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“She’s alright,” Cornell said, taking a drink. “She’ll be home tomorrow. But it might be another week before she’s back at work.”
But fuck work. She’s home tomorrow, and that’s all that matters.
“Bet you’re proud of your boy,” Evan said to Peter. “Bet you never thought he’d wind up here with me after all those years.”
Peter shifted his shoulders. He knew his boss vaguely when Cornell played at Arkansas, and Evan was an assistant coach. “Well, to be honest, no, I didn’t. But”—he paused, looking at Cornell—“I think he’s found his place.”
Cornell had only been half-listening as the conversation continued, reviewing a string of texts between Jasper and a potential date. But his thumb hovered above the phone screen as soon as he heard it.
“I don’t know if he told you, but your son and I butted heads pretty bad over our last quarterback,” Evan said.
“Cornell’s a pretty good judge of character, but that came from his mother,” Peter told Evan. “I’ve been around the game long enough to know these things don’t come easy. Onward and upward, though, for everyone. I can’t imagine any school would touch that kid after what happened.”
Evan snorted. “You’d think that was the case. I’ve already got other Jucos calling to see if he’s as bad as he seems. I told them worse, but, you know, seems they’re fine making the same mistake I did.”
For fuck’s sake.
If steam could have shot out of Cornell’s ears, it would have.
“See man, she says, ‘I had a lot of fun,’” Jasper told him, pushing his phone toward Cornell. “That’s a green light, yeah? Cornell?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, sorry. Green light.” From his pocket, Cornell’s phone vibrated, and he pulled it out. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Jasper, flashing the phone to his father and heading out of the crowded bar.
“Hey. I thought you’d be sleeping.” It was quiet on the line. “Ali? You there?”
“I just woke up,” Ali said, her voice soft and groggy, underlit by something different that made Ali seem further away than she actually was.
Cornell wondered if she had another nightmare. “Are you okay?”
“How was the game?”
She’s avoiding.
“Why don’t I come get you tonight?”
His fingers twitched as his body continuously searched for her, eager to touch Ali in the smallest of ways—brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his hand on her hip as he slid past her at the bathroom sink—and his arms didn’t know what to do with themselves at night when their bed seemed impossibly empty. The mound of pillows was a poor substitute for her warm body.
Ali sighed. “I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Cornell immediately shut his eyes and stifled a groan, trying to calm the ping that bounced around the walls of his chest cavity—that’s what love feels like with no place to go, he thought.
“I know it’s only been two days, but I really miss you,” she whispered.
He glanced back at the bar. This is ridiculous. How can I be celebrating when she needs me? “I’m coming now. Let me go and—”
“No. It’s too late to drive so far.”
“I’d run to the end of the earth and back for you. Don’t you remember?” He expected a laugh, a chuckle, a sarcastic remark, but Ali remained quiet. “You don’t sound okay.” You don’t sound okay at all.
“Can you tell me about the game?” Her voice softened even more. “How was it?”
Cornell knew Ali cared about the game, the team, and how everyone played. But he also felt in that moment—deep in his bones—that it was the furthest thing on her mind. The soft and uncertain tone, the way she had said, “I just wanted to hear your voice,” didn’t make him feel wanted or needed. Instead, Cornell felt crushingly sad.
But Cornell would do anything for her, so he walked up and down the sidewalk in front of Henley’s and told her how Julian led the team like a force, how Marquis had run eighty yards in the first half alone, how he was proud of every single player that suited up. It was the kind of game that made him remember why he loved football so much in the first place.
“Next week, you’re going to have to come. I’ve got everyone breathing down my neck about you,” he told her. “I forgot you’re a lot more popular than me.”
The long silence made Cornell wonder if Ali had fallen asleep. He fidgeted with his baseball hat nervously.
