“We got ’em boys. Gonna get another BCS National Championship, no doubt about it!” He didn’t stop there, whooping and hollering for several minutes, and Austin moved to stand beside me, saying, “How he gets laid is beyond me, crazy f**ker.”
Laughing as Jimmy-Don worked our teammates into a frenzy, I couldn’t help but get caught up in all the excitement too. The last three months I’d played like never before—we all had—and my girl, my girl attended every home game, even some away, and she kissed me, publicly, before each and ever one, the fans unwilling to have it any other way. They were beginning to love her just as much as me.
Coach chose that moment to enter the room, trying his damnedest to hold in his amusement of our offensive tackle working it like a pro.
“Jimmy-Don Smith! Get the hell down from there!” Grimacing, Jimmy-Don jumped off the table and followed the coach, apologizing until he was dragged away by a teammate and shoved into the showers.
Coach tried to hide his mirth, then finding me at the back, tilted his chin and signaled for me to meet him in his office.
Sitting before him, I asked, “What’s up, Coach?”
“I wanted to let you in on a very interesting call I had yesterday.”
Frowning, I said, “Okay…”
“It was from the head coach of the Seattle Seahawks.” Excitement built in my chest, and I smiled; Coach did too.
“They’re having a real tough time this season, and if things keep going south for them and we get it right, you’ll be a first-round draft pick. You could find yourself heading north for Seattle, son. You’d be getting a fresh start away from Bama.” I got what he was really saying—I’d be getting a fresh start away from my folks.
“I told the Hawks what I think of you.”
I looked at him and frowned. What the hell was that?
Coach smiled and said, “Relax, I told them you’re the best quarterback I’ve ever worked with, your work ethic is bordering on obsessive—which is a good thing—and you’re one of the strongest kids I know, especially in the face of adversity. I told them you’re the damn lottery, son.”
Coach stood, always a man of few words, and clapped me on the shoulder, seeing I was choked up at his words, and left me alone to process all that was said.
Seattle.
Moving to my locker in a daze, I grabbed a shower and quickly dressed into my jeans and T-shirt. My thoughts were going crazy. I was excited by what Coach had just said, the fact I could get away to somewhere like Seattle. But I was also worried with when I should tell Mol. Right now the Hawks were a possibility, but I didn’t want her to plan her future around it, in case things changed. Plus, we’d never even agreed that she would come with me. That was a conversation we needed to have.
Grabbing my things, I checked my phone. One message:
Al: Rome, when you get this, come straight to Molly’s room. We’re all with her until you get here. Al. XX
Frowning in concern, I turned to Austin. “Got to go. Something’s up with Mol. Catch you later?”
“Sure. Hope she’s okay.” Slapping him on the back, I headed out of the stadium and raced to Molly’s sorority house.
As soon as I arrived below her balcony, I heard a loud cry from inside her room.
Molly.
Fear saw me climbing up the trellis faster than ever, and when I landed on the balcony terrace, it was to find Molly on the floor, surrounded by her friends, all shedding tears too.
“Mol?” My girl didn’t stop crying as I called out her name, but Ally lifted her head and paled at me frozen in shock. That only caused me to panic more.
“Mol! What’s wrong with her?” I bit out more forcefully as I burst into the room. Molly still didn’t stop in her tears, Lexi and Cass shielding her from my view.
Ally stood and came before me, chewing on her fingernail. She was nervous. I knew my cousin enough to know that. “Rome, calm down, okay?”
“No! What’s wrong with her?” I looked over Ally’s shoulder, but my girl still hadn’t moved. Was she in pain? Was she really sick? Did she need the hospital? Shit! Did she have to leave to Bama? Too many messed-up scenarios raced through my head.
“Mol?” I tried to call out again. Still nothing, and this time I was losing patience… fast. Turning back to Al, I asked, “Is she sick? Why isn’t she answering me? I got your message and came straight over.”
“No. She’s… erm…” Al couldn’t say a damn thing either, and my stomach flipped.