Josh and Patrick were sucking wind, and Josh said he was afraid he was slowing down. Wes said he’d share the load with him, and Colton made adjustments on their next possession, giving Wes more blocking plays so he could stay at Josh’s side and shore him up.
Two minutes before the end of the second quarter, Mississippi was up by three, and they needed to make something happen to take the lead going into the second half. They ground their way down the field, fighting all the way to the two-yard line before the Mississippi defense shut them down.
After the third down, Colton took a knee in the huddle and said, “All right. We can call special teams out and they can tie it with a field goal. Or we can bust this open and take the lead. What’s it gonna be?”
Josh and Patrick were almost on their knees. Art was heaving great, deep gasps. Even Orlando looked tired, and he never looked tired. “We run it,” Josh said. He breathed in. Held it. “Fuck it, we score now.” He turned to Wes. “Block?”
Wes nodded, and he and Josh fist-bumped. “All right,” Colton said. “Hammer push, right side. Wes, you and Josh. Orlando, with me. Ready?” He waited, giving them as many seconds as he could to catch their breath before breaking the huddle.
Colton lined up under Art. He looked left. Looked right. Wes caught his gaze. Colton winked.
Wes and Josh moved together at the snap, bursting off the line and shoving the defense back, blocking for Colton and Orlando. Orlando rolled right and then made for the hole Josh and Wes forced open through the defensive line. Wes saw Orlando fly by him, then slam into a wall of Mississippi linebacker. Roaring, he got behind Orlando and shoved, pushing him through and, finally, moving him forward.
Orlando came down with his arm over the line, the football inside the end zone. The whistles blew, and the refs ran out, arms over their heads.
Touchdown.
Justin was far too nervous to eat anything from the buffet laid out for the families. His dad was having the time of his life cheering Wes on. Justin just played with his bottle, batting it back and forth between his hands as he hunched in his seat.
He took a walk at the half, wandering through the upper hallways and trying to calm his heart. His hands were shaking, and they wouldn’t stop. He stopped by the elevator and bent over, his head between his knees as he breathed.
The elevator dinged. Justin pushed himself up and tried to look presentable. The only people who came up the private elevator were players’ families or heavyweights from the university. He’d already met the university president and the director of athletics, both men saying, “Oh, so you’re Justin Swanscott. We’ve read so much about you in the news.”
He chewed on the inside of his lip and was starting to turn toward the glass balcony, away from the elevator, as the doors parted.
A man who looked like Wes had stepped into a time machine and emerged thirty years in the future walked out. He wore Wranglers and Ropers, a pearl snap-button Western shirt, and a jean jacket. He had a cowboy hat in his hands, and he was playing with the brim, the same way Wes played with his when he was nervous.
Justin stared.
The man looked right at him. His tanned face was creased, deep lines etched into his brow and around his eyes. But they were laugh lines, not frown lines. His blue eyes were set in deep sockets, and he looked at the world like he hadn’t been surprised in over two decades.
He stepped in front of Justin. “Mr. Swanscott?”
Justin swallowed. “Um. Yes?” Mr. Swanscott was his dad. He was Justin, just Justin.
The man held out his weathered hand. “I’m Graham Van de Hoek. I’m sorry I’m late. The bus can be awful slow from West Texas. I’ve been listenin’ to the game on my phone. We just took the lead?”
Justin nodded. He couldn’t breathe.
Wes’s dad smiled. “Can you show me where we can watch my boy play?”
“Of course.” He stumbled forward, suddenly dizzy, and Graham caught him and steadied him. He looped Justin’s hand around his elbow and left it there as they started walking. They went arm in arm down the hallway, back to the VIP suite. His dad was outside waiting for him, texting, and he looked up when Justin approached. He frowned when he saw Justin