Haha. Love that. How’s Lemon? And the baby?
His wife was pregnant again. This time with a girl.
Silas Dupree
Clem’s retaining some fluid and her blood pressure is a touch high. But the doctor says they’re doing well.
I nodded even though he couldn’t see.
Sending good vibes your way. Did you decide on a name yet?
Silas Dupree
Clem wants to name her Sophie. It’s a terrible idea. The last thing we need is Sophie Reincarnate running around. She was a handful. I’m sure you’ve heard.
I had. Many times. There was nothing like a dinner with the Duprees. The stories they told. I chuckled, just remembering. If you weren’t laughing, you were crying. One of the two. Sometimes both at the same time.
Fifty bucks Lemon gets her way.
Silas Dupree
She’s reading over my shoulder. She just said, “Blue always was my favorite.”
I did a small fist pump. Tyson gave me a chin toss and a “See ya” and left.
I chewed my bottom lip, trying to gather my nerve. I’d been thinking about something for a while. I didn’t know how it would go over, but time was running out. So I went for it.
You guys should come see me play IRL. We play VT in a few weeks. You and the boys could make a road trip out of it. Or you and the brothers.
Virginia Tech was only a couple of hours from Seddledowne. Only an hour from where Anna was going to school at James River College. I knew Silas’s brother Holden loved football. Though he was much older than me, we’d both played our share of football on the same high school field. Seddledowne Stallions all the way. And maybe, if Silas came to the game, Anna would come along. I knew Anna wanted to go to VT for vet school.
My stomach was in a knot while I waited for a response. Silas’s bubbles wiggled. Stopped. Wiggled. Stopped and wiggled again. Finally, after three minutes, he texted back.
Silas Dupree
Maybe next year. I don’t want to leave Clem home alone with the boys as far along as she is. But we watch every game. I know Holden does, too, and Dad. You played great tonight, Blue. Be proud of yourself.
I blew my breath out, my hopes completely dashed. Because not only had he turned me down, politely, it felt like the end of the conversation and he hadn’t said a word about Anna. I set the phone on the bench and rummaged through my bag for clean socks.
But then my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, grinning. But it wasn’t Silas.
Dad
If you’d cut left on that play toward the end of the second quarter, you could’ve gotten another touchdown. Get it together, Blue.
It wasn’t enough for him that, if on the off chance I stayed at the University of Knoxville until I graduated instead of going pro, I’d likely break the all-time passing record. He definitely didn’t care that football was a team sport. He thought I should showboat every chance I got.
I gripped the phone between my hands, my jaw clenched. So many retorts came to mind. But none of them would make it better. My dad couldn’t give a compliment to save his soul—especially when it came to me—and I was sick of busting my butt, hoping to get even one. My entire life I’d done nothing but jump through his hoops, and it was never enough.
I’d made the worst mistake of my life when I’d let him move me away from my mom four and a half years ago. I’d let him pull me out of school, left my Anna—the only person other than Mom who’d ever cared about me as an actual person and not for my athletic talent—and moved all the way across the country, just to make him happy. It hadn’t even worked. My dad was never happy. It didn’t matter how hard I played, how fast I ran, or how many passing yards I racked up. Had my football career taken off? Yes. But because of it, I’d lost the best thing that ever happened to me.
My best friend and roommate, Madden Frist, kicked my cleat. “Ready to watch me dust some old geezers on the ice?” His eyebrow flicked in a question.
I felt the scowl leaving my face and a smile taking its place. “You know it.” I lifted my chin at him. “You driving the Beamer or the ’Vette?” His family had more money than they knew what to do with.
“’Vette. Meet you outside.” He pulled his bag over his shoulder and texted someone as he walked away. Probably a girl. The dude was a hopeless romantic, always on the lookout for The One.
Madden was on an amateur ice hockey team, but he couldn’t tell any of the other guys. Our defensive line coach had a strict “no other sports” policy during the season. But Madden was third string and hardly played, so he felt okay about the deception—and I felt okay about supporting him. Hockey was his love. He only played football because his dad had played for Knoxville and was trying to relive his glory days through Madden.
