“No. Not that I’ve seen.”
Bronx frowned. “What? Why not?”
“I thought she’d be in the box with my family. She’s not.”
“Have you called her?” West asked.
“Haven’t had my phone.”
“Well, go get it,” Bronx said. “Call her.”
“I don’t want to get distracted.”
“Dude, just check your phone.” Bronx scoffed.
I sighed, grabbed my phone from my locker, and stared at the screen—no missed calls, no messages. I tapped her name and called.
Straight to voicemail.
“Guess she decided not to come,” I said, hanging up.
“Shit, man,” West said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s cool. I’ll talk to her later.”
“Listen up.” Coach’s voice rang out, and all heads snapped to him. “We worked damn hard to get here. This is the biggest stage there is, but nobody’s handing out rings for luck or half assed effort. We don’t take home that ring by making bad passes, missing assignments, or giving up free yards on defense. West, you’ve gotta keep your head in the game, make the smart plays—the ones we’ve practiced a thousand times. Defense, tighten up. Stop giving them room to breathe. We’re down by three, but that means nothing if we don’t come out and own the second half. Every play matters. We’re gonna win this game because we want it more than they do. So, get your heads right. Let’s finish this.”
I nodded along as Coach spoke, every word hitting hard. No bullshit. No room for doubt.
West let out a breath, and I caught his glance, giving him a quick nod—a silent promise I’d have his back.
My hands clenched at my sides. The noise from the stadium seeped through the walls, a reminder that the whole world was watching.
No mistakes. Every play counted. I took a deep breath and shook off the knot tightening in my gut. This wasn’t just another game. This was it.
I was ready.
We took the field to start the second half. Coach’s speech was still in my head, keeping me steady. The stadium felt louder.
I glanced at the suite again before we lined up, just to be sure.
Still no Ellie.
West called the play—three receivers to the right, no one in the backfield, a clear pass play meant to open things up and get us going. The snap came fast. I stepped into the defender, got my hands under his pads, and held the pocket. West threw a clean pass, and we gained fifteen yards. First down.
We were moving.
The next few plays were a battle. We fought for every yard, doing whatever it took to keep the ball moving. No flashy plays, just hard work. By the end of the third quarter, we’d managed to tie the game.
The fourth quarter started, and just like that, they were ahead again. They got the ball back and ran it all the way to our twenty-yard line, kicking another field goal.
West slammed his helmet onto the bench. “We can’t keep trading threes.”
“No one’s trying to,” Bronx said, already standing.
Coach pulled us in. “You know what works. Clean football. You stay focused, you stay smart, you win.”
On the next offensive play, West fired a perfect pass—forty yards downfield to our wide receiver. The guy caught it right on the sideline, stayed in bounds, and we scored. Touchdown.
