Page 2 of Always Mine

The music changes as the marching band begins our fight song, and I close my eyes for a moment, taking in a lungful of air. Then I press my glove-covered fingers to my lips before dropping my hand to my chest, right over the spot where the old silver chain is resting under my uniform. I take this time to think about deep blue eyes, guffaw laughter, and stolen kisses on a back country road.

Another life.

The thunderous rush of cheers as the doors swing open snaps me back to the here and now, and I release the breath I was holding, popping in my mouthguard before running out of the tunnel with the rest of the guys.

The stadium lights are like a beacon, calling to my soul as soon as I step onto the grassy field. It gives me that sense of comfort that I’ve long since been missing….Home.

After three years away from Georgia, I’m not sure I can even call it that anymore.

Like I said,another life.

Pushing those thoughts away, I follow behind the guys as we line up on our side of the field, listening to the crowd die off as the announcements begin. This is the time when I close off my brain, putting everything that’s not football on the back burner for now. Classes, assignments, life in general… nothing else matters but this game.

The national anthem comes to a close and everything moves at warp speed after that. I can’t explain what happens once it starts. A drunk girl at a frat party once told me she couldn’t follow football because it was boring and there were too many stop-and-go’s for her to stay focused, which is the complete opposite of how it works for me. From the moment the clock starts until the last second, I feel like it’s only minutes rather than hours. It could be because I’m in the middle of all the action.

It begins to rain not long after kickoff, feeling like the start of a bad omen considering we fumbled the ball multiple times before scoring. Then after rotations, we basically handed not one but two touchdowns to the other team, which ties the score up.

I don’t know what’s going on with our defensive line tonight but when I catch eyes with Jennings he must sense the expression on my face under my helmet because he signals the ref for a time-out.

Thank fuck. We need a come-to-Jesus moment real quick.

We gather together and Jennings does his captain thing, trying to bring the morale back even though it’s almost halftime. We’re now soaked from the rain and ten yards away from letting the other team score again. It’s not going well and this is not the time for mess-ups.

We decide to change the play, and then we break, heading back to our spots. I lean forward, getting into position as I wait for the ref to blow his whistle. When he does, my teammates spring into action. I hang back, watching as the ball gets passed to the quarterback before he hands it off to his running back, waiting for my time to jump in.

The running back sprints and dodges players as I bite down hard on my mouthguard, watching as he makes his way to me. I’m ready, or at least, I would have been had it not been for the heavy sheet of rain that just came down. My cleat gets stuck in the grass and I have to use more force than normal to project my body forward and slam into the other player. Between the momentum and misjudgment of distance, most of the impact is taken by my left shoulder and bicep. It works though, and we both crash to the ground before we’re piled on top of.

It all happens so fast that I don’t even register the pain until a cold sweat breaks out across my body, then it’s like a switch flips. I scream out, feeling the scrambling of the other guys as they try to get off of me. Then I roll onto my back, needing to puke, but when I reach up to pull off my helmet my left arm protests, causing me to yell out again in pain. Black spots dance in my vision and I can hear Jennings talking to me but I can’t make out the words through the fog.

What the hell is happening? My helmet is tugged off and I’m rolled. The next thing I know I’m vomiting onto the grass as I clutch my arm to my chest, trying to protect it. Oh, fuck. Oh. God! Something’s broken. It has to be.

I’ve never felt anything like this before. I see Coach Pallon and Jennings above me, but it’s like I’m looking at them through a tunnel. The world around me is narrowing with each passing second, and I shut my eyes, knowing that passing out is inevitable.

I feel a sharp sting to my cheek but it does nothing to bring me back. I’m slipping away too quickly. My thoughts flash like I’m watching one of those old black-and-white films.

“Prescott. Prescott.” I hear my last name being called over and over, but I can’t open my eyes. Everything is spinning and flickering so fast.

It spins and spins before halting completely, drowning me in memories that I’ve spent years trying to suppress. Memories that are almost as painful as whatever is happening in my arm.

I try to fight it, try to push it all away, but it’s impossible. I’m completely submerged in the deep end with no rescue in sight, and my mind spirals and my heart slows as I see myself— freshly eighteen, sitting on the tailgate of my daddy’s blue, beat-up Chevy way past curfew, hiding behind old man Rogers farm with my first and only love.

The one I let get away.

Wyatt Clayton.

ONE

Wyatt

I’m barely ten minutes into my ‘shift’ when I start questioning all the life choices that got me to this point. Sometimes I wonder if I do these things to torture myself or if I’m trying to prove to everyone that I’ve moved on with my life. Either way, my inability to say no is what gets me into situations like these.

“Wyatt, can you grab Billy another beer and get some ice from the back, please? I’m running low.” Ember, my older sister, calls out from the other side of the bar. A bar that I haven’t officially been working at… well,ever, but somehow, I still get roped into helping whenever she’s in a bind.

My sister is the manager of Red’s Bar and Grill, which is currently packed due to the football game. It's also horrendously understaffed because several employees are now back in college after working over the summer. So, here I am—her whipping boy, once again. It comes with the territory when you’re the baby of the family.

I nod my head, passing a bottle of Bud to Billy before heading to the back to grab the ice. The bar is already buzzing since the game’s about to start, and I try to ignore the floppy feeling in my stomach at that thought. It’s insane how back and forth my emotions run during this time of year. While I love the holidays and all the town's festivities that come with the season change, I dread the one thing everyone in this here can’t seem to get enough of.

Football.

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