Page 36 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

Patrick slowly lowers his arms. "...Was that your name?"

I nod.

I can't seem to do anything else. Tears blur my vision.

"He..." My voice cracks. "He did that for me."

Patrick doesn't say a word.

He just quietly reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

The post-game interviews starts. I should turn it off.

I don't.

Cal stands in front of a wall covered with sponsor logos.

Microphones crowd toward him.

Normally, he would've answered every question with one-word responses.

Today, he’s smiling.

A reporter grins.

"Quite the comeback today."

"It was."

"What changed in the second half?"

Cal looks down for a second.

Then back up. "The right person reminded me who I was playing for."

A few reporters laugh.

"Oh?"

"Who's that?"

My heart pounds. He hesitates.

I know that look. He's scared. He's terrified.

There are cameras. Microphones. Countless people watching.

Every instinct he has is probably screaming at him to walk away.

Instead, he squares his shoulders. Looks directly into the camera.

"The woman I love."

Everything inside me stops.

"I spent a long time letting people decide who I was." His voice is steady now. "They were wrong."

He smiles. A real one.