He laughed a little. “Glad to hear that offer still stands.”
“Always.”
“Okay, well…good night, Holden.”
“Good night, River.”
The line went quiet, and I stared at the phone in my hand for long moments, then climbed into bed.
It can’t happen again.
There it was. The official end to whatever the hell happened on Saturday night. Just another painful moment like every other painful moment in my life, a teetering stack my sanity tap-danced on. One day, it would come crashing down.
In the meantime…
I wasn’t a praying person by nature, mostly because when I’d needed help, there was only cold silence. But that night, I prayed to whatever God or gods might be listening to give River and his mom a little more time. Another day at least. Let whatever needed to happen happen when the sun was shining and not in the black, indifferent night.
The next morning, a text was waiting for me.
She made it. They’re even talking about letting her go home this afternoon. This is heavier shit than you need to be dealing with, but it didn’t feel real until I told you. Thank you.–R
I held the phone to my chest, almost hugging it. A knock came at my door a moment later.
“Mr. Holden?” Beatriz called. “Venha comer. Você vai se atrasar para a escola.”
Come eat. You will be late for school.
I squeezed my eyes shut as a small smile spread across my lips against my will.
“Mr. Holden? Você tá bem?”
Are you okay?
“Tô bem,” I called back. “Today, I am okay.”
Part II
Ten
River
December
If I’d known it was going to be the last football game I’d ever play in my life, I still wouldn’t have changed a thing.
The Campbell Coyotes were ranked number two in our league, right behind us. We’d already clinched the championship, but winning that day would make us undefeated, something that had never happened in the history of Santa Cruz Central football.
We were down 21–24 with fourteen seconds left, our ball on their forty-seven. Coach’s play was a short pass up the side to our tight end. His job was to get out of bounds to stop the clock and give our kicker a chance to tie it up.
But none of the guys in the huddle wanted overtime. They wanted the win. It was the last time this team would ever play together. I’d been ready for the end of the season for weeks, but a twinge of nostalgia bit me anyway. They deserved whatever I could give.
“Coach called the play, so we’re running the play,” I said but shot Donte a fast, knowing glance. He nodded imperceptibly, and the huddle broke up.
Our offense lined up against the Coyote defense—a row of scowling faces gunning for me.
“Hut two, hut two!”
Chance hiked me the ball, and I dropped back, faked a handoff to Isaiah, and scanned the field.
