Before I can figure it out, she stands, stretching her arms over her head. "Alright, I’m calling it. Goodnight, everyone."
My mom pulls her into a hug, my dad giving her a warm see you in the morning. I squeeze her hand as she walks past, her fingers brushing lightly over my shoulder.
And just like that, she’s gone, but the warmth she leaves behind lingers.
I lean my head back against the couch, exhaling slowly.
My uncle leans forward, rubbing his chin as he studies the screen. "So, how are you feeling going into the last few rounds of playoffs? You boys are undefeated this season. That’s a lot of pressure."
I shrug, rolling a football between my hands. "We’ve worked for this. We knew from the start that if we played our game, we’d be in this position. Nothing changes now."
My dad smirks, crossing his arms. "That’s a very athlete answer, son."
I chuckle. "What do you want me to say? That I’m nervous?"
He raises a brow. "Are you?"
I hesitate for half a second before shaking my head. "No. We’re ready."
And we are. We’ve put in the work. The practices are more intense, the film sessions longer, but that’s what it takes. This is what we’ve been building toward all season.
"Well," my uncle says, reaching for his beer, "if you keep playing the way you have been, you’ll be looking at a championship game in a few weeks."
The weight of that settles over me for a beat.
A national championship. It’s so close, just a few games away, but we have to earn it.
My dad claps a hand on my shoulder. "Enjoy it, Jax. These moments don’t last forever."
I nod, gripping the football tighter.
Because he’s right. These games, these nights under the lights, the feeling of pushing myself further than I ever thought I could—this is everything I’ve ever worked for.
“Boys, enough football talk!” my mom hums, giving me a look. "So."
I crack an eye open. "So?"
She grins, sipping her tea. "You’re really smitten, huh?"
I shake my head, but it’s useless—she already knows. "Yeah, Ma. I am."
My dad chuckles, settling into his chair. "It’s been a long time coming."
My uncle, who has been quietly nursing his drink by the fireplace, raises a brow. "Just don’t start talking about marriage yet. You two are way too young to be thinking about all that."
My mom gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. "Excuse me? I’d love a daughter-in-law soon!"
I groan, dropping my face into my hands. "Mom."
She just smirks. "What? A mother can dream."
I shake my head, but my uncle’s words stick in my brain, rooting there.
Marriage.
A future. A family.
Our family.
