28. Chapter 28

E verything about this day feels different. It's not even nerves because we are playing a good team. As we approach the final weeks of our season and maintain our undefeated record, more hype surrounds us. With this week's game being on Veterans Day, the university has planned a few ceremonious events to honor our servicemen and women.

It's weird being around military appreciation days since my dad died and my brother is away serving our country. Growing up, my dad would come to school with us on Veterans Day since our district put on an assembly every year. With them both gone, it feels weird to celebrate them when all you want to do is honor them but in person. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of my brother for serving our country and fighting for our freedoms. I just miss him. I want to fix our relationship and feel like I have a brother in my life.

Sitting on the bench before my locker, I lace up my cleats before wrapping my feet with tape to keep the laces in place. Jitters don't normally flutter in my stomach. I rarely suffer from pregame nerves, but something in the air tells me today is different. I can't put my finger on why, though.

One different thing is our jerseys. The athletic department upgraded our home jerseys for today's particular game. The white and powder blue digital camo uniforms are sick as fuck. Our white helmets even have matching camouflage inside the CTU letters.

"Yo," JP says from his locker across from mine.

The guys and I all turn our attention to him. "I had the weirdest fucking dream last night."

Grant pauses from where he's taping his shoes a few lockers down from mine. "What was it?"

"We were all playing football, but we were dressed like chicks."

I shrug, glancing around at the other guys. "It doesn't seem that weird. Were we in like dresses?"

"The hell do you guys get into in your apartment that wearing dresses isn't that weird?" Grant scoffs, disgust and confusion morphing his features. "Please don't tell me y'all parade around wearing my sister's dresses."

"First off, I've never seen your sister in a dress," Harris chimes in. "And second of all, don't be saying shit like that. It takes one of these fuckers to overhear, and we have a whole rumor on campus."

I chuckle. "That's not what I meant either."

"Anyway," JP drawls, regaining our attention. "We weren't wearing dresses but tutus, like ballerinas wear, and cheerleading skirts."

"Bro, that's weird as fuck," Harris says.

"Thank you." JP waves his hands in front of him.

"Maybe you've fucked too many cheerleaders, so now you're going to become one." Grant howls, causing the room to laugh.

JP tosses his sandal at Grant, who catches it. He bounces over to our big defenseman and gives playful punches on JP's pads.

"Man, fuck you," JP grumbles as laughter fills the room.

I turn to lock up my safe and double-check I have everything as the coaches file in from the attached conference room. Coach Campbell claps his hands, commanding our attention .

"Gentlemen," he starts, glancing around the room and making eye contact with each of us. "Today is a special day. I won't stand up here and tell you what you need to do out there because you already know. I will tell you not to let today's ceremonies distract you from playing our game. Let's go out there and show them what we're made of."

Cheers erupt as we clap our hands, forming a huddle around Coach.

"Eagles on three," Harris yells over the chaos. "One, two, three."

"Eagles!" we chant back before funneling through the doors, our helmets in hand.

The sounds of our cleats clinking against the tile echo down the hall as we jog toward the tunnel. Lights from media photographers flash around us as adrenaline rushes through our veins. Helmets go on as we line up inside the chute and wait for our signal.

Coach stands at the opening inside the tunnel as our captains surround him. Coach raises his hand in the air as we bounce on our feet in anticipation of what's to come. He drops his arm as we run onto the field.

The packed stadium erupts in cheers as we follow the male cheerleaders who hoist our flags high in the air and lead us to our sideline. The announcer continues to hype the crowd up as we find our places. Since there were more pregame ceremonies than usual, we were immediately directed to line up for the national anthem.

With my left hand hanging at my side, I grip my helmet and place my right hand over my heart. An up-and-coming country singer takes the field as she has the honor of performing the national anthem. As she belts out the lyrics, military members hold the giant flag on the field, and I stand tall as thoughts of my father and brother flash through my mind .

Even with all the distractions, the noise from the sold-out crowd, and the emotions of playing in front of the veterans we are honoring, we never wavered. As soon as the ball was kicked off at the start of the game, we played with heart and tenacity. We played the way we trained by putting on one helluva show for our fans.

As the referee blows his whistle, signaling the end of the half, we jog off the field. Sweat poured down our faces. The score is in our favor as we lead by seventeen. Our kicker hit a thirty-seven-yard field goal as the first half ended. I turn, ready to jog off the field as usual, but Coach stops us. Everyone looks around in confusion.

"We're staying on the field," Coach says. "It's an extended halftime. Once the ceremony ends, we'll go back for a normal halftime."

Scanning the crowd, my eyes land on Bret. She's standing in the front row of the student section with Gregg, Macy, Cody, Chloe, and Brynn. Quinton is home for the weekend, but he's down here on the sidelines somewhere. Perks of being a famous alumnus. I swear she can feel me watching her from forty yards away. I watch her emerald eyes scan the sidelines until they land on mine. Our eyes connect, and her features soften.

The announcer's voice echoes through the stadium, startling her. "Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the fifty-yard line. Please join me in welcoming our honorary veterans."

The crowd falls silent as a respectful hush envelops the stadium. My heart pounds as I stand shoulder to shoulder with my teammates. My makeshift brothers. It's been three years since I've seen my real brother, and the absence never fully fades away.

A familiar knot tightens in my stomach as anxiety starts to creep in. Having a loved one overseas never gets easier. Even though I've continued living my life, I never forget about him. I wonder what he's doing right now. Is he hunkered down in a bunker? Is he on a mission? Or is he at camp waiting for his next assignment?

Veterans begin to walk out from our tunnel and make their way to the makeshift stage. They're greeted by a thunderous round of applause as everyone in the stadium thanks them for their service. I clap along as I feel a wave of sadness.

Three years ago, when Jett was home, he looked so different. Serving in a war will do that to you. But while he joked around the table, his eyes also showed sadness. Is he happy? Does he miss the family like we miss him? When he hugged me goodbye, he told me he would do better at staying in contact, especially since I was heading off to college. But life has a funny way of throwing a wrench in your plans. I'm sure he's doing his best to keep in touch with the occasional email, and at least he wished me a happy birthday this year.

Photographers and members of the media shuffle around the field, capturing the ceremonious events. Some turn toward the team to capture us in our special uniforms.

The announcer's voice cuts through my musings. His voice softens, filling with emotion as a wave of restless energy radiates around me. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest. Please welcome Staff Sergeant Jett Riggsby, returning home after eight years of service."

My world stops. Did I hear him right? Did he just say Staff Sergeant Jett Riggsby? My breath catches as I try to swallow the lump of emotions that wells in my throat. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and my vision blurs. Blinking, I try to clear the tears that are gathering in my eyes. I'm not a crier, but goddamn, this might do the trick.

I'm so caught up in everything happening around me that I didn't even see him step on the field. It's not until Coach Campbell is clapping me on the shoulder pads, and my teammates are staring back at me as they move. The gap they make lets me see clearly.

My brother, dressed in his uniform, is making his way toward me. He looks just like I remember, only a little broader and with a little more wear on his face. My knees buckle as I fight to keep upright. Dropping my helmet, I pinch my forearm because there is no way that this is actually happening. My chest tightens, and my chin quivers as I keep the sobs from bursting.

Realizing that this is reality, I take off, pushing through the guys who clap me on the shoulders as I move past. My vision tunnels as I jog onto the field and eat up the distance between me and my brother. Everything blurs around me—faces, noise, everything is gone as I race toward him.

When I'm finally standing before him, Jett's wide smile that matches mine takes up his face. Arms wide, we both pull each other in for a hug. Holding him tightly, he hugs back just as fiercely. "You're really fucking here?"

"I missed you, little bro." His voice is thick with emotion and has a raspier tone, which wasn't there before.

I can't fight the tears any longer and let them stream free. Fuck the crowd and anyone who sees it. All I care about is that Jett is here. He was home, on US soil, safe.

"Are you home for good?"

"Figured it was about time."

A weight I didn't know I was carrying slipped away. No more worrying about where in the world Jett was stationed. Gone was the gnawing fear if he was safe and in one piece. All of the worry was gone.

The crowd's cheers funnel back into my ears, but only as a distant hum. We pull apart, our eyes damp from tears as we both take each other in .

"Fucking look at you." He beams. "You're not that tiny shit anymore."

"Yeah, good luck with beating me up now."

"I'm proud of you, Crew." His voice cracks, and emotion clogs my throat.

"Need a tissue?"

"Fuck off." He playfully shoves me. "Now go. You've got a game to win, and I've got a game to watch. It's about damn time I caught one of your games in person."

This is no longer just a game anymore, it is a reunion, a homecoming.

"This one time." Jett pauses as he takes a long pull of the beer dangling from his fingers. "Crew was in a phase where he refused to wear pants."

I groan. "Why do you have to do this?"

Tossing his arm around my shoulder, he pulls me against him in a half hug. "That's what big brothers are for. They make fun of their younger brother in front of pretty girls."

Jett, Bret, and I all went to a pizzeria off campus. It's not Cousin Jimmy's. This place has wood-fired, inventive, hand-tossed pizzas. The rest of the guys all went to The Eagles Nest, Bret only tagged along because Jett insisted the female roommate not be left out. Whatever that means.

"Anyway," Jett drawls out. "Back to my story. We were at my aunt and uncle's when Crew decided he was tired of wearing his pants. He stripped out of his jeans and took off running through the backyard, where all of the family was gathered. Dad took off running, but Crew refused to stop. He hopped the fence into the pasture, bare ass and everything. When Dad started climbing after him, Crew here thought it'd be funny to jump on the back of a ram, which took off running through the field with a half naked Crew."

Bret's booming laugh has heads whipping in our direction. The two of them have clearly hit it off. Jett has been telling story after story while drinking beer after beer. There is a pile of bottles in the center of the table.

"Does Mom know you're home?" I ask, sobering the mood.

He nods. "Yeah, I called her when I returned to US soil. I'm flying out tomorrow afternoon to head home."

"She's going to be glad to see you." He hums as I take another bite of pizza. "What are your plans?"

"Brother, not tonight." Jett lolls his head toward Bret. "So tell me, how did a pretty girl like yourself end up rooming with my brother?"

Bringing her cup to her mouth, she takes a long drink of her Coke. Bret offered to be our designated driver since she didn't want to use her fake ID in an actual restaurant.

"Funny story, actually. I used my real name, and with my major and extracurricular activities, the guys assumed I was a guy and accepted my email inquiring about the room."

"Oh, that's great," Jett chuckles. "So what's your major?"

"Sports management. I'd love to be an athletic director."

She glances over at me, and I wink at her, which causes her cheeks to pinken just like I knew they would. Everything feels right tonight. My brother is home, and my girl is having dinner with us. Jett keeps giving me weird glances, and I wonder if he's catching on to the sparks swirling around Bret and me.

"That's cool." Jett whips his head in my direction. "You guys should plan a trip to Silo Bay over spring break. I think you'd like it. "

"I was actually there when the team rolled through earlier this fall."

He taps his chin with his pointer finger. "That's right. I heard all about the town's golden boy returning home."

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "Please, just wait until they pull something together when you show up tomorrow. They will be rolling out the red carpet."

Inhaling half a slice of pizza, Jett wipes the grease from his mouth with his napkin. "More like barricades so the troubled Riggsby boy doesn't step foot in city limits."

Now, he might be onto something. Jett Riggsby was notorious for causing all kinds of hell. From spray painting road signs to throwing parties in abandoned houses to being a menace whenever he could. He and his group of friends were trouble, but no one said anything about it since they could never actually prove it was them. Not to mention, their football team was incredible all four years. They were practically local celebrities who paved the way for my class to follow in their footsteps.

"Excuse me." Bret wipes her hands as she stands. "I need to use the restroom."

Jett and I both nod as I watch her walk toward the hallway where the bathrooms are.

"So, how long have you been screwing your roommate?"

Spluttering the beer I was drinking, golden liquid dribbles onto the table. Glancing from the beer to my brother, a knowing smirk plays on his lips. "Shut up."

The asshole chuckles. "Seriously, Jett, you can't say shit. She's Coach Campbell's daughter."

He laughs harder. "You've really stepped in it this time. Banging the coach's daughter, wow."

"It's not like that," I grumble. Scanning the room for any wandering eyes. "We're dating but keeping it a secret."

"C'mon, Crew. What are you doing?"

I sigh. "It's a long story. It's a twisted, complicated story, but we're going to tell everyone. She just wants to wait until the season ends so there aren't any problems on the team."

"How the fuck do you think they're going to react when they find out you've been together for months?" He hisses the question.

"Don't you think I don't know that? Huh?" I lean forward, turning my head to stare directly at him. "I said it was a long fucking story, and we tried to avoid things, but it just happened. Now fucking drop it, you dick."

Reaching for his beer, he finishes the half-full beer. "I'll drop it, but I'm telling you it won't go over well."

I watch Bret weave her way through the tables, her face beaming as she looks at our table. "What'd I miss?"

For the next hour, time seemed to slow as the three of us sat at a secluded table, laughing and telling stories. It was at that moment I realized how complete I felt. Of course, I wished the rest of my family were here, but there would be time for that. Right now, with my brother home, I feel hope. Hope for a future I've dreamed about since I was a little boy. A dream of running my family's farming business with my own family and my brother by my side.

Tonight was a celebration of more than a game. It was a celebration of family, resilience, and the unbreakable bonds that tether us together.