Page 23 of Hello Quarterback

He stared me down until my office door opened again. This time, it was Vanover—with a troop of flower deliveries behind him. There were at least a dozen people carrying two arrangements a piece of all different styles. From small and rustic to lavish and gaudy, they had them all.

“What is...” I began while Thomas grumbled something indiscernible.

One of the delivery people stopped, passing me a note. Before opening it, I gave Thomas another glare.

He clenched his fists like he was about to stomp his foot, then turned on his heel, muttering something about, “God damn circus...”

Shaking my head, I looked around me at all the people in my office, waiting on me.

Eyebrows drawn together, I flipped open the paper, seeing a handwritten message.

When we’re together,I’llbe the one buying you flowers. Let them know which one you like best and toss the rest. – Ford

My gaze did a double take between the note and all the people filling my expansive office.

Ford had done this?

Vanover cleared his throat. “Where would you like these, Mia?”

His voice drew me out of my shock long enough for me to look at all the bouquets surrounding me. They really were stunning, all on their own. I walked through the room, seeing them all, until I found an arrangement of sunflowers and lavender. The bunch was so bright and pretty and reminded me of my childhood.

My mom used to grow flowers in our garden and pick wild bouquets to bring to the neighbors. “Ford wants me to pick one,” I explained, then gestured to the sunflowers. “I’ll keep this one.”

Immediately, the room whipped into a frenzy as the sunflowers were set on my desk and then the meeting table. The other delivery people began to leave with their bouquets.

“Wait,” I said.

They paused.

“What are you doing with the other arrangements?” I asked.

The one in charge shrugged. “Bring them back to the shop, see if we can sell them?”

“Can you deliver these to a different location? I’ll cover the cost, and Vanover will give you the addresses.”

The person in charge of the delivery nodded, and then they marched out of my office, going to Vanover’s desk. I askedVanover to send them to the people at the assisted-living center where my parents were and then sat back down, staring at the arrangement on my desk. Hayden’s gaudy delivery was gone.

When I finally met Tallie’s eyes again, she was grinning. “Does Ford remember that this is fake?” she asked.

My heart stutter-stepped, because I had been asking myself the same question.

“It’s all for show,” I reminded us both. “We wanted to impress the people here in the office too.”

Tallie didn’t look convinced but also didn’t argue. “Let’s plan for the next phase.”

“And what is that?” I asked, my eyes drawn again to the flowers.

“Your first real date.”

14

FORD

My muscles feltrawer than a freezer burnt steak when Coach ended practice. Part of me welcomed the fatigue, knowing this was part of being the best. Success rarely felt like effortlessly flying on clouds; it felt like hard work, sore muscles, and being so tired you fell asleep before your head hit the pillow at night.

After five years playing on a college team and the same amount of time on a professional team, I understood that fact. Pain came with the territory.

I stumbled to the locker room, showered off, then went to one of the facility’s small recovery rooms with an ice bath and a television. I left the TV off, instead playing a podcast episode on my phone, an interview with Kobe Bryant about Mamba Mentality. His mindset made me feel understood in a way, inspired in another. Even though we didn’t play the same sport, we played the same game.

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