Shower.
Rewatch game film of the Heavyweights’ defense.
Anything to keep my brain occupied. But none of it works. She’s still there in every quiet second. Between every snap. In every pause between thoughts.
I pick up the hotel phone before I can overthink it.
“Room service,” a voice answers.
“I’d like to place a breakfast order for tomorrow early.” I don’t hesitate, knowing what I want. “Watermelon juice and French toast with strawberries.”
There’s a beat on the other end before she asks, “Anything else?”
“That’s it. Thank you. Four A.M.”
“Yes sir.”
I hang up and stare out the window covered with transparent curtains, thinking.
Even if I don’t eat it, it’ll be a reminder of her.
SUNDAYhits fast in the cold, crisp and unforgiving Kentucky morning.
Bright and loud, the fans are already chanting, “Float like a butterfly, hit like a Heavyweight.”
And I find the loneliest place in the world isn’t an empty room—it’s a full stadium of people when the one person you want isn’t here.
I shake out my hair and redirect my mind to the buzzing crowd, jumping up and down, hyping myself up. The Heavyweights need this win to secure a wild card playoff spot and we need it to get a first round bye.
A game of high stakes.
One win away.
I should be ready.
I’m not.
Matt calls a slant route and the first pass comes out of Greyson’s hands, a pass I’ve caught thousands of times in my life and I drop it. The sound of it hitting the turf sounds like a wrecking ball hitting a concrete building in my mind. My chest tightens.
Here it comes. That shift when my game starts to unravel.
I run back to the sideline when Matt puts in a substitution for me.
“Hey, come here.”
I look over. Sutton stands on the edge of the field, arms crossed, expression sharp. This is Boss Lady Sutton as Greyson says when she means business.
“Really?” she says or asks.
I exhale. “It’s one play,” I say, because that’s what everyone tells me.It’s one play. Shake it off.
“We’re one game away from having a bye,” sheshoots back. “Do I need to call Anna? Because I will. We need this game.”
I stiffen.
“Sutton…”
“Sorry but you’reParker fucking O’Ryan. Wide receiver for the Austin Armadillos. And my little brother. Show them why we signed you three years ago. Show them the guy who gives the fans a thrilling victory. I believe in you. Your team believes in you. Anna believes in you. Just use whatever tools she gave you to block out the noise.”