Page 86 of Make the Play

Knox chuckles and makes his way to the side of the bed, offering Asa his fist to bump, which he does enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you, Asa. I hear you’re a huge Rampage fan.”

Asa bobs his little head up and down. “The biggest. Right, Dad?” he asks, never taking his eyes off Knox.

His dad laughs. “That’s right, buddy.”

“When Corie told me that, I knew I had to meet you,” Knox tells him.

Asa’s mouth falls open. “You wanted to meet me?”

“Of course, I did. You’re the Rampage’s biggest fan.”

“I’m your fan, too,” Asa tells him quickly.

“Really? I guess that’s good because I brought you some stuff.” He takes the tote bag from my hands and offers it to Asa.

“All of this is for me?”

“It sure is, buddy. You know what else?” Knox asks him.

“What?” he asks, vibrating with excitement.

“I thought I could sign a few of those things for you, too.” He pulls a black and a gold Sharpie out of his back pocket, and Asa cheers.

“This is the best day of my life.” His mom chokes on a sob, and his dad rushes to comfort her.

“Asa, why don’t you see what’s in there?” I ask, nodding toward the tote bag.

“You’re pretty,” he says. He looks at Knox. “Is she your girlfriend?” He wrinkles his little nose as if he’s not quite sure he likes the idea of a girlfriend.

“She’s a good friend of mine and works for the Rampage,” Knox answers. His voice is calm, but the look he flashes at me tells me he hates this as much as I do, but we have to stay the course.

Asa digs into his bag and pulls out a jersey, a stuffed Rowdy the Rhino mascot, a football, some pictures, stickers, and a ton of other stuff. I brought one of everything I could get my hands on from our social media materials room.

We spend the next three hours with Asa and his parents. Knox is so good with him. He’s patient with all of his questions and signs everything Asa hands him, even his tablet and his water jug that’s provided by the hospital. I spend those three hours smiling and fighting back tears. Life is so unfair. This little man, just seven years old, three weeks from turning eight, as he keeps reminding us, is battling cancer. It breaks my heart, but it also warms it to see that smile on his face.

Once we’ve said our goodbyes and are in the truck, Knox exhales and turns to face me. “These trips are always hard, but I love that a few hours of my time made that little boy so happy.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“I’ll never say no to something like this. Don’t ever hesitate to ask. My only request is that it not be blasted over the media channels.”

“I’m sure the parents and staff will take pictures.”

“That’s fine, but I don’t want the Rampage to capitalize on it. Use the annual nursing home visit and the million other events for that. Not this. Not him,” Knox says, unable to hide the emotion in his voice.

“Deal. You’re a good man, Knox Beckett.”

“Your man, Corie Reynolds,” he says, leaning over the console to kiss me. “Now, let’s go grab some dinner. I’m starving.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea? Us being seen together?”

“It was a work event, but we'll hit a drive-thru if it makes you uncomfortable. But, baby, my stomach is pissed. I need to feed it.” He gives me a cheeky grin, and I nod.

“Drive-thru it is.”

We hit the first one we see, drive to a nearby park, and eat before Knox takes me back to my car. With his dark windows, he kisses me goodbye, which tells me he really doesn’t want to say goodbye.

I never want to say goodbye to him.

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