Page 58 of The Silent Count

Rowan gives me an aggressive nod as I slip out from my seat, mouthing a quick, “Thank you,” to my dad before tiptoeing out of the room and down the hall.

I pause in the doorway of the master bedroom, looking at my shirtless, crusty eyed husband sitting up in the bed with his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the headboard.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He smiles before he opens his eyes, patting the comforter on my side of the bed before pulling it back.

I know he’s taking today the hardest out of all of us.

My dad knew his time was coming sooner rather than later, but Fortune’s been weighed down by his injuries from the last few seasons. Playing causes him a lot of pain these days, and his recovery process takes double the time and effort it did half a decade ago.

He’s played longer than most wide receivers ever get the chance to. And at least this way, he’s choosing to exit on his own terms rather than waiting for an injury to take away his choice.

I slide into bed next to him, wrapping my arms around his bicep and laying my head on his shoulder.

He sighs, and I swear I can feel my heart crack wide open.

“Twelve years playing in The League and it all comes to an end just like that. Feels like a lifetime and a blink of the eye all at once.” His words are resigned, and all I can do is nod because if I try to offer words of encouragement, I fear they’ll be drowned out with tears instead.

Admittedly, our team sucked this year. I’m sure it’ll be something we can laugh about later on down the line, but it stings right now, knowing we didn’t have the chance to make the playoffs.

Fortune has played well. Better than well, he's played hall of fame worthy great. At least this way, he went out on his own terms. We had the chance to cherish our last days of him playing in the gridiron. It has been bittersweet, to say the least.

“You’ve had a good run,” I offer with a croak. “Both of you.”

“Are you forgetting the part where this is your last game, too?”

“I’m trying to,” I say with a laugh while wiping under my eyes.

Not only are my dad and husband retiring from the game, but I am too.

I could stay if I want, but the timing feels right. I also can’t imagine continuing to work for the Matrix without having my guys around. The hallways would feel empty, and taking lunch breaks alone at my desk instead of with my dad just seems wrong. So incredibly wrong.

The three of us were lucky enough to finish out both of their careers in Miami as it is. Preserving the memories we’ve made feels like the best option for me, especially since Mae has been my protégé for the last few years. Plus, launching my own PR firm has always been in the back of my mind, and finally making it a reality is a dream come true.

I’ll cherish these last few years working with the Matrix for the rest of my life. Nothing can replace the spot in my heart that holds the memories of getting to hang out with my two best friends in the family box while we watch our husbands win rings together. Having our kids grow up together on the sidelines. It’s been the greatest joy of my life, and I know I’ll hold it close to my heart forever.

Rowan bursts into the room with a giggle that brings smiles to both of our faces. He climbs up onto the bed with an ornery smile and wiggles his way between the two of us, making himself comfortable.

Fortune and I share a look—the kind where you can’t quite believe your kid is your kid, but you’re so happy they are. We might not have planned for a kid when we saw the little blue plus sign a few weeks after winning The League Bowl five years ago, but being parents is the best thing we’ve ever done. It’s healed us in so many ways, and given us grace toward our parents and their decisions. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect little family.

“Dad, I’m going to wear your jersey today. M’kay?”

“Last time, little man. Tomorrow we’re going to do a fun project together where we put them in cases and hang them up on the wall in my office. How does that sound?”

Rowan nods before pestering his dad with more questions about today’s game, but all I can think about is how Fortune is right.

We’re finally hanging up our jerseys for good. It might not be a goodbye forever, but it is game over for now.

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