Page 156 of The Americana Playbook

INFIRMARY.

I trace the letters as I wait to be let in, but it’s only so no one notices that I’m trying to look through the glass into the normally curtained-off area where I left Sarah.

It takes longer than normal, but I wait. All I can do here is wait for each day to pass until we get to the end. Until I getout.Finally, the lock whirs, and I pull the door open, holding up my hand with the papercut.

She looks at me like I’m crazy. And maybe I am. “What do you need for that?”

“A Band-Aid, I guess.”

The nurse folds her arms over her chest. “It’s not bleeding all that much.”

“I don’t want to get blood on my uniform. Laundry day isn’t until Saturday.”

While I talk, I keep trying to peek over the partition. It’s only when another nurse moves that I see the bed where I left Sarah. It’s empty.

“Fine. Wait one second.” She turns away. “I’ll give you a few so you don’t come back and bother me for this nonsense.”

I nod, but inside, I grow panicked.

“Is Sarah here?” I spit out, and the nurse turns back.

“Who?”

I look back at the bed again, making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. “Sarah. My roommate. She was throwing up,” I remind her. “I brought her in the other day.”

The nurse shakes her head. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

My eyes widen. “Yes. You do. You were taking care of her.”

I know it was her. I remember her shamrock earrings. One of them is missing a rhinestone.

“If I did, and she’s not here or in your room, she’s gone then. Take these and go,” she tells me. “And don’t come back here unless you’re dying.”

I wake with a jolt, my face and the pillow damp with my tears.

Maybe I should’ve known in that moment Sarah was gone.

Maybe I should knownowthat it’s better if I go too.

In all actuality,preseason games have little to do with the game and everything to do with morale. Do we want a win? Hell yes, we want a win. But do we want to see how far we’re willing to go for each other more? Yes.

If I had to grade our team morale following our win against Tampa, I’d give it a solid two out of ten. I’m notmadI didn’t get so many reps. Not in the least, actually. I’m happy I rode the bench, and not just because I didn’t have to worry as much about getting hurt. No. Riding the bench let me take a look at the sidelines for nearly the entirety of the game.

And what I found? What Icounted? Forty-three times Coach got in someone’s face. Six of those were aftertouchdowns. But I realized in the third quarter, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Down the sideline stood Heath. And he wasn’t watching the game. He was watching Foller too.

“I bet you good money we get an interim head coach by the middle of the season,” Josh says, tapping his fingers against his helmet he holds.

He hasn’t played at all—not one down. He also doesn’t seem surprised by it. Because this is what Foller does—he messes with you, even in preseason. Josh might be emotional, but he doesn’t fall for the trap by showing those emotions today. He cheers from the bench. He makes pointers to our second-string center. He leads by example and with heart, and that’s all I think about as I hurry to hose myself off in the locker room so we can get back on the bus and fly home.

Well, I think about that and my wife waiting for me.

“Where is the Mrs.?” Nick asks, as I come out of the locker room freshly showered.

I toss my bag into one of the gear bins that will be loaded onto the plane. “She was busy.”

I look at my phone, trying not to panic when I find no messages from Parker. But I note the time. She’s probably still meeting with Cam and Abby.

“Come here, will you? Before you head out to the bus.” Nick puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me into the tunnel so we’re more out of sight. “Listen, I heard some things through the grapevine.”

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