I Almost Do
Dylan
“Mac, we’ll be ready in about five more minutes,” the provost’s assistant announced, sticking her head in the door.
Mac. It had all started here. In this stadium. His career. His nickname. His legacy.
It started when he was still playing at MBU— the local media needed something snappy— and it stuck. His family never usedit. Neither did Ali, not that she used his name much at all anymore. Not since she walked away ten years ago.
He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, half-listening as Kallie rattled off the event schedule from the corner of the VIP lounge. The room overlooked The Reef where the setting sun painted the bleachers in warm, copper light.
Kallie tapped her tablet. “Your speech is second, right after the provost’s welcome. I already emailed you the updated script, but your version is better— more heart, less institution-speak.”
He nodded, distracted, gaze drifting out the floor-to-ceiling window to the field where everything changed. His last game at Magnolia Bluff had been under those same lights. He’d thrown three touchdowns, won the Southern Coastal Conference MVP, and had Ali in the stands— her voice the only one he could always hear. She’d worn his hoodie over her dress that night, proud and beaming. Had told him she loved him. Had given him everything later that night in his dorm. He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat.
And then came the party a few weeks later after winning the bowl game.
His stomach tightened at the memory. The glow of victory was still warm when everything fell apart. Daisy. Her Kappa Nu sisters. That awful karaoke incident. He should’ve stopped them. He still didn’t know why he froze, what made him hesitate. He was a stupid kid and was embarrassed by what Daisy had done. Ali misunderstood, taking his hesitation as shame of her. He still lived with the guilt.
He hadn’t even known how bad it was. Not until the next day, when guilt set in like a slow rot. He should’ve protected her. Should’ve stood up. Should’ve left Myrtle Beach immediately— to hell with the university’s rules.
But he hadn’t. And by the time he got to Honeyshore, his life as he knew it was forever changed.
“Earth to Mac.” Kallie snapped her fingers gently, smiling. “You good?”
He blinked, dragging his focus back to the present. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”
“About the speech or the donation?” she teased, setting the tablet down.
“Both.” It was a lie, and she knew it. He was thankful for her friendship. She had been part of Daisy’s “big family” at Kappa Nu, studying Sports Management and Business. They didn’t really know each other because she was a couple classes above him, but he ran into her at Greek mixers and formals when he was still a Freshman. After going on to law school at Georgia University, she took on a full-time position at Summit Athletic Management in their Southern Division. Signing Dylan had skyrocketed her as one of their top agents.
Kallie tilted her head, softening. “You sure you’re ready for this? It’s a big moment.”
“I want to do it,” he said simply. “For Altman. For the guys who are still here. For the ones we never knew struggled, and the ones we may not know are struggling even now.”
Kallie’s expression shifted— proud, but thoughtful. “You're a good man, Mac. You’ve always cared more than you let on.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact I couldn’t fix it back then.”
“No one expects you to fix the past,” she said, voice gentle now. “But you’re building something better going forward. That counts.”
He looked out over the field again, trying to believe that. But all he could think about was the girl in the stands who once believed in him before anyone else… believed in him other than his ability to throw a football. The one person he wanted to see tonight, even if he knew she wouldn’t want to see him.
And then it hit him— that feeling. That spark of presence.
He didn’t know how, but suddenly, heknew.
She was here.
The crowd murmured politely as Dylan stepped up to the podium, the spotlight warming his features. His eyes scanned the room— faces blurred in the dim light, smiles polite, but none quite held his attention. Until, across the banquet hall by the windows, he saw her.
Ali.
She sat at a table with people he didn’t recognize, a tall redhead whispering to her, framed by the glowing stadium lights, the sequins on her dress catching the gleam like tiny stars. For a heartbeat, everything else faded— the chatter, the music, the distant echo of a crowd long gone. There was Ali, the girl he’d loved and lost, looking just as striking as the day she pushed him away.
His throat tightened. Years of anger and regret tangled with something softer, deeper. He wanted to cross the room, to say everything and nothing at once. But the moment was fragile, charged— and all he could do was hold her gaze, silently asking if she was still there.
Dylan stepped up to the mic, stadium lights glowing beyond the tall banquet windows. He paused for a breath, voice quiet but strong.
