A strangled laugh came from my throat. “He looks like he’s sleeping. He’s not gone. Wake him up.”
Uncle Darin reached for my hand and spoke to Mr. Gordon. “That’s him. That’s Reid Hubbard.”
Mr. Gordon’s gaze came to me. “Ms. Hubbard?”
“Yes. It’s him.” I took my hand back and moved a half step closer. Staring down, my voice wobbled. “I love you, Dad.”
In the sliver of time I stood over my father, a monumental shift occurred—the buckling of tectonic plates. Earthquakes, volcanic activity, and tsunamis were changing the topography of my life for eternity. Forever, I’d think of before and after.
Without resistance, I allowed Uncle Darin to lead me from the room, down the cold hallways, until we were once again outside. I gulped the fresh air like a dehydrated person guzzling water. Leaning on the black railing, I struggled to stand. The confirmation that my dad was gone was too much to bear, too heavy of a weight.
I was now in the after and going back wasn’t an option.
As a fine mist of rain hit my cheeks, I looked up at the clouds and smiled. Even God was sad by this loss. The heavens were crying. I wasn’t sure why the soft drizzle revived my strength, but it did. It was like the watering of dry, cracked soil—even when life didn’t want to continue, it would.
With the rain mixing with my tears, I straightened my shoulders.
“We need to talk to Daphne,” I said as I made my way to Uncle Darin’s car. I put my hand on the door handle and stared across the roof. “I don’t care what she wants. We need to make plans, and we need to make them today.”
Uncle Darin nodded.
Chapter 5
Fin
The players in the offense film room were quiet after Vee’s announcement. Drew Pratt was speaking, but the usual vigor was absent from his voice. Coach Garcia was present, listening and taking notes, yet saying very little. As the mood turned more somber and a palpable uneasiness penetrated the air, Pratt turned off the video. “We need to talk.”
Every player in the room shifted in their chairs.
“I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” Pratt said. “I’d assume it’s a lot like what I’m thinking. That’s shock.” He shook his head and inhaled. “Loss. Disbelief. I spoke with Reid after the game yesterday. No one expected this.”
A few hands shot up into the air.
Pratt pointed to Ortiz, our running back. “Ms. Maeve said the season will go on. She said that’s what Mr. Hubbard would want.”
An attitude of consensus filled the room with hums.
“But who’s going to take over Reid Hubbard’s job?” Patel, our wide receiver, asked.
Pratt exhaled. “I don’t want to speculate.”
“The Coopers need to name someone,” Patel said.
Pratt looked at Garcia and back to the room of players. “From what I know, in name that will be Ms. Hubbard.”
The approving hum faded into sounds of discontent.
Pratt lifted his hand. “The Hubbards and Marshes have worked together for the best interest of the Coopers in the past. I don’t see that changing. I don’t want to add to the rumors of succession. I can only hope it’s a smooth transition.”
“Mr. Darin Marsh is the most qualified,” Young, an offensive tackle, said.
“Mrs. Rachel Marsh has been with the team longer than her husband,” Coach Garcia added in response.
“Grant Marsh has been here over eighteen years.”
Opinions were spouted around the room.
“I know,” Pratt said, quieting the noise, “we like to think that all there is to the Coopers is our part. That’s not the case, and everyone here knows that. You know who else knows that?” He only paused for a moment. “Every single person in the executive wing. From Darin Marsh to Maeve Hubbard, they all know what it takes to keep a team like the Coopers going strong. Our job, gentlemen, is to do as Vee asked and play the game. Play hard. You have tomorrow off to rest. Spend the day mourning this tragedy. When we meet again on Wednesday, your focus, our focus is on Vegas—on beating the Raiders.” He nodded toward where Dennison and I were sitting. “On Wednesday, we’re welcoming Troy Dennison back to the practice field.”
