Page 68 of The Perfect Pass
“Go!!!” Calla hollered.
The players on the Bishop Falls sidelines were all on their feet, running alongside the field, keeping time with the defender, urging him on. Even Bishop was galloping across the turf—barking his encouragement.
The fans erupted into a frenzy. If the spectators in the stands could’ve carried the kid into the end zone on their backs, there was no doubt in Calla’s mind they would’ve done so. But they didn’t have to, because the player’s foot crossed the line all on its own.
The ref threw his arms in the air.
“Touchdown, Bulldogs.”
* * *
The scene on the field was utter chaos as Calla tried to find Jackson. Confetti covered the Astroturf. Players embraced, tears flowed and, somewhere in the madness of it all, she could hear Bishop yelping at full volume. The Bulldogs had won the game!
She paused as she noticed three players dressed in Rustwood uniforms amid the sea of green and white. Her heart beat hard when she recognized them as Stokes, Collier and Brown. But instead of causing trouble, they each extended their hands, congratulating their former teammates and muttering, “Good game.” Wonders never ceased, apparently.
Calla knew that already, though, because the real curse that had befallen Bishop Falls was no longer. She’d tried her best to write it away, and then Jackson had finished it off with a last-minute touchdown that the town would be talking about for years to come.
She needed to get to him. Joy blossomed within her until she felt like her heart might burst. She slipped her hand inside the pocket of her jeans, searching for the trading card she’d brought along as a good-luck charm. Running her hand over its soft edges soothed her and reminded her that this was all meant to be. Ethan had all but said so. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen.
And then she spotted Jackson standing at the center ofthe mayhem, which somehow seemed appropriate. He held a mum in his hands—a whopper of a corsage with a triple flower, green-and-white ribbons that dragged the ground and enough glitter to choke a unicorn. A lump rose to her throat. She’d forgotten about their bet. That mum was for her, and she couldn’t wait to wear that gaudy thing and dance the night away with her coach.
But as the players around her shifted and moved, she recognized the trio of men surrounding Jackson: Earl Whitaker, the athletic director and Principal Dean. Their expressions were serious—far too solemn for a victory celebration.
Her footsteps slowed, not wanting to intrude on something she shouldn’t be a part of. She turned around, but her path was blocked by a crowd of players singing the fight song, arms clasped around each other’s shoulders and swaying to the beat. Calla stumbled backward, missing her chance to slip away unnoticed just as she heard Jackson’s voice, as clear as a bell and firmly resolute.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I appreciate the offer to renew my contract, but the answer is no.”
* * *
“Calla, wait.” Jackson pushed through the crowd, searching for the familiar flash of her red cowboy boots, but the field was jam-packed. He’d never seen a celebration quite like this before—not even in the professional league.
Damn it. Where is she?
He tripped over one of the braided ribbons trailing from the insane mum in his hands—he’d asked Marigold from Field Goal Flowers for the sparkliest, most ridiculous one she had in stock, and boy, had she delivered—and nearly collided with Tommy Riess.
He gripped the boy’s arm. “Tommy, have you seen Calla?”
The teenager blinked, and his megawatt smile dimmed just a hair. “You mean Miss Dunne?”
Two months on the job, and he still hadn’t grown accustomed to using the proper honorifics that rolled so easily off the tongues of students and staff alike.
“Yes.” He nodded, panic swirling low in his gut. “Miss Dunne.”
He should’ve gone after her the second he’d seen the color drain from her face. He could’ve finished settling things with the Victory Club and the school district later.
Now, who knew what she was thinking?
You know exactly what she thinks.
He felt sick. If he couldn’t find her, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.
“I think I saw her go that way,” Tommy said, pointing to the field house area where Calla had spied on his conversation with Harper back on his first day in Bishop Falls.
That seemed poetic. He just hoped that the sonnet they’d woven together in recent weeks still had a chance at a happy ending.
“Coach,” Tommy said, stopping him before he took off. “It looked like she had tears on her face. I’ve never seen Miss Dunne cry before. Do you think maybe she was just really happy that we won?”
He turned hopeful eyes on Jackson.
