Stella and Ansel both fall back onto the floor, absolutely losing it—full-on hysterical laughter echoing through the speaker like I’m the punchline to some inside joke I never meant to tell.
And I just stand there. Burned a sandwich on the stove. Hard dick in my sweats.
Drenched in shame and, apparently, comedy gold.
The next week, Stella and I are both running from sunup to sundown. We don’t have a moment to breathe, texts are sporadic, and video chats are nonexistent.
Virginia Prep is full of boisterous energy. The winter holidays are approaching, which means everyone is finishing up theirfinals. The whole school is excited about the championship game.
Coach Headstrom has been fielding calls left and right, trying to get interviews from us and the team.
We are reviewing the final red zone plays for the fifth time when my phone buzzes on the desk. I glance at the name and nearly drop the thing.
Coach Lion
I answer it quickly, trying not to sound as surprised as I am. “Coach?”
His voice hasn’t changed—still gravel and authority, like whiskey poured over stone. “D’Angelo. Heard your boys made it to the big one.”
I let out a breath. “Yeah. They earned it.”
He hums, then gets right to it. “I’ve been watching your QB. Maddox. Kid’s got vision. Pocket presence. He reads coverage like a junior in college, not a high school senior.”
I lean back in my chair, heart suddenly in my throat. “I know. He’s special.”
“He’s more than special,” Lion says. “He’s what we need. I want to offer him a full-ride scholarship to Huntsville. The second this season ends, I’m sending the official letter.”
For a moment, I don’t say anything. My chest tightens—pride, disbelief, all of it.
“He’ll lose his mind,” I finally say. “Are you sure about this? You haven’t even met him yet.”
“I don’t need to. I trust your eye. You taught him, shaped him this season. That’s enough for me.”
I swallow hard, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I’ll tell him. After the game.”
Lion chuckles. “Make sure he wins it first. Then tell him, you just changed his life.”
Coach Halestrom and I sit there in utter disbelief. Most of our guys started pulling offers back in their sophomore year. Hell, some had recruiters knocking on their door before they even hit varsity. But Maddox? He was the wild card.
A transfer. Senior year. Straight out of a nowhere town in Mississippi, with a beat-up helmet and a quiet chip on his shoulder.
He didn’t think he had a shot—not really. Not coming in this late, not without the camps, the spotlight, the name.
And now? A full ride. From Huntsville University. Frommyformer coach.
Halestrom leans back, still shaking his head. “Kid really thought he was invisible.”
I glance toward the practice field, where Maddox is running plays like his life depends on it.
“He’s about to find out just how seen he really is.”
As Friday approaches, we decided these kids know what they are doing. They have been putting in the time and practice. So instead of running drills, watching highlight reels. We go to the auditorium and watch The Blind Side instead. We have some good, healthy snacks and drinks, and everyone is having a fun time.
After the movie, we all get dressed in our game day outfits and head back to the University of Southern Virginia’s football field.
The team makes their walk of fame through the cheering crowd, soaking in the noise, the energy, and the weight of what’s ahead. They head straight to the locker room.
I stand in front of them—game day suits now traded for uniforms, helmets resting at their feet. I look around, not just at players, but atmy boys. My family. The room is quiet.
