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I throw my helmet on the field and tuck the winning ball under my arm. Slapping players’ hands, I give props, but I’m searching. When my eyes land on Reese, she nods, seeing me, too.
She knows to wait.
She lets me give a quick interview and three quick comments in praise of Beau and our team before I jog her way.
“Hawke! Hawke!” Other press flank me. They want comments, too, but not now.
All I can see are those big hazel eyes gazing up at me, surprised as I jog his way. They’re so full of innocence, joy, and pride. It suddenly makes my eyes burn with tears. The rocks in my throat make it hard for my heaving chest to breathe. I’m still amped from the game, but this has my nerves alive.
My heart pounds harder than ever before.
Everything falls away but my little boy.
“Hey there!” I run to the edge, to the metal half-wall. Reese lifts Forrest in her arms. He’s getting big, but he’s still small enough for her to hold.
“Are you a big fan?” I ask, hoping he can hear me above the cheering crowd.
He beams, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts from two feet away.
“You are!”
“Yeah! You and Bronson! I’m gonna be you one day! I’m fast, and I can throw!”
I play along. “What’s your name?”
“Forrest!” He shouts. “For Forrest Gump. Bama’s fastest player ever.”
I swallow hard. That’s Beau’s favorite movie. Beau is number four because of it, and that’s where this little boy gets his name.
Did Reese name him after Beau? Did she do it out of guilt? I ask myself all the time.
“Well, I played for Auburn,” I tell him. “Do you like them too?”
Reese beams at our exchange. Her smile lights up with her son in her arms.
“No,” Forrest answers like a kid, brutally honest. “But you play for Atlanta now, and they’re my most favorite, so it’s okay. You’re my favorite, too.”
“I am?” I laugh. “You sure? Do you even know my name?”
Please say it. Please know me. Please have one piece of me in your heart.
“You’re Colton Hawke!” he crows. “You’re the best! You’re the fastest like me!”
“Well, now I’m your biggest fan.” I want my son. I want to reach across and hold him in my arms, but I can’t. There’s too much press gathered around. “Do you want my game ball, Forrest?”
His eyes get big, lighting up like I’m Santa. “Really?”
“Yeah!” I hand it to him. “Keep it safe for me now. Okay? I’ll come throw it with you one day.”
“Will you really?” He smiles so cute.
He’s lost his front tooth. He’s getting so big. I’m losing so much time.
“Yes,” I promise. “Let’s take a picture. Then I’ll remember you and come visit. Okay?”
I turn, and there’s Scott, our publicist, waiting with one of our team photographers, just as I begged him to. I told Scott this kid is special, but he has no idea how much.
“Look at the camera,” Reese coaches Forrest.
