arm in arm with another man. Then his eyes widened and he stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Nick Swanscott. Justin’s father.”
“Graham Van de Hoek.” Graham shook his hand. “It seems our boys are in love.”
His dad laughed. “They are very much in love.” He gestured toward the door to the suite. “The second half is about to start. Join us?”
“I’d love to. Thank you.” Graham tipped his head like he was tipping his hat, exactly like Wes did. Justin’s heart squeezed.
His dad led Graham to the front row of the box, to the seats that overhung the mezzanine, and they started a play-by-play run-through of the first half, reliving the good parts and the belly-clenching ones. Justin grabbed three beers and brought them back, then sat on the other side of Graham. He tried to smile as he handed Wes’s dad a beer.
Graham peered at him for a long moment. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he clapped his hand on Justin’s arm and chuckled.
Justin couldn’t take a single sip of his beer during the second half, either. He was too focused on the game, on watching Wes move on the field. And on Graham, and how he was watching Wes just as intently, following his son’s every movement up and down the field and on the sideline. He and Graham weren’t following the football like his dad was. They were following Wes. Watching Wes on the sidelines. Watching Wes talk to Colton. Watching Wes grab his helmet and jog back onto the field.
By the end of the third quarter, the game was tied again, and it was getting rough. Tackles were harder. Players were thrown to the ground and were chewing dirt when they came up. The Mississippi defense, after the half, had found a way to contain Wes, and Colton wasn’t able to pass to him as much throughout the third. Colton focused instead on running plays and on deep passes, but it wasn’t enough to break the deadlocked score.
Justin was a mess by the middle of the fourth. He was sitting forward, his elbows on his knees and his face half buried in his hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Wes, not for a single moment. His heart was going to explode before the game was over.
Graham’s hand landed on his shoulder. It was solid, and firm, and as weighty as Wes’s was. “My boy will bring them home,” Graham said. “He always does. You just wait. You’ll see.”
On the next drive, Wes lined up in the backfield, in the fullback position behind Colton. When the ball was snapped, Colton faked a handoff to Orlando, then spun and scooped it to Wes. Wes took off, hauling ass through a hole that appeared between Josh and Art, then juked right and spun out of a diving tackle from the middle linebacker. He danced forward, almost falling, but kept his footing. Quinton appeared in front of him, motioning him forward, and Wes put on a burst of speed. He and Quinton tore down the field, right up the sideline, and all the way into the end zone.
Justin and his dad leaped to their feet, along with what felt like everyone else in the stadium, and bellowed Wes’s name at the top of their lungs. Everyone save for Graham, who stayed seated, though he was beaming from ear to ear. He lifted his hat on his knee and bounced his heel up and down. “That’s my boy,” he said. “That’s my boy. You show them, son. You show them who you are.”
Justin broke down and cried as Wes’s entire line chased him to the end zone. Colton leaped into Wes’s arms, and Josh and Patrick hoisted Wes into the air. Quinton and Devin and Art clapped him on the shoulder, and he jogged off to the sidelines to a hero’s welcome from the rest of the team and his coaches. He still had the ball in his hands, the one he’d scored with, and he held on to it as he sat on the bench, spinning it in his hands. He turned his gaze up to the VIP box.
I love you, Justin mouthed, even though Wes couldn’t see him. I fucking love you.
Justin took Graham’s hand in his for the point-after kick, and then he didn’t breathe for the next seven minutes. Every play by Mississippi made his heart stutter and stop. He fell sideways against Graham’s shoulder, gasping when Mississippi lost first one and