Noah chuckles, letting me know, “I might not be reachable tomorrow.”
“Game face, I know the drill by now.” I bite my lips. “Kill it out there, Romeo.”
“For you I will.”
My smile is slow. “Nineties R and B, I like.”
Noah’s grin is downright lethal, and I want to jump through the screen. “Bye, beautiful.”
With a quick wave to the screen, I hang up.
Tomorrow, my brother will reach yet another goal he set out to accomplish, and I couldn’t be prouder.
I know he’s earned it; I know he’s more than good enough, but I can’t help but think Noah helped present him with the opportunity to get to start, and Mason made it his bitch.
“Okay, wings are out of the oven. Chips are poured in the bowl and the door” —Cameron skips from the kitchen, turning the deadbolt— “is locked.”
“Beers are popped open and volume” —I grab the remote— “is up.”
I move to help carry everything to the coffee table and then it’s kick-off time.
On the sideline, we see Mason slip his helmet on, pulling at his collar as he jumps up and down on both feet to keep his blood flowing strong.
Our guy goes down at the twenty, and the offense jogs onto the field, led by my brother.
We clap and cheer, standing too close to the screen as he fills his men in on the play. They break, take their positions, and not five seconds later, Mason calls hike.
The ball is snapped, grasped tightly in his palms, and he spins, fake tossing it to the running back, before stepping back and firing it for a quick first down.
“Woohoo!” We clap.
They get set again, and this time, Mason breaks through a gap, running for eleven more yards before sliding onto his hip to avoid the tackle.
“Yes! Two snaps, two first downs!”
“Oh my god, this shit is looking so good to these coaches right now!” Cameron smiles, downing half her beer.
I pick mine up, watching as Mason glances at the sideline. He gives a curt nod and turns back, pointing to his right before lifting and setting his left foot down. The ball is snapped, and he drops back, looking downfield, but the other team blitzes, breaking through his line.
Mason is sacked from his right rear and front left. His torso twists opposite of his hips, his back bending. His helmet flies off on impact, and Mason hits the turf.
Cam and I stand frozen for several seconds before we snap out of it.
“Holy shit.”
“Son of bitch.”
Panic sets in, and we jerk closer to the TV.
“No, no, no.”
“Ari, he’s not getting up.”
I fold my hands in front of me, twisting from side to side. “Get up, Mase.”
“Ari… he’s not getting up!”
“Fuck.”
Outside of the few who were near Mason, the rest of the team is just now realizing their quarterback has yet to rise.
Brady is shoving his way through their bunched-up teammates on the field as Chase is rushing from the sideline in the same second.
I clench my teeth, tears brimming in my eyes as the fear shooting through the boys blows through me. They get a few feet from Mason, but both are quickly pushed back by several people on the Avix coaching staff. They shout, trying to see beyond the group of people rushing to my brother’s side, but are forced to stay put.
Brady tears his helmet off, lifting it as he shouts in rebuttal, but all it does is draw two more linemen his way. They act like a shield, blocking and driving him backward. He tosses the helmet, gripping his head as he turns away and my hands come up to cover my mouth.
I jolt when my phone vibrates on the coffee table, my chest squeezing as I answer.
“Dad!” I panic.
“Arianna, it’s okay,” he assures me in a low, calming tone. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?”
I try, but it’s choppy and causes a strain along my ribs. “Dad, he’s not moving.”
“I know, baby. We’re watching. Am I on speaker?”
I press the speaker button. “You are now.”
“Cameron, honey, you doin’ okay?” he asks gently, knowing without asking she’s right beside me.
She nods even though he can’t see her, biting at her nails. “Mm-hm.” She sniffles “Good, that’s good. Your moms are both right here, your dad too, Cam, and the Lancasters,” he tells us, and Cameron reaches out to squeeze my hand.
I drop my ass onto the table, and she stays standing beside me.
We stare at the screen as the medics stabilize Mason’s neck, three others crouched around him, his teammates not far away.