Chapter 16 Austin Graham

One of the Lucky Ones

Five Days Until Christmas

I like to take a moment at the start of warm-ups to just look around the stadium as I try to live in the moment. These moments are fleeting, after all. The average career of a professional football player spans just over three years. I’ve been doing this for seven.

I’m one of the lucky ones, and I know that. And to be on the field as we start our first drive when I’ve spent the majority of my career in the second spot feels somehow even luckier.

As I look around, I see that the stands are filling five days before the holiday. I spot Kelly, and she’s wearing my jersey.

It almost feels like an early Christmas gift.

GRAHAM 41 stares back at me, and I can’t stop glancing up at her in the crowd during our warmups. I’m with the other tight ends as we run through our pregame footwork drills and upper body stretches, and when I glance up into the stands, she’s watching me, cheering for me, here for me. She’s sipping from a huge beer, and she looks happy as she laughs with Ava.

My heart feels full. Between her and the little girl we share, it feels like my life is finally falling into place. It’s everything I’ve worked my ass off for. And it feels for the first time like I did things the right way this time—like I earned all this. I’ve made things right with most of my teammates—including Asher.

We’ve talked a little, bonded a little over fatherhood, and have started an actual friendship.

And even though we’ve talked around our issues, I’m not sure I’ve given him the proper apology he deserves. He’d already left that day at the bakery when I apologized to Grayson, so I haven’t had the chance.

We’re playing the Buccaneers this weekend, and we’re ready. I’ve studied the film, and I know the plays that I’m going to have to execute today.

Asher glances over at me as we run through our stretches. “You ready for this?”

I tilt my head a little before I nod. “Fuck yeah, I am. You?”

“Never been more ready.”

“You’ve been dialed in all season,” I say.

“Comes with fatherhood, I guess.” He lifts a shoulder as his words hit home. That, in fact, is the exact same reason I’m dialed in. It’s the exact same reason I’m fighting so hard on this field. I want to make plays Mia will be proud of when she looks back on game footage from her dad’s playing days, and somehow making amends with Asher feels like the right thing to do.

He starts to turn away from me, but I don’t let him go quite yet.

“Hey, Asher?”

He turns back toward me with eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick to you and your family. None of you ever deserved that. You’re the better tight end, and Lincoln was right to start you. I’m a work in progress.”

He chuckles, and then he lightly slugs my arm. “Aren’t we all?”

I think he might be right, and I’m learning how I need to shift my focus to gratitude rather than what I might be missing out on.

And right now, I can’t think of a single damn thing I’m missing out on—well, you know, other than having Kelly keeping my bed warm every night instead of just once in a while, but that’s a work in progress too—one that’s about to change once we get through the holidays.

A half hour later, I run out onto the field to start the first drive of the game, allowing those feelings of gratitude to pour over me for maybe the first time in my adult life.

That’s right…I’m starting . It wasn’t just a fluke. This is the third game in a row I’ve started now, and it feels official.

I’m a starting tight end for the Vegas Aces. The woman I’m falling for is in the crowd. She’s moving in with me. We share the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful baby in the world.

I have a reason to celebrate Christmas this year—for the first time in over two decades.

I knew getting that starting position would be the start to getting all the things I deserved. It’s likely unrelated, but it feels symbolic anyway. Everything is falling into place. Finally.

It was a tough road to get here, but then out of nowhere, I’m here.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this…this…this happy .

But that’s sort of the problem with flying at our highest, isn’t it? There’s only one way to go once you get to the top.

I just didn’t expect it to all come crashing down because of one stupid mistake—a mistake that wasn’t even mine to make.

We coast through the first quarter, and we’re up by a touchdown as we start the second quarter. We’re in the middle of a drive down the field when Coach calls, “Seam Forty-One Pepper!”

Seam forty-one is me. That means I need to run a route down the seam, and Pepper means I need to run fast and hard to break away from the defender.

This is my chance to score. This is my chance to show everyone in the stands and on the sidelines—including Kelly, including my coaches, including my teammates—what I’m made of.

It’s my chance to prove I’m the player I’ve always wanted everyone else to see.

As soon as the ball is snapped, I sprint down the middle of the field. I’m hauling my ass toward the end zone, surprising the defense with my speed—surprising myself with my speed.

Adrenaline courses through me, pushing me to get to my intended target so I can catch the ball as Miles throws it to me.

I reach for the ball and grab it out of the air as I leap over the goal line.

The crowd goes wild. Fuck, I go wild.

My teammates slap me on the shoulder, the helmet, the ass. We celebrate for the cameras, and then we run back to the sidelines as more of my teammates high-five me. I feel like every game I get to start, I prove my worth to this team, this stadium, this city.

I’m finally exactly where I always dreamed of being, and it feels so goddamn good. I just hope this feeling can last.