Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
For the first time since I’d walked away from Emily in that hospital, I let myself consider something I hadn’t wanted to admit.
Maybe I hadn’t ended things because there was no way through.
Maybe I’d ended them because I was terrified of what it would cost to try.
Ginny’s fingers moved again.
Also, let’s be serious. Coach is trying to avoid bad publicity, not launch you into the sun.
Despite myself, a short laugh escaped me.
Her mouth tipped at the corner, pleased she’d gotten it.
Then she typed one more thing.
And even if the worst happened, you would still be okay. It might be messy. It might suck for a while, but you’d be okay. You are not some guy bagging groceries because you kissed a girl behind a stadium.
I barked out a real laugh at that, shaking my head. “But it could still blow up. With the podcast clip still going off, all eyes on us… they could start to dig.” I swallowed. “You and Mom and Dad might be brought into it. I don’t know, people are crazy.”
Ginny nodded once and typed:
Maybe. That’s life, big brother. We’re all scared sometimes. But we can’t live in the maybes and let fear drive. We have to let hope take the wheel.
Her words sank in deep, and I quirked a grin. “Wow. That was actually very nice.”
It was exhausting. I’d like to go back to making fun of you forevermore.
I chuckled, but then scrubbed a hand over my face. “I don’t know what to do.”
Talk to her, you idiot. Make things right. And stop trying to be a martyr. We love you and we are fine. We want you to be happy, too.
“She’s right, son.”
Ginny and I looked to Dad, who’d apparently been listening with Mom at the doorway. I hadn’t even noticed them.
Mom had tears in her eyes.
“Aw, Mom,” I said, standing to pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, dabbing at her nose when she pulled back. “Honey, your father and I never wanted you to feel all this pressure. Ginny is right — we are fine. Play football if you love it, or leave it all behind. Whatever makes you happy.”
“Football does make me happy,” I said. “I don’t want to lose it — not just for the comfort it provides us, but for the purpose it gives me.” I paused. “But Emily makes me happy, too. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Then don’t lose her,” Dad said, as if it were that easy. “Imagine this with me: Ginny, your mother, and I are all just fine. We go home and get back to life as normal. You tell your coach what’s going on and he says it’ll all be fine. Your job is safe. Emily can still dance for the team. You two can be together.”
He paused then, smiling at my mom and tucking her under his arm before turning to face me again.
“What’s the best that could happen?”
His question was the exact contrast to the one I’d been living under all year — maybe all my life. For so long, I’d only been asking myself what was the worst that could happen.
What if I lost my job?
What if I failed my family?
What if loving Emily cost too much?
But somewhere along the way, I’d stopped asking the only question that actually mattered.
What if she was worth fighting for anyway?
What if the life I wanted wasn’t on the other side of sacrifice, but courage?
My heart was thundering in my chest now, beating a steady rhythm that had me leaning dangerously into hope.
I looked at Ginny, who blinked with the slightest nod of her head to tell me what I already knew.
I had to make this right.
I bent to kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you for talking some sense into me.”
Thank you for loving me so fiercely.
I smiled, squeezing her shoulder before I wrapped Mom and Dad each in a hug, too.
And then I was out the door without a word. I didn’t need to tell them for them to know.
I was going to get my girl.
Emily
The stadium was quiet on Tuesday.
Until my phone rang.
I was alone in the dance studio, running bits of the choreography that I’d been a little sloppy on during the game Sunday. I’d tried to take the day off like everyone else, but it was impossible.
I couldn’t sit still.
I couldn’t live in the cyclone of my thoughts any longer.
Dance had always been a sanctuary for me in times like this, when my world felt unstable and I wasn’t sure where the next day would lead. When I realized a job wasn’t for me and I’d have to start over again, I’d dance. When I found myself with the itch to move again, knowing a city I’d been in wasn’t home, I’d dance. When my parents’ expectation weighed on me and I didn’t know how to deal — I’d dance.