gonna raise your blood pressure.”
“First, he plays like crap the entire game, and now he’s, what? Just throwing it away entirely?”
My dad’s angry muttering and the confused rumbles of the crowd fade to silent nothingness as I realize, without a doubt now, that Matt is definitely looking at me.
He’s walking away from the huddle. Why is he walking away from the huddle?
Coaches and players are yelling at him, but he doesn’t even turn around.
My heart is practically somersaulting as my brothers start realizing that he’s coming toward us. He’s coming toward…me.
What the ever-loving hell is he doing?
A low concrete wall separates our seats from the sidelines and the actual field, and my mind is shaky and blurry, and the world is spinning as I realize Matt is walking—no, jogging—up to that wall directly in front of me.
“This is absurd.” My dad stands up and brushes off his pants.
I can’t even look at him, because I’m still trying to make sense of the fact that Matt is running up to that wall, getting closer to me every second.
Nerves and fear and anger ripple through me in a wave, and I try to stay strong.
“I’m going to tell them to play the third string if this idiot just wants to throw the whole game.”
“Sit down, Christopher. Please.” My mom holds his arm and slowly pulls him back down into his seat.
“Ellie! Ellie.”
He’s sweaty and breathless, smears of dirt on his face.
Any word I try to say gets completely stuck in my throat, and the entire rest of the world melts and fades away.
“Ellie,” he says again, trying to catch his breath, slowing his jog to a stop as he reaches the low wall and places his hands on top of it.
I hold my hand to my chest, my brain trying to process what I’m seeing, and wonder if I’m actually just having a dream.
I can barely breathe or think or move, and I know my family and everyone who’s watching this is just as shocked as I am.
The world rocks beneath me. “What are you…” I basically mouth the words, since my voice won’t even make a sound.
“Hang on,” he says. “I’m coming up.” He shoves his hands onto the top of the concrete ledge and effortlessly pulls himself up, swinging his legs over the top and standing right in front of me.
I jump to my feet, forcing myself to keep at least a sort of level head.
I don’t know what in the world he’s doing right now…calling a time-out and jumping into the stands and saying my name. I don’t know.
“Hi.” He looks right at me, those blue eyes burning into my soul and making every part of my body want to melt into a puddle. “Hi, Vice family.”
My brothers stare with their jaws slack, and my mom tries to calm my dad down.
“Ellie…” He looks back at the field where coaches are yelling at him and players are cursing at him, then he turns his gaze back to me. “I’m playing like shit.”
I choke on a shocked laugh, my heart slamming a thousand miles an hour and my whole body shaking. “A little bit.”
“It’s true. And I know I look like a total crazy person right now, but I literally don’t care.” He locks eyes with me, making my knees weak.
I sit still and try to remember to take a breath.
“All of this…” He waves a hand around the stadium, his chest rising and falling under his pads and jersey. “This was my dream. This was everything I wanted and everything I worked for. And now I’m finally here, and—”
“And you’re screwing it up!” my dad interjects.
“I know, I probably am.” Matt nods. “But it doesn’t matter. Because I want you, Ellie Vice.” He shakes his head and laughs and takes my quivering hand. “I love you. And where I come from, money and fame and power and success don’t mean anything if you have to give up the person you love in the process. I don’t want to experience this, any of this, without you. I want to be a father to our kid and the man that adores you and gets to wake up next to you every single day. And…” He turns to my dad, giving him a sharp look. “If that costs me my football glory and millions of dollars and my position on the team, then fine.”
Shock and surprise rock me. “If it…what? Why would it cost you—”
I think the camera crew caught wind of