Page 91 of Hard Count
“We’re almost out of time with over forty yards to go,” he says.
“You ran the forty yard dash in high school in less than five seconds. Snap the ball and run it in yourself. You have twenty seconds. That’s plenty of time.”
“I tried that in the first half and I didn’t make it.”
“That play is in the past. We aren't thinking about that anymore. You can do this.”
Once the ball is in his hands, he doesn’t let go. He slices through the small hole our offense makes and runs straight down the middle of the field. There’s no turning back now. If he doesn’t make it, this is the game. He won’t be able to step out of bounds to stop the clock.
Thirty yards.
“Keep going. Don’t stop now. You’re so close. You’re winning this game. Right here. Right now,” I say, my heart pounding in my chest as a defender starts chasing after him.
Twenty yards.
The clock winds down to five seconds. The fans from Texas yell louder for their defense to catch up but they won’t be able to get my man. Not this time.
Ten yards.
“I’m so fucking proud of you. I always knew you were a champion. I was lost and felt alone but I saw you play andI had something to believe in again. You gave that to me,” I say as he runs past the five yard line and into the end zone.
Tears of joy steam down my face and I jump into my dad’s arms to celebrate. “Good job, coach,” he says, squeezing me tighter.
We rush onto the field and I dodge out of the way when I notice Chris and Trey with the large cooler. I’m not getting that dumped on me. I have one thing on my mind and that’s getting to Nash.
He emerges out of a crowd of players like a dream. He’s carrying his helmet in one hand as he jogs in my direction. I run full speed into his chest. He easily lifts me with one hand under my thigh. “Hey, champ,” I say, pressing my mouth to his.
The stadium is electric as fans storm the field and confetti floats through the air while the Newhouse fight song plays in the background. It's pure chaos in every direction but when he’s holding me like this it's just the two of us.
“Now I know,” he says.
“Know what?” I wipe some of the dirt and sweat off his face.
“What you’d say to me during the game. That’s how I stayed focused. I’d imagine you talking to me and pushing me through every play. And now I know.”
His words supercharge my already heightened emotions. “I love you," I say.
“I love you too.”
“Are you ready for what’s next?” I ask.
“As long as you’re with me, you can count on it.”
EPILOGUE
NASH
SEVEN YEARS LATER
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” I pick up my daughter and lift her out of her crib. “Are you hungry?” I lay her down on the changing table. “Or do you miss Mommy too?”
Drew reported back to work two weeks ago and our morning routine hasn’t recovered. Not that my wife ever truly stops working. Her brain is constantly in motion. It was nice having us all together more often post season.
I find a shirt and matching bottom with ruffles for Reese in her dresser and quickly get her changed and dressed.
“Vroom. Vroom. Vroom.” Kade comes rushing into the bedroom with a toy car in each hand followed by our six year old pug, Pickles.
“Hey, buddy. Are you ready for breakfast?” I put Reese on the ground and she toddles behind her brother while Pickles chases both of them. She just started walking a few months ago but she tries hard to keep up with her brother.
