“Blue 22, Blue 22, hut, hut,” Devil shouted, and we broke. I raced to the five-yard line, shadowed by a defensive end, but as far as I was concerned, I was alone on the field, aside from Devil. The ball sailed straight into my arms, that familiar acceleration pushed my feet into overdrive, and I smashed through the tackle’s hold and drove into the end zone.
“Yeah, yeah! Whoo-hoo!” My teammate Dante Williams grabbed me and we hugged; then the rest of the team mobbed me and lifted me up in the air.
“Way to go, Blink. We did it,” Devlin yelled and put his hands under me, raising me higher. Ten of my teammates were touching me, yet I could only feel Dev’s hands on me. He cupped my ass, and shocked, I gazed into his laughing face and sparkling eyes. I slid down, and he engulfed me in a hug.
“We did it,” I mumbled into his shoulder.
“Yeah, we sure as hell did.” A teasing grin split his face. “Catch ya later, Blink.”
Our national championship assured, the press surrounded us, and Dev and I did interviews together and separately. Spotting Momma in the stands, I ran to her. “Momma, I can’t believe it!”
She leaned over and hugged me. “Baby, I always knew you could. Your daddy would be so proud.” Those last words were spoken in a whisper. As always, I teared up at any mention of my daddy.
Theo grabbed and hugged me. “Good for you. They robbed you of the Heisman. Now go sign them endorsement deals and make a ton of money.”
My smile was thin. “I’m always gonna do right by my momma.”
Theo frowned. “’Course you are. I know I ain’t your daddy, but I can still be damn proud of you. And I am. Always have been.”
My insides got all twisted up because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t let Daddy’s memory go. But I held out a hand to Theo, and we hugged again. Theo had been there for all the milestones in my life, never wavering in his support.
Sensing the tension, Momma squeezed my hand. “Brody’s gonna go celebrate with his friends. We’ll see him later. And he’s got that fancy New York agent now, like all those famous people. He’s smart, and he knows what to do.” She gave me another hug. “We’ll talk later. You go do what you gotta do and have the best night.”
“I will, Momma. Love you.”
The following hours were a whirlwind of more interviews and calls with Ezra Green, my agent.
“I’ll tell you exactly what I said to Devlin. Never accept the first good deal that comes your way. You came in third for the Heisman. You and Devlin are top picks—first round in the draft for sure. You’re gonna have plenty of choices, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of. At the moment, the last three teams to win division titles and the Super Bowl are waiting for my callbacks on their offers, plus some teams in their rebuilding phase that are willing to spend the big bucks.”
“Thanks, Ezra. I know my major is business, but I’m still confused reading through all of it.”
Laughter filled my ears. “That’s why you have me. My advice right now? Go out and celebrate with your team. I’m sure you’re gonna have a night you’ll never forget. There’s plenty of time to make the right decision.”
I took a shower and lay on the bed in my hotel room, reveling in the silence after all the hours of noise assaulting me from every direction. We’d been told by our coaches that if we won the championship, our lives would change in an instant, and I had a feeling we’d only seen the beginning. My phone was blowing up with texts from influencers, high school kids I hadn’t spoken to in years, companies offering endorsements, and tons of sexy DMs from half-naked girls. I checked the group chat with my friends on the team, and read that they’d started to gather at the hotel bar.
Lord, I was primed and ready to let loose for the night. Dressed in jeans and an Orange Bowl championship T-shirt, I took the elevator down to the lobby, where after signing autographs and taking pictures, I finally found my teammates. Dante stood up and pumped his fist, then megaphoned his hands.
“Blink. Sit that butt right here and have a drink.”
I squeezed in between Everett Hayes and Lovell Barton, two of the biggest and best tackles in college football. Both were also definitely on their way to the NFL in the first or second round. We bumped fists.
“Bro, you were theman. That catch was like threading the needle. How high did you jump? Damn.” Lovell—whose nickname was Lover because dude had a way with the ladies—lifted his beer. “Here’s to the draft.”
Everett—nicknamed Corvette or Vette for his speed—handed me a beer, and I took a long, sweet drink and licked my lips. “Damn, that was good.”
“Have another, choirboy.”
I peered over my shoulder and met Dev’s dancing green eyes. “Very funny. Aren’t you tired of teasin’ me?”
“Why, when it’s so much fun?”
I rolled my eyes and finished my beer.
Ever since Dev found out I went to church services the morning of every game, he’d teased me about it, but I didn’t care. I needed a bit of quiet time to get my head together before the ruckus began.
“Lemme in.” Dev edged his bulk between Lover and me.
“Dude, get your own seat,” Lover sputtered.
