“Not me,” I say with a bravado I don’t truly feel. “I can’t wait to be a pro baller.”
My heart lurches in my chest at the passing fear that my father may not be around then. He’s been healthy for months, and he hasn’t even looked at a cigarette, but the thought that his lung cancer could return…
Dad jabs his thumb toward the long driveway. “You two want a ride home? I’m going to help Mom with dinner.”
“Bray can drive us in a bit,” I say. “You go ahead, Dad. I’ll see you at home.”
“Don’t forget—dinner’s at six.” He puts up his hand in a wave, and he’s gone.
Brayden waits until it’s an adult-free zone before he speaks. “Are you guys going to the party tonight at Hastings Ranch? Hughes says it’s going to be epic.”
“Epic how?” I ask him.
“There’s a keg.”
“So what?”
“So lots of the girls from town will be there. Not just our high school but all over. The whole team’s going. And because his parents are gone all week, he’s holding a second party Tuesday night.”
“I’ll be there both nights,” Dylan says.
Sounds like just the kind of party where things get out of control and the cops show up.
I get that Brayden and Dylan are excited to go out. I’m sure most of the guys on the team are. A lot of them are hoping to meet someone to screw around with or possibly date. I used to be right there with them, no exception.
Being the starting tight end at one of the top football schools in the state has its perks, and meeting girls is certainly one of them. I’ve been down that road on the weekends, and I’ve met my share of interested females, but our make-out sessions only went so far before I bounced. And lately, I’ve always ended up kind of…bored. I like hanging out with girls, and I like to party.
But once my dad got sick, my priorities changed. Being able to actually connect with someone started to matter more to me than a casual hookup. And so far, I haven’t had any luck finding that.
“I’ll probably just stay in with my folks tonight,” I say.
My dad has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning, but I don’t tell Dylan and Brayden that piece. Not yet. Dad’s sure it’s nothing, but he’s been feeling more tired than usual, and Mom and I wanted him to get checked out. Just as a precaution.
“You’re lucky your parents are your best friends,” Dylan says, breaking into my thoughts.
His expression is wistful, and I lightly jab his non-throwing arm.
“Hey, you know you’re like their second son.”
He nods, but his eyes shift with pain. Brayden grabs the football out of his hands and starts running, daring Dylan to tackle him.
He’s trying to distract him because…
Brayden and I are lucky. We love our parents, but we also like them. And they like being parents.
As for me, I feel like the luckiest teenager in the world. My dad is my informal football coach who comes to all my games but never pushes me too hard. He supports my love for the sport, and my passion became his passion. We watch football together, we practice together, and he works with me on daily drills and footwork.
Dylan was right. Dad is my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.
* * *
“More mashed potatoes, Colt?” Mom asks me.
“I’m stuffed, Mom. Thanks for dinner.” I stand up and help her clear the plates as Dad follows us into the kitchen.
“I don’t think I need this appointment tomorrow,” he says for about the hundredth time since he made it a couple weeks ago.
“And that would be a wonderful thing,” Mom says as she kisses him. “To go and find out you’re so healthy that you truly do feel like it was a waste of time.”
