by Ginger Scott
Hopeful eyes meet mine as I lower her back to her feet, nervous lips twitch, afraid to hear the answer, but anxious all the same. I start to nod, and she starts to cry.
“This is enough for me. You…Peyton…”
“We’re having a baby!” Nolan shouts before I can finish.
Laughter brews in my chest and spills out loudly, a duet with my wife’s gleeful laugh that comes out in hiccups in-between happy cries.
“I’m done, baby. I’m home, and I want you and this perfect little family. I want another baby so much,” I say, letting the flood of tears blur everything now.
“Oh my, a baby!” Rose cries out, stepping into us both with wide, open arms. We hug her together, then separately. When I turn to face my dad and see him standing, his hand over his heart and tears in his eyes, a smile broad from cheek to cheek, I begin to cry more.
“I’m gonna be a dad again, Pops,” I say, leaping over an ottoman to get to him faster. I grab his hand but he quickly pulls me in for a hug in celebration. He’s weathered so much but somehow still stands tall over me—he stands, when he shouldn’t. On his own.
Sarah holds a phone in the air as she whistles, and it draws everyone’s attention.
“Sean, Reed has something he would like to tell you,” she shouts, passing the phone to me with my friend’s face lit up on the screen. He looks confused as hell.
“How do you feel about Arizona in say…” I glance to Nolan, not really sure of my math.
“July. The fourth, actually,” she says through the most perfect smile. I haven’t seen her face shine like this in months.
“What she said,” I say, leaving my eyes on her while my friend continues to shout confused questions from his phone. I look back down to my palm, Becky now standing behind him.
“We’re having a baby!”
“Oh my God!” They both scream, and Sarah takes the phone away from me to join them.
My brother steps up behind me and pulls me into a bear hug that I cut short and yell at him for, reminding him of the surgery he just had.
“I guess we’re gonna have to get busy to catch up to you!” He pulls at my shoulders and our heads press together while we hold each other’s biceps and laugh like loons. It’s such a show of masculinity, proving that we can make life. Hell, Nolan really does all the work.
“Babe, we have to call Micah and Sienna,” I shout, letting go of Jason’s arms but leaving my arm around him.
“Already on it!” Sarah says, passing the phone with Sean and Beck to Nolan while she takes over Jason’s phone to call the rest of our friends.
We spend the rest of the night looping everyone in, and making plans for Nolan’s parents to visit along with her brother and his wife and their kids. Our house will be full. Her mom promises help, but I don’t want to miss any of it this time. I want every awful job, every late-hour cry. I want to kick myself for wanting it, then thank myself when I’m refreshed after a nap. I want to live every moment, the ones I missed with Peyton and the one’s that we’ll all make together.
I want to be the man my daughter tells her secrets to, the one who threatens the boys who will never be good enough, then gives in to the one she begs me to accept. I want to watch her be the best at what she does, to be the reason I show up to a football field and stand under the Friday lights.
I want this town. This small town that I’ve promised to give back to in the name of one of the best men I ever knew. I want to live in Trig’s honor and do all of the things that he never got to because this game, and his mind—it stole it away.
More than anything, I want to live.
This life, with this girl—it’s my passion.
I’m nothing without her, and everything when I’m wherever she is.
All the games couldn’t compare.
She’s my hail Mary.
Epilogue
Nolan
“Your mama lived in this trailer.”
I bounce Ellie in my arms, her sleepy eyes barely holding on. She doesn’t understand anything I say yet. She’s only two months old.
They’re tearing down the manufactured homes on my old street, making way for a business park and some condos. It’s strange to see, and it makes me a little sad, honestly. I want progress, but I also want my town to stay small. I guess it doesn’t work that way.
Change.
We’ve been part of that. The school fields are transforming on a pretty tight schedule, with the promise of being ready by game day in September. The view from our property is already obscured by steel frames that will soon become an advanced medical complex and homes.
Until my old street is gone, though, I’ve decided to make it a part of my daily morning walk. We’ll stop and say goodbye when the bulldozers come, but after that, I just don’t think I’ll be able to see it disappear. I’d rather just wake up and see something new, like a dream.
“You ready to go see Daddy?” I bounce Ellie at my hip and she coos. I put her back in the jogger and strap her in, giving her the small teddy bear she got from Peyton as a present. If I make it to the high school before she throws it on the ground, I’ll be amazed.
I started running again. I haven’t really run since, well…high school. It was always good for my head then, though. More than the mental benefits, I think what Jason went through really scared us all. Reed hasn’t stopped training like he’s about to start for an NFL team. But instead of pro-players, he throws the ball to teenagers now.
He’s not officially on the coaching staff, but he just shows up every day. They let him because hell, his presence is pretty freaking good for fundraising. He’s actually really good with the offense. I think Coach Baker just likes having him around to talk to. I’ve asked him if he thinks he’ll take the head job when Baker steps down next year, but he insists he won’t.
“I’m retired,” he always says.
World’s busiest volunteer, more like it.
I make the final curve around the back of the school with the jogging stroller and slow to a walk, weaving through the portable buildings that are being used while the main gym and health classes get a new home. Reed won’t be happy until this entire campus is new and better than any other campus in the state.
Always the competitor.
Reed is leaning against the wall in his usual spot, right by Baker’s office. I stroll up quietly and whisper, “Boo!”
“Hey,” he says, an instant smile on his face. It’s not there for me. It’s there for Ellie. Okay, well maybe it’s partly there for me, but I know what really makes his heart melt.
“You waitin’ on Baker or something?” I ask while he takes his daughter from me and holds her up high above his head until a string of drool drops to the front of his chest. He brings her in to cuddle at his side and chuckles at me while he smears the damp spot.
“I deserved that,” he says.
I nod with tight lips because I know better.
“Oh hey, step in to the wall. You’re going to blow my cover,” he whispers quickly. He grabs the sleeve of my T-shirt and pulls me close, which irritates me at first until I follow his gaze to the main courtyard filled with grass and picnic tables
“You think he’s asking her?” I whisper.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want him to,” Reed whispers.
Bryce spent the summer at a football camp—one Reed recommended him for. I was never quite sure if he really believed in the kid or just wanted him away from his daughter. But Bryce’s first letter showed up about a week after he left, and he sent one religiously every few days. Every single letter was about something that Peyton put on her list for him. The very first item—sometimes a girl just wants a letter. Not everything was a simple task. She asked him to really think about why he messed around with another girl but still wanted her. She also asked him to do something for the community. When he was at camp in San Diego, he volunteered at the Boys and Girls club and coached a youth football team. He sent her a picture from their last game.
<
br /> He hand-delivered his last letter a few days ago. He gave it to Reed and asked him to read it then and there, and somehow my husband didn’t crumple it up and throw it back at him. I think because deep down he sees himself in the kid. Heck, I see Reed in Bryce. The letter was for us, and he asked us if it would be all right if he asked Peyton to homecoming.
Reed’s immediate response was “That’s in like six weeks, man.” After I elbowed him, though, and he cleared his throat of all the damn masculine hostility, he shrugged and said “We’ll see.”
I guess we’re seeing right now.
“She’s a lot like you, you know,” he says, and I loop my arm through his and squeeze, kissing his bicep. She’s not. She’s like him. She’s so much more secure and confident than I was. I’m glad she is.
“I think he’s asking now,” I say, suddenly nervous for her—for him!
Our daughter takes a deep breath and folds her arms over her chest. I start to feel bad and a little guilty for spying. She lets her arms fall to her side, though, and steps toward him with a hug.
“Damn,” Reed says, and I jerk his arm because he forgets that Ellie’s here sometimes. Not that she can talk yet, but I swear her first word is going to be a doozy.
I watch a little longer, and I see the little things I can’t verbalize to him, but they’re special things that let me know Peyton…she’s gonna be okay. Bryce’s eyes close as they hug, and his face dips into her hair. That smile is the kind I always wanted Reed to have for me when I was our daughter’s age. The way his hands flex then fist at her back says this is important to him. It also says he’s scared and probably full of adrenaline.
“Well,” Reed says, turning into me and grimacing.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a skeptic,” I say, tilting my head.
“I’m not. I’m a romantic,” he says with a wink and a laugh. I join him as I take our daughter back and put her in the stroller again. He was making a joke, but he really is the romantic one. He always has been.
I turn the big wheel around and push back the way I came, this time with Reed at my side. I think about how hard I thought this all was going to be. Funny how easy this life is, though.
“You know, I haven’t had a dream since you’ve been home. Not one that I can remember,” he says. I smile to myself because while he’s just musing about things, like he always does, he has no idea how deeply those words resonate.
I look up into his perfect green eyes while we walk, and he takes over pushing duties so I can link my arm with his.
“Probably because you don’t have to,” I say.
His crooked smile comes fast.
“I like that,” he says, looking ahead.
“Me too,” I say.
Me, too.
THE END
Acknowledgments
And now for the most difficult part to write…
Sigh.
There is so much to say about this book—this family and series. I don’t want to double the size of this sucker, even though I could. I’ve shared my writing journey and the roots of Waiting on the Sidelines often, so I won’t go deep into it here, but for those who may not know, Book 1 - Waiting on the Sidelines - was my first published novel. I carried it around for more than a decade half finished. I was terrified to share it, afraid of rejection and being judged, I suppose.
It came out on Tax Day 2013. Good news on a shitty day haha. Turns out, that little book of my heart was the best news ever for me. It opened up the possibility of my dream. I’m living it. And those of you who took a chance on that book, back in the day; those of you who I have grown epically close to and call friends—you are my fairy godmothers. For real.
This gets said a lot in acknowledgements and it’s said because it’s true. You—the reader—are everything. That’s it. Not one single title fits what you are to those of us who toil away with carpal tunnel and insomnia, hovering over our keyboards, manic on Diet Coke and Teddy Grahams while we talk to ourselves to make sure the dialogue sounds just…right… You are everything. We do this because you let us. I do this because you made it possible. I can’t thank you enough. All I can do is promise to keep creating, always with you in mind. I do, and I will.
I have so many people to thank. This first one might seem strange, but I’d like to thank Kurt Warner. You see, Reed was number 13 for a reason. Kurt is the kinda guy who breaks the mold. In the world of football, he was not just exceptional—he was an exception. Driven, yes, but grounded above all else. I admire him, and as much as I wish we had gotten one more year of him on the field…I’m glad he knew when to quit. His story inspired this one in many ways.
I’d also like to thank my family—my parents for giving me such an amazing life, my brother for molding me into the Tomboy I am, my husband for loving me and believing in me fiercely, and my son for being my very best friend. My family also includes my home. This series is very much about Arizona. I know Coolidge, Phoenix, Tucson, the desert—every dusty nook and cranny that somehow produces the most spectacular earth and sunsets. This place is the heartbeat that’s steady under my prose.
To my betas—Bianca, Shelley, Jen (I’ll get back to more on you, missy) and to TeriLyn. You put up with me doling out words to you bits at a time. You help me make sure they’re just right. Endless thanks! And please don’t ever close your email inboxes lol!
Now Jen, I call you out because in 2012, you were my very first beta. My bestie. We were working in a place that felt like it was on fire, and I had this dream and you needed an escape. In pure Jen fashion, you not only took my manuscript in to read as a favor, you made it your goddamned mission. You made me your goddamned mission. I can never thank you enough for believing in me, for pushing me, and for tirelessly telling people I’m your favorite author, even though you’re biased as hell haha. I love you, my friend. For your encouragement, and just for who you are.
This bookish world was forever changed by those of you who give your time and effort through blogging. I was forever changed by your work. There are so many of you who have lifted me up, and I want you to know that your work is so vital to this community. You, more than any of us, changed this romance business landscape. You knocked down doors and reshaped the rulebook. All because you wanted to find ALL OF THE BOOKS. And you wanted to share them…with the world! Thank you for sharing mine. Thank you for every single small and large thing you do. You work harder than me. And thank God! I will forever be your fan.
To my editors: BilliJoy Carson of Editing Addict and Tina Scott. You’re my bullet-proof vest. To use a Waiting Series-themed analogy: You are my offensive line. You march me down the field with the confidence that I can score. Thank you!
Now, Autumn… You, my dear, are my Tony Dungy. I’m pretty sure I was a fan of you first. Your belief in me is one thing, but the fact that you also know when I need to just stop and breathe is beyond. You roll up your sleeves for me and have not just allowed me to stand a little straighter…taller…but you’ve made me start to believe that maybe I’m a’right at this book stuff after all. That right there, overcoming that doubt, has been the mountain in the way of everything for me. You came in with dynamite and blew it to shit. Thank you, my friend. You are so special.
Like I said, I have a ton of people to thank. I could go on and on. My husband really deserves his own chapter of thanks, but since he’s right here, I can just tell him. I’m gonna wrap this up, as hard as it is because in doing so…I’m also closing the final chapter on characters who have become family.
I hope you enjoyed this coming-of-age ride. I hope I served Nolan and Reed well with this final book. I’ve never felt so satisfied in telling a tale. Honestly. Something about these two and where they are now feels just right. It’s like ahhh. They literally fade into our epic Arizona sunset. And kinda like them, I don’t really have to dream anymore. I’ve already gotten there.
XO
Til next time.
Ginger
Also by Ginger Scott
&n
bsp; The Waiting Series
Waiting on the Sidelines
Going Long
The Hail Mary
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Like Us Duet
A Boy Like You
A Girl Like Me
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The Falling Series
This Is Falling
You And Everything After
The Girl I Was Before
In Your Dreams
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The Harper Boys
Wild Reckless
Wicked Restless
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Standalone Reads
Cry Baby
The Hard Count
Memphis
Hold My Breath
Blindness
How We Deal With Gravity
About the Author
Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author from Peoria, Arizona. She is the author of several young and new adult romances, including bestsellers Cry Baby, The Hard Count, A Boy Like You, This Is Falling and Wild Reckless.
A sucker for a good romance, Ginger's other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).
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FIND GINGER ONLINE: www.littlemisswrite.com