Page 88 of After the Snap

The excitement that sent me upstairs to get ready doesn’t last long once I’m sitting on the couch with nothing to distract me. There’s no reason I have to go when Dad can get a ride, and Jubal doesn’t even know I’m coming. Without the rush of the game pushing me forward, seeing him tonight feels less like an impulse and more like a choice I’m deliberately making.

My phone vibrates beside me before I can decide which one I’m supposed to listen to.

Dad

Back in Charlotte. We’re heading to the facility now.

His message sends a rush of nerves through my stomach. Jubal is close enough that if I leave now, I’ll see him soon, and all the wanting that felt manageable while he was hundreds of miles away is waiting for me on the other side of this decision. Old fear tells me I still have time to protect myself, but I’m tired of listening to it.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, pushing off the couch and reaching for my keys. I don’t want fear making the choice for me.

All the nerves I managed to outrun so far catch up during the drive and get worse when the Valor facility comes into view. I’ve spent the last few hours coming up with reasons to be here without considering anything beyond seeing Jubal. Now that I’ve made it here, wanting to see him means walking inside. It means choosing this all over again.

The players are already making their way toward the building from the parked buses when I find a spot and turn off the engine, but I don’t get out. Dad would come to the parking lot if I told him I was waiting. I could still pick him up without ever walking inside, pretending that seeing Jubal has nothing to do with why I’m here.

Easton takes the decision away from me when he spots me through the windshield and immediately changes direction, knocking on the passenger window with the same grin that usually means he’s about to become annoying on purpose.

I get out before he can knock again, and his grin widens. “Callie, you came to celebrate with us!”

“I came to pick up my dad.”

Tuck catches up while Easton is still pretending to be offended and tells me about something Sullivan did on the flight as they turn toward the building. He falls into step beside Easton, and neither of them asks whether I’m coming when I follow them toward the doors. For weeks, they’ve been the ones wandering into whatever space I claimed at the facility and staying there, whether I was studying or trying to get something done. Tonight, I’m the one following them inside for no reason except that I want to be here, and neither of them treats it like anything unusual.

Easton is still telling his story as we make our way down the hall, but I completely lose track of what he’s saying when Jubal steps into view ahead of us. He’s changed into sweats and a Valor hoodie, his duffel hanging from one hand while Archer walks beside him. My attention drops immediately to the slight stiffness in his stride, searching for some indication of how much his ribs are bothering him now that there isn’t a television screen between us.

Then he looks up and sees me, surprise crossing his face before his expression softens so quickly I almost laugh at myself for everything it took to get here. He starts toward me, catching himself after the first step, and adjusts his bag instead. His restraint makes me want to close the distance even more because I know exactly why he stopped.

When Jubal reaches us a few seconds later, his attention flicks briefly toward Tuck and Easton before coming back to me. “Pea, you came.”

Hearing the nickname in his voice instead of reading it on my phone makes the last day apart feel longer than it was.

“I’m picking up Dad.”

“Right.”

There’s entirely too much understanding in that one word, and I narrow my eyes at him even as I fight a smile. Then he shifts his bag, and the stiffness in his movement catches my attention again.

“How are your ribs?”

Jubal’s expression changes just enough to tell me I’ve found the problem. “They’re fine.”

“That wasn’t convincing on television either.”

His smile softens as he looks at me. “You watched.”

“You asked me to.”

“And you did.”

There’s no teasing in the way he says it, which makes the words land harder. I want to reach for him badly enough that my fingers tighten around the strap of my bag, but there are players moving through the hallway around us. Jubal’s gaze drops to my hand before returning to my face, and for a moment, the distance we have to keep between us feels much more obvious than it did when I was sitting alone on my couch.

“Bug? I told you I could get a ride.”

Dad’s voice reaches me from behind Jubal, and I turn as he approaches with his backpack over one shoulder. He looks tired in the way he always does after games, but the smile that appears when he sees me carries enough satisfaction that I know the win is still sitting with him.

“And I told you I didn’t mind.”

Dad leans in and kisses my temple before his attention shifts to Jubal, his eyes dropping toward his side briefly. “Are you heading out? Get some ice on those ribs when you get home.”