Chapter Two

It all came down to this last play.

Seven seconds to throw the ball into the end zone and score a touchdown.

“Ideas?” Crew asked, while they all stood in a huddle.

“Play-action,” Kaiden Demay suggested.

“They’ll be watching for a fake play,” another player said.

“Not to me,” Kaiden replied. “They’ll be expecting you to throw me the ball. I can draw their attention, while Crew passes to Regan.”

All eyes looked at Regan, who was an offensive guard.

“Me?” he asked, looking a little perplexed.

Crew nodded, liking the idea. “No one will think about covering you. All right. On the snap, Kaiden, you take off to the left and Regan to the right and get in the end zone. I’m passing to you, big guy.”

“I’ll win us the game,” Regan assured.

Crew smiled. “Then one, two, break!”

They all clapped and lined up on the three-yard line. Seven seconds. His heart pounded in his chest, but his hands were steady. He gave one last look at his teammates, being sure he didn’t bring attention on Regan. Then he got into position.

“White eighty!” he yelled.

The snap came back, he did a throwing motion to Kaiden, and the other team seemed to fall for the ruse.

Four seconds.

He saw Regan cross over into the end zone.

Three seconds.

Regan looked at him and gave a small nod.

Two seconds.

Crew threw the football. It soared and fell neatly into Regan’s hand. The stadium erupted as the last second ticked to zero, ending the game. The Archers just won the Super Bowl. Crew took off running to Regan, screaming in absolute joy, not even realizing he was crying. The other players converged on the big offense guard, and complete chaos ensued. Exuberant, amazing. The field turned into a big mosh pit as the celebration erupted.

After that it all became a blur. Confetti in the team colors floated in the air. Fireworks went off. Family and friends found their way onto the field to congratulate everyone. Romilly ran toward Kaiden and he scooped her up into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Tears of happiness coursed down her cheeks. The MVP award went to Kaiden, and it was well deserved. The man was an endless boost of enthusiasm that kept pushing the team to be better. The Vince Lombardy Trophy came out and was presented to the team owners. Speech after speech was given. News cameras were everywhere. People chanted his name. It was a circus, but Crew absolutely loved it.

He hoped Thomas was watching. Hoped he understood he was a part of this celebration even though they were a thousand miles apart. Crew wouldn’t be where he was if it hadn’t been for Thomas taking him under his wing and teaching him the fundamentals of the game, as well as how to be a decent human being.

Finally, it was all over and he headed into the locker room to get clean so he could continue partying with his teammates. The festivities never really stopped. From champagne spewed in the locker room, to champagne flowing like water at the clubs. After Crew showered and dressed, he placed a call to Thomas. He’d be so proud of him. This win belonged to his mentor, because without him Crew wouldn’t be the quarterback he was today. However, it rang and rang but no one answered. Crew was a little disappointed, but he figured it was too late to call. He’d try again in the morning. Now, it was time to celebrate.

****

The next morning, the shrill ring of his cell phone pulled him from sleep, only to discover he wasn’t alone in the big hotel bed. Two women bracketed him. Drunken flashes of partying danced through his memory, and he winced at his behavior. He’d picked them up at the VIP lounge in the club they had gone to party, and after several rounds of hardcore booze, everything took on a hazy remembrance. He reached over one unconscious woman and grabbed his phone, frowning when he saw the name of his lawyer.

“Hello?” he answered, scooting off the bed to talk privately. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Mr. Kiles, this is Caleb Walker.”

“Hey, how can I help you?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. I’m sorry to inform you that Thomas Campbell passed away the other day.”

They were words he never wanted to hear. His first instinct was to yell “Liar!” No, no way did Thomas die. He’d been sick, but Crew had hired the best medical care to help him, including home infusions.

“Hello? Mr. Kiles?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He wanted to bury his head in the sand until he woke up. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The lawyer’s voice held a note of sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Crew sat down heavily on the closed toilet as tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to push down the emotions. He cleared his throat as he processed what Caleb said.

“Wait. The other day?” He frowned. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “Why wasn’t I notified sooner?”

“Mr. Campbell gave specific instructions to call after the game,” the lawyer replied. “He didn’t want his death to throw your concentration off, so to speak.”

“Damn it, Thomas,” Crew choked up.

“You are the sole beneficiary of his estate. He left you all his possessions, including his home in Anchorridge Cove.”

Caleb droned on, talking about how to claim his inheritance and whatever else lawyers had to divulge, but Crew didn’t process any of it. His mentor, the man who practically saved his life, hadn’t lived long enough to see him win the Super Bowl, and that broke his heart.

After making plans with Caleb to meet up at the beach house, Crew hung up. Then he sat in the dark and let the tears flow.