Page 84 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

For a moment, I just stand there.

Ray’s watching. Closer than ever. The next few games aren’t just games. They’re auditions.

And somehow, even with all that, Lucy is the first thing that rises to the surface of my thoughts.

How am I supposed to carry a team, impress a scout, and protect what we’re building?

I sling my duffel over my shoulder and head outside. The afternoon air is brisk and clean. My phone buzzes.

Dad.

I hesitate, then answer. “Hey.”

“Dylan.” I’ve missed the sound of his voice. “How’s it going?”

Dad has been slammed at the dealership lately, even staying late to get ahead of the line of cars waiting to be fixed.

I exhale, staring across the practice field. “It’s a lot. Coach just talked to me. Ray’s still evaluating everything. Feels like every move I make is being judged.”

“And that’s bad?” Dad asks gently.

“Not bad. Just… a lot.” I drag a hand through my hair. “If I mess this up, I don’t know what’s next. And Lucy and I, well, things are getting serious. I don’t know how to juggle it all.”

There’s a pause. I can picture him leaning back in his chair, thinking before he speaks.

“You’ve always tried to carry the whole load yourself,” he says. “You think if you squeeze tight enough, you can control every outcome.”

“Feels like I have to.”

“No,” he says firmly. “You don’t. Ray isn’t waiting for you to slip. He’s looking for consistency.”

I lean against the side of the building, letting that sink in.

“And Lucy?” he continues. “She’s not another weight on your shoulders. She’s someone you can lean on. If she didn’t believe in you, she wouldn’t be there.”

I stare out at the empty field.

“I just don’t want to fail at either,” I admit.

“Then stop treating them like opposing teams,” Dad says. “Football matters to you. So does Lucy. They only become competitors if you treat them that way.”

I roll that around in my head.

It’s strange hearing it put that way. So simple. Like the answer was obvious all along.

Somewhere between practices and scouting reports, I started treating everything like it was a balancing act that could collapse if I leaned too far in one direction.

But Lucy never asked me to choose.

She shows up. She sits in the stands. She laughs with the guys even when it’s not really her scene.

Maybe the pressure I’m feeling isn’t coming from her at all.

Maybe it’s coming from me.

“You’ve handled pressure your whole life,” he adds. “This is no different.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah.”