As Sloan continued to sing, Darius tapped his foot to the beat and nodded his head to the melody, continuing to slip away the top poster board to reveal what it said underneath.
A pre-game love song for my wife.
Because
She
Means
Everything
To
Me
The last note hung in the air, and the screen faded to black.
I set the phone down on the counter, feeling everything I'd been too scared to feel for Sloan.
"You know." Dad cleared his throat and smiled a wry grin. "I enjoy football, and I've been watching the Stallions this year. Wouldn't mind taking in a game sometime. I hear there's a good one tomorrow."
"Is that a hint?" I asked, wiping away a tear or four.
"Well, if you're gonna go to the game and cheer him on from the stands?" Dad asked. "Maybe you need someone to keep you company?"
As amazing as that sounded, my heart dipped because?—
"I can't." I shook my head. "They need me at the studio in Los Angeles to start prep for recording the album."
"You can't record in Denver?" Dad asked with a frown. "Where your husband is?"
Was that a choice? No one had offered it as an option.
"I don't know, actually," I said, gnawing at my lip.
Honestly, I didn't know. Hans told me where to be, and I made that happen. I didn't even consider that I could have a choice in the matter. But, actually, I probably had a say.
The Dimefront guys all recorded in Denver, so I knew there was a studio there with the capability. I just hadn't thought about asking.
I would remedy that immediately.
"I think I should go to Sloan's game instead of Los Angeles, don't you?" I asked, smiling at my dad. "And, yes, I'll definitely need company."
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
SLOAN
Maya didn't pick up my call last night, and she didn't respond to the video, either. All I got was a note that things got crazy, and we'd talk after today's game. She added a smiley face for good measure.
She had to have seen the video because everybody and their dog had seen the video. It went mega viral, super quick, and fans went crazy for #Slaya.
But that was yesterday, and today, the guys and I jogged onto the field like we always did at the beginning of the game. The hit of excitement from the crowd as they all stomped their feet was a drug that couldn't be replicated.
Our quarterback, Drake Wellington, handled the coin toss for us when the song we sang to Maya blared over the speakers of the stadium. They hadn't used my version, which was good because Coach told me it was a good thing I could catch a ball since I had no future in music.
The stadium went even more wired, even more wild, and I scanned to see what they were so worked up about.
It didn't take me but a second to see that Maya was on the Jumbotron, wearing my jersey with the number forty-one, a blue ZipZing in one hand, and a sign in the other that read:
