Tater waves his phone at me and reads a text message from our professor. “We need interviews with your dad, Nick, Cam, and Billy.”
Right now, all I want to do is celebrate, but I have to tamp down my euphoria and do my job.
We make our way through the crowd, and I high-five several of the Broncos. I finally spot my father, who’s being interviewed by ESPN, so Tater and I wait in line.
After we interview Cam and Nick, I finally get to Coach.
“Great job, Dad!” I hug him, and he’s smiling from ear to ear. “I need a minute to interview you.”
He motions toward the tunnel. “Join me in the media room for the post-game press conference. I’ll give you a chance to get your questions in, but I need to get back there to talk to one of the scouts.”
I nod and scan the field for Billy, but can’t find him.
“Billy will join us. Come on, Roxy. I don’t want to keep these guys waiting.”
Smiling because my father read my mind, I reluctantly follow along with Tater, wishing I could’ve talked to Billy on the field. He was so amazing today, and I can’t wait to leap into his arms, but that will have to wait until I’m done with my interviews.
By the time we get to the media room, it’s wall-to-wall press, and Tater and I have to squeeze in along the back. But the Bronco media liaison spots us and waves us forward, and we end up near the front, which is really cool because I couldn’t see over all of the cameras.
When Billy enters the room, my heart skips a beat. He’s sweaty and dirty and likely exhausted, but when our eyes connect, I don’t care that he looks like he just rolled around in the grass. That man is mine, and I’m so damn proud of him.
He smiles, and I grin back, not caring that I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve.
The players sit at the table with my dad—Nick, Cam, Billy, Deke, and one of the defensive linemen.
Just like on the field, I have to wait my turn to ask a question. I swear every other station gets to go first. I’m starting to get a cramp in my arm from holding it up when my dad finally calls on me.
“Coach, congrats on the win. What prompted you to use Billy Babcock, a safety, as a wide receiver?”
My dad chuckles. “Someone reminded me last summer that Billy was a standout quarterback in high school, and that perhaps I wasn’t utilizing him as much as I could. But not only does he have a great arm, Billy Babcock is one of the best college safeties in the country. Today’s interception was his eighth, and that ties him for first. But he’s more than just a great defenseman. He’s quick, has great hands, and has a high aptitude for the game. We’re lucky to have him.”
Billy turns to my dad. “Thanks, Coach. You’re not so bad yourself.”
Everyone laughs. Even my dad.
Someone else asks, “Billy, who do you hope drafts you in the spring?”
He swallows, looks down, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep the tears at bay because this is the first time a reporter has asked him about that. I hope he knows he truly has major draft potential now.
Billy leans in toward the mic. “I’d be thrilled to play in the NFL, period. If there are teams out there who want me, they should know they’ll be getting someone who loves the game. Someone who gives their heart and soul out there every day.”
My dad pats him on the back. “I’ll vouch for the kid. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but he’s grown by leaps and bounds and is a leader on the team and on the field. Any NFL team who drafts Billy Babcock will be lucky.”
Inside I’m beaming. I’m so damn proud of my boyfriend. And so grateful to my father for giving him another chance.
Another reporter says, “Billy, back to that incredible offensive play. What was going through your mind as you made that pass?”
“That I’d better not screw up or Coach would kill me.” My dad nods, but he’s smiling. Billy clears his throat. “Plus, it would suck to lose. I couldn’t exactly ask my girlfriend to marry me after a loss.”
Wait.
What did he just say?
Stunned, I stand there like a concrete pillar as Billy gets up and comes around the table.
All the cameras in the room swivel with him as he stops in front of me and drops to one knee.
My mouth drops open, and I slap my hand over it.
