Page 115 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

I know how much everyone wants an opportunity like this.

We stand there in the noise and chaos, neither of us moving. Finally, he claps my shoulder again.

Inside, the team’s already gathered. Marcus and Derek are messing around at the counter, helmets in hand. When they spot me, Marcus grins.

“Sharpe! Ready to embarrass us again?”

I force a smile. “I’ll go easy. Maybe.”

They laugh, the normalcy a welcome reprieve. This—competition, adrenaline, the guys—it’s always been my anchor.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Lucy: Almost there.

Relief arrives tangled with dread.

No matter what happens with football, she’s the variable I can’t calculate. The one thing that doesn’t fit neatly into playbooks or projections.

And standing here, surrounded by noise and motion, the truth I haven’t said out loud yet reveals itself.

For the first time, the future I’ve always wanted no longer feels like the only one available.

Marcus opens his mouth to fire back, but the door swings open before he can get a word out.

Everyone turns.

Greg and Meredith walk in already fighting.

“I told you not to bring that up here,” Meredith snaps.

“Then stop pretending everything’s fine,” Greg fires back.

The room shifts around them. Darnell looks at me and jerks his chin toward the track. “Let’s get geared up.”

As we walk away, their voices follow us, sharp, resentful, familiar in a way I wish they weren’t.

And I hate that a small part of me recognizes it.

The unspoken tension. The spite. The feeling of two people pulling in opposite directions.

It reminds me of my parents. Of the awkwardness Lucy had to endure in Dallas.

Some relationships are built on mutual respect. And some on mutual resentment.

Whatever their mess is, I’ve got my own.

Like how I’m going to tell Lucy about the Larks.

Like how I’m not sure whether chasing my dream means losing the person who feels like home.

I’m reaching for a helmet when the door opens again.

I don’t even have to turn around.

“Dylan?”

Her voice hits me straight in the chest.