Page 70 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

“That’s it?” he shouts after me. “That’s all you’ve got?”

I don’t look back.

Because giving him another second of my attention isn’t worth it. Because nothing he says matters. Because Lucy is waiting, and I refuse to let anyone turn her into locker-room fodder or a punchline.

Right now, she’s the person I want to see.

***

Fans stream past us toward the parking lots, carrying blankets, foam fingers, and half-finished cups of cocoa. The marching band is still playing somewhere beneath the stands, the drums echoing through the concrete corridors. Lucy remains close enough that our shoulders touch whenever someone squeezes past, but she no longer looks as though she is searching for the nearest exit.

“You were incredible!” Lucy says as I pull her into my arms. She smells like lilies and honey, and the comfort of her settles something restless inside me.

“I’m really glad you came,” I say, holding her a little tighter. Everything about her—the way she fits against me, the warmth of her body, the way she feels so right—calms me in a way nothing else ever has.

She tilts her head, her smile softening. “My dad already headed home. Aunt Joss stayed with Mom.”

“She’s doing better?” I ask, studying her face.

Lucy nods. “Yeah. The antibiotics are working, but she’s still weak and anxious about being alone. Joss didn’t have any catering jobs tonight, so she stayed with Mom.”

“And tomorrow?” I ask gently, already bracing myself.

Lucy exhales, her lips pressing together. “Joss has a big event, so I might not make it to laser tag.”

“I’ll probably go for a while,” I say. “You can join us after if you’re up for it.”

She steps back slightly, her hands resting against my chest. “I know how much the team stuff matters to you. Joss is trying to find someone who can switch shifts—”

“That’s okay,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “If she can’t find someone, there will be other nights.”

“We usually finish around nine,” she offers softly. “If she can’t find someone else, I could come by after.”

I smile, even if it’s a little tight. Darnell’s warning is still lodged beneath my ribs, making her absence feel more significant than it should.

“They’ll probably still be there. Those guys spend hours playing laser tag.”

Her eyes linger on mine, perceptive as always, but instead of pushing, she leans in and kisses me lightly. “Then I’ll try.”

For a few seconds, we stand quietly beneath the stadium lights while the departing crowd moves around us.

The world keeps asking for pieces of me.

The team wants loyalty.

The scouts want results.

Everyone wants answers.

Lucy never asks.

She waits.

She listens.

She offers space instead of demands.

And standing here with her, the night air cool against my skin, I know how rare that is. How dangerous it might be to lose it.