I often wondered if I could convince her to keep using the same shampoo into her teen years. I doubted it, but there was always hope.

  My phone was sitting on the nightstand. Although it was on silent, the screen lit up the room. I never got texts or calls unless they were from my parents. The only person who had my number now was on a bus celebrating a victory.

  I hurried around the bed and picked it up.

  Brady’s name appeared, so I swiped my finger over the screen and read his words.

  Thank you. I owe tonight to you.

  That wasn’t true. He owed tonight to the fact that he was a star. I had nothing to do with it.

  I seriously doubt that, but congratulations, I replied.

  He would be leaving town this summer. Going off to live his dreams. And I would be here with my parents until I could get a place of my own in a town where I could start over and have a life.

  If you hadn’t talked to me today, I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate, he replied.

  Had my going over to his house really bothered him that much? I wanted to let the flutters in my stomach fly free and enjoy this, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t a girl in high school who could flirt and have fun. I was a mom and a daughter with responsibilities. I lived a life he didn’t understand and I didn’t expect him to fit into.

  “Enjoy your win. I watched the news. You deserved it.”

  I didn’t wait for him to reply. I turned my phone over and laid it down. Young girls’ fantasies were not for me.

  Fun Game Last Night, Huh?

  CHAPTER 20

  BRADY

  Saturdays after a game I should sleep in. However, sleep didn’t come easily last night, and the smell of bacon woke me up earlier than I’d have liked. I reached for my phone and checked to see if Riley ever responded to my last text. She didn’t.

  Jerking on a pair of sweats, I headed downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. My mom was piling up a stack of pancakes with her pink-and-white apron tied around her waist. I had bought it for her five years ago for Mother’s Day with money I’d made mowing grass. She wore it all the time.

  “Morning,” I said as I headed over to the fridge to get the milk.

  “You’re up early. I expected you to sleep until noon,” she teased.

  I hadn’t slept until noon, well . . . ever. She knew better. “I smelled the bacon,” I told her. “A man can’t sleep when there is bacon.”

  That got a laugh from her.

  Mom had always been that mom. The one who made our lunches and cooked us breakfast. The mom who made cookies and let me have a den full of guys over. She believed in me and was proud of me. In return I wanted to continue to make her proud. I had been given a mom most guys weren’t lucky enough to have. At least not in my group of friends. I was lucky that way. Not a lot of moms were as perfect as mine. For example, Gunner’s mom. I wasn’t even sure she deserved that title. She hadn’t done much for him in life.

  “You sore from last night?” Mom asked as she placed a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table for me.

  I had a few sensitive spots but nothing worth mentioning. Those were from some ringers in the first half that I deserved. My head hadn’t been where it needed to be. “I’m good,” I assured her.

  She smiled at me, then went back to the pancakes. “I saw the hits you took in the second quarter. You’re bound to have a few bad spots.”

  I shrugged and reached for the syrup to coat my pancakes in. “Dad still in bed?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “No, you know your dad. He got up early and headed to the office. Said he needed to get caught up on things, and he’d see us at dinner. I’m sure he’ll be ready to talk football by then.”

  My dad always had to be doing something. He worked a lot, and being idle wasn’t even in his vocabulary. He was funny like that.

  I started to make a joke about it when my phone screen lit up. I grabbed it and saw Riley’s name. I glanced back to make sure Mom wasn’t looking my way before opening the text. Not that she would disapprove. I knew she liked Riley. Mom was the least judgmental person I knew. But I didn’t want my parents to know yet. Not about my friendship with Riley. I was still holding that close. Just for me.