Page 71 of End Game

His parents will probably want to buy a place for him to live soon enough so he’s not renting indefinitely. My parents definitely can’t help contribute in the same way. My dad had to cash in his retirement fund to pay for all of his treatments—it’s not like he’ll be around to use it later, he might as well spend it now. I can pay for utilities, or food, or something. We’ll come up with an equitable trade. It’s always bothered me, but he’s never cared how much money my parents do or don’t have in comparison to his wealthy family. He likes my parents.

“So it’s a plan?” Barrett gives me a hopeful smile.

I let out a heavy breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Let’s be roommates.”

His smile stretches from ear to ear. “You won’t regret this, babe. We’re going to have so much fun.”

Chapter 21

Barrett

The morning of the Parents’ Day football game dawns dreary and cold. We’re fully into fall and heading straight into winter, and I am nowhere near ready for the six (or ten) months of intense cold about to come our way. I go about my preparations for the game the same way I always do: a hearty breakfast, a stretching session, a quick massage from the team’s trainers, a slow walk on the treadmill, and a protein and carb packed lunch in the team room of the football facility.

I don’t have my phone on me. I can’t allow for any distractions this close to game time.

I wonder what Diana is up to. I think she was planning to take a hot yoga class this morning before she meets up with her parents for the game. Knowing her, she’ll skip lunch to load up on all the snacks at the arena. She loves a soft pretzel, and has told me more than once the only reason she comes to my games is to get at the fresh pretzels. I know she’s joking: she also likes the hot dogs and the nachos she usually splits with her dad, and the ice cream sundae she splits with her mom.

The game goes as well as can be expected. I manage two sacks in the first half and a truly epic hit in the third quarter that takes down two guys at once. There are thousands of people here, but I swear I can hear Diana cheering and calling my name when I bring down the quarterback for the third time on a desperate drive at the start of the fourth quarter. My chest puffs out and my shoulders raise at the idea that my girl is cheering for me.

After the game, I shower with the guys and clean up before heading to the tunnels to meet the families. On a normal day, they have to meet us outside. Because it’s Parents’ Weekend, we’re allowed to bring out families back to see our sweaty, smelly locker room if they so choose.

Diana and her parents are clustered with Sam, Mason, and Mackenzie and the Cavanaugh and Kingsley families. My heart nearly stops at the sight of her wearing my jersey.

Striding forward, I push past Miles and Tucker and wrap my arms around my best friend, lifting her into the air.

Diana squeals. “Barrett!”

Closing my eyes, I hold her to me tightly. I bury my face in her hair.

“Put me down!”

Gently I set her feet back on the ground, but I don’t end the hug. I’m not ready to let her go yet.

“You’re here.” My voice comes out rough as sandpaper. I clear my throat.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says. She tries to wiggle free.

With a sigh, I indulge in one last inhale and release her.

“Good game, son,” Stewart says. He claps me on the back.

My chest warms with affection for the man who’s welcomed me into his house and into his family.

“Thank you.”

Cecilia gives me a hug, too, though hers is a little less intense than her daughter’s. “I’m so glad we were able to come see you play again.”

“Me, too.” I hug her tightly and then release her on a sigh.

Feeling blindly behind me, I grab for Diana and wrap my arm around her shoulders, tucking her in close to my side. Her arm slides around my hips, and I take a moment to marvel at the fact that this gorgeous woman allows me to manhandle her anyway I choose.

“Dinner?” Stewart suggests.

Miles catches my eye. He’s standing with his family and Sam, and behind him are Amir and Wes, whose families couldn’t make it out. Greg’s dad is off to the side on his cell phone, talking to someone that isn’t his son.

“I think some of my friends are getting together with their families,” I say lightly, and his face falls. “Would you be okay if we all went together as a group? The team booked up the steakhouse, so all we have to do is show up and we can get a table.”

Stewart’s face clears. “That sounds great.”