Page 91 of Just One More Thing

I open the bottles and hand one over.

He tells me about leaving the league. About using his injury as an excuse to retire.

“Do you regret leaving?” I ask.

“Honestly,” he says. “I don’t know.”

Hours pass without either of us noticing. We talk about almost everything. The way crabbing felt like relearning a language he’d been born to speak. Trying to find himself as Jake Wheeler, not Quarterback Jake Wheeler. I tell him about the apartment I never fully unpacked. The city I can’t get to feel like home no matter how long I stay.

We talk about regrets.

Except one.

We don’t talk about thank you.

Not tonight. Tonight isn’t about fixing the past. Tonight is about showing up.

I’m so tired of not being here.

No fireworks. No epiphany music. Just the truth, finally sitting down in front of me.

I don’t go home.

Tonight, I stay.

Beside him.

In the quiet house that still made room for me.

I stayed.

CHAPTER 25

JAKE

She’s still here.

This isn’t our first sleepover. We had dozens growing up. Back then, falling asleep near each other felt as normal as breathing.

But this one is different.

Last night she stayed for me.

Mo is sprawled across the sectional in my hoodie, one shoulder bare where the collar slipped, a sleeve swallowing her hand. One knee tucked up, the other stretched long. She still sleeps like a flamingo. Hank is wedged against her ribs like a heated sandbag, snoring hard enough to rattle the whole couch.

I’ve stood in the pocket with three-hundred-pound linemen bearing down and felt less exposed than I do right now, standing in my own living room watching her sleep in my clothes.

Knowing she chose to stay.

I didn’t think I’d ever see this again.

Peace settles over me so quietly I almost don’t trust it. I haven’t felt this kind in a long time.

I carry my coffee out to the dock, easing the screen door shut behind me, which I never do. The morning is still mostly quiet, just gulls already arguing overhead like they’ve got personalgrievances to air before breakfast and the faint ding of the buoy. A boat moves in the distance. Water taps against the pilings below.

Today’s going to be a long one. Final prep before Dog Days of Summer kicks off tomorrow. Chalk lines, booths, volunteer wrangling, making sure nobody lets Wayne near anything that plugs in or requires insurance.

This is my third year running the fundraiser for Big Dog Ranch Rescue, the biggest no-kill, no-cage dog rescue in the country.