Page 6 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

“I neverwentanywhere, Chase.”

Chase gripped his clean-shaven jaw. “Well, since you’re ending the season on a personal best, let’s remind people you’re still looking to play.”

Tossing his gear into a bin, Beau made his way to the shower. “I said everything I need to say on the field. We’re done for this year.”

Apart from exit interviews, Beau was officially in the off-season stretch, which meant he wouldn’t report for camp or official team practices until the summer. Unofficially, it meant Beau would train just as hard—if not harder—than he did during the season, taking part in captains’ practices with whomever was in town. But it would be on his terms and quiet—exactly how he liked it.

“You’re not done fornextseason, Beau. You’ve been saying you have one more year in you before retirement—”

“If any team cares more about one interview than how I play, they can light their contracts on fire and put on a show for everyone to watch.”

“Call me crazy, butIcare about those contracts.”

“You should. You’re my agentandmanager. So, manage it.” Beau flipped on the water. “And Chase, go ask someone about that Golden Penny girl.”And her mom.“If they’re upstairs, make them wait.”

Narrowing his eyes, Chase cocked his head. “Why? Youhatesick kids.”

“Who doesn’t?”

It was a valid question, but Chase had a point. The Golden Penny Foundation was local to Dallas, and the Sparks were heavy sponsors, yet Beau avoided events. Some things that meant well came with a heavy, emotional cost Beau wasn’t ready to pay.

Sick kids meant hospitals. Hospitals meant distressing memories, like waking up in one when he was eleven with eighteen stitches in his head and no idea what day it was or that his brother had died pushing him out of the way of a speeding car.

But if there was anyone Beau could be brave for, it would be Sienna.

He stuck his head into the hot stream of water, his dark hair matting as other memories—what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth—flashed before his closed eyes. One stuck out in particular, the last time he saw Sienna. It was over seven years ago, when that young girl, now with the obvious dark wig, was small enough to sit on Sienna’s hip, when her hair was as blonde as her mother’s, so similar Beau didn’t know where one’s started and the other’s began.

The last time Beau had seen Sienna was from a distance at her father’s burial, when he didn’t want his presence to detract from honoring Jack Clarke’s memory. Beau had watched from the footpath along the cemetery, cringing, knowing he had broken his promise to Coach Clarke. He hadn’t always treated Sienna right. He hadn’t looked out for her for years. As they lowered the coffin to the ground, Beau prepared himself to right the wrong and do just that. He waited for the moment he could pull Sienna aside and into his arms, to whisper countless apologies that he had waited so long to come back.I’m here now, Beau imagined telling her.You’re not alone.

But through the waning crowd, Beau saw she wasn’t. Sienna had a daughter—a family—and Beau wasn’t prepared to step back into her life and ruin that for her.

The young girl on the field today—the one who brought Sienna right to Beau’s turf—was the reason he walked away again all those years ago. But on the field, he had seen something in Sienna’s eyes as she tried to avoid his own. There was hope, a sense of longing, and even though it was clouded by hurt and disappointment, it was still present enough that Beau knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away so easily this time, no matter the circumstance.

“Not again,” Beau said, pressing his palms against the slick tile with the water beating his back, bowing his head as if in prayer. “Not today.”

* * *

Returning to his locker ten minutes later, Beau glanced at his phone, reading Chase’s text.

Your GPF crew is in Suite B. On a flight to LA tonight, back in Dallas next week. We’ll talk.

Beau quickly toweled off and slipped back into his clothes, trying as quickly as possible to move through the teammates that had begun to pour into the locker room.

“You sprinted back here quick.” Giles unlaced his cleats. “Lot of people were waiting on you.”

Beau stuffed his foot into a sneaker. “Yeah, I gotta jet.”

Lifting a curious eyebrow, Giles folded his arms across his chest. Giles might have been a professional teammate for only a season, but he and Beau had known each other since college, when they began their collegiate athletic careers at Florida State University.

“Jet where?” Giles asked because he knew better than anyone else Beau had no place to really be. He lived a quiet, single life, and apart from work and making appearances at team events, Beau mostly kept to himself.

He grabbed his wallet and keys, slapping Giles on the shoulder as he moved past. “I’ll fill you in later.” Beau left the locker room, seeking the right set of elevators—the ones that would carry him to Sienna.

“Come on, come on,” Beau begged, gnawing on his bottom lip as the elevator ascended painfully slow. His legs bounced—from eagerness or nerves, Beau wasn’t sure. The drumming of his pulse in the tight space forced Beau to take a deep, full breath when he stepped onto the highest floor of the stadium.

Shaking in my boots. Great,Beau silently sneered as he made his way down the hall to Suite B, where a dozen people lingered. Beau ignored how the wide eyes of the Golden Penny Foundation representative lit up when she saw him. He wasn’t looking for crystal blue orbs. He was in search of vibrant green—a pair of emeralds that mirrored both freshly cut grass in the spring and the pine needles of Christmas trees. Sienna’s eyes weren’t seasonal. They were annual and always.

Just like her brother’s, who was standing right in front of him.

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