Page 19 of Love at Second Down

My lips part, but nothing comes out. My father makes a decent living, but I know traveling to the game won’t be cheap. Part of me wishes he wouldn’t come. It makes the fear of failing so much worse.

I picture him sitting in the stands, decked out in orange and blue and cheering me on, and I wonder what he’ll think when he watches me flop?

I swallow over the fear clogging my throat. “That’s great. I can’t believe you’re driving all that way for me.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s not every day your son resurrects a losing team and takes them to the college playoffs. You should be proud, Damon. I know I am.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, feeling some of my bravado slip.

A beat of silence follows, then, “Is everything okay?”

I straighten, even though he can’t see me. Dad knows me too well. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” I ask.

“You sound . . .” He trails off, and I don’t blame him for being unable to put a finger on it, because even I can’t figure out how I’m feeling. Lost? Afraid? Frustrated? Angry? It’s too hard to tell when my head won’t stop spinning for a fucking second to let me process it.

Dad never said much about my relationship with Avery in the past, but I never got the impression he was thrilled about me seriously dating an Astor. As a construction laborer, he’s worked on projects for the Astors before, so he’s no stranger to the family name. But as a blue-collar worker who’s never had anything handed to him, and has had to work for everything he has, Dad tends to view anyone with that much money as entitled, spoiled, and out of touch with reality.Asshole rich, he calls them. And even though Avery was always different from the rest, I imagine he viewed her through the same lens, regardless. He’d never admit it, but when she broke my heart, I think he was relieved. Which is precisely why I can’t tell him what’s reallybothering me. It’s bad enough I’m getting flak from my friends; I don’t need it from him too, especially when I’m beating myself up enough for the both of us.

“I’m just tired,” I say, which isn’t a lie. Until I ran into Avery, I was fucking pumped, but now . . . Now I’m exhausted. Worn out like an old blanket, threadbare and thin from overuse. It wouldn’t take much to tear right through me. “It’s a lot of pressure, you know?”

“It is, but are you doubting yourself?”

I sigh. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Don’t think for one second you can’t handle the heat. I’ve watched you grow from a boy into the young man you are today, and I know without a doubt there’s nothing you can’t do. You’ve been working toward this your whole life. You’ve earned it, and when you win, I’ll be waiting for you proudly on the sidelines just like I have every other time. This is your moment, son. Don’t let anyone or anything take it from you.”

I swallow, feeling the unfamiliar prick of tears stinging the back of my eyes.

Fuck, I’m going soft.

“Thanks, Dad,” I murmur.

“Anytime. Now get yourself some dinner, get some sleep, and call me once you’re on the bus and on your way to Georgia.”

“Will do. Bye, Dad.”

I hang up and run a hand over the back of my neck, mulling over my father’s words.Don’t let anyone or anything take it from you.

For a moment I wonder if he suspects more than I let on. My father and I have always been close. Growing up, it was just the two of us. My mother left when I was young. I have zero memories of her, and I never minded because he more than made up for it. Which is why I can’t stand the thought of letting him down.

He’d never say it, but if I lose this weekend, it’ll gut him.

I sit in the cab of my truck, phone still clutched in my hand. The weight of everything presses down on me like shoulder pads after a two-a-day in the heat. For the first time all week, I let myself be still. No drills. No pretending. Just me, the quiet, and the realization I’ve been running myself into the ground trying to avoid the one person I can’t outrun.

Maybe my dad’s right. Maybe this is my moment.

But if that’s true—if I really want to rise to the occasion—I have to stop letting the past hold me hostage.

I stare through the windshield at nothing in particular, then reach for the ignition, thinking that’s easier said than done.

Chapter 7

AVERY

Ifinish pumping ten shots of caramel syrup into a cup, then add two sugars before pouring in the cream and coffee, trying not to gag. After handing it over to the customer, I smile and tell them to have a nice day, then wait until they’re gone before I turn to Cara. She’s seventeen and the daughter of Java the Hutt’s owner, which isn’t as awful as it might sound. She’s actually pretty cool.

“How people can drink that stuff is beyond me,” I say with a grimace.

She glances up at me with a smirk. “It needed four more pumps of caramel, didn’t it?”

---