He turned his blue stare in my direction. There was no joy in his expression. “Congratulations, Ms. Hubbard, your team won.”
It was after seven in Denver by the time we all boarded the Gulfstream. Uncle Darin and Aunt Rachel joined us on the return flight. We wouldn’t get back to Lexington until after one in the morning our time.
Daphne had the back couch converted into a bed. The rest of us sat farther forward in the fuselage. It wasn’t the same as flying economy, but honestly, even with the reclining chairs it wasn’t that comfortable. By the time we landed, I was ready to sleep for a couple of days.
That wouldn’t be possible.
Our Monday executive meeting would be at ten.
After the exciting win and the flight home, sleep should have come easily.
It didn’t.
My thoughts were on Fin.
I couldn’t deny how worried I was about him when he went down on the field. Or that I felt bad Drew didn’t put him back in after the tipped ball. Thatwasn’t his fault. A defender read the play and got in the way.
Mostly, I couldn’t forget his expression or tone as he wished me congratulations.
I’d been right. Griffin Graham should never have signed with the Coopers.
Four weeks into the season,and the Coopers were undefeated. I was back at my condominium watching our home game we’d played earlier in the day. I’d gotten into the habit of recording it. Thankfully, they were showing me less during the broadcasts. There were usually one or two shots with my name on the screen.
More than anything, I wanted to hear what the national announcers were saying. Overall, Fin had the respect of the broadcasters. Many of the talking heads were retired players who had played against him. That didn’t stop most of them from betting against us before the start of each game. Today’s game was different. The Coopers were highly favored over the Rams.
Fin played the first three quarters. Drew took him out and put Simpson in with the Coopers up thirty-five to six. I was watching our last offensive drive in the third quarter when my phone rang.
The stupid twenty-year-old part of me wanted tosee Fin’s name on the screen. Our communication of late had been limited to names. “Mr. Graham.” “Ms. Hubbard.”
My bubble of hope popped. It wasn’t Fin’s name on the screen. It was Preston’s. My first instinct was to ignore his call and let it go to voicemail. And then I remembered what it felt like to be ghosted. I answered.
“Hey, Preston.”
“Vee, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Fine, I guess. You?”
“Busy.” It was my go-to answer.
“I watched the game. You know, before you, I didn’t pay that close attention to football.”
I scoffed. “The Coopers appreciate your support.”
“Remember that date I promised you?”
“Preston,” I said his name with a weary voice.
“Dinner? I miss you.”
I shook my head, looking around my empty condominium. I didn’t miss Preston. Part of me wanted to, like it was something I should be doing. Maybe I felt I owed it to him after two years. The truth was, I didn’t. “Preston, thanks for calling and cheering for the Coopers.”
“Vee, you look great out there on the sidelines. I should have realized how important it was to you.”
“You should have,” I said. “And it’s okay that you didn’t. Have a good life.”
“I guess this is…”
