Page 112 of Play the Last Card

I look up at the church as I get closer to the front steps. My heart pounds in my chest and my eyes itch. I’m man enough to admit that when Coach called to tell me the news, I cried. Billy was special.

He meant a lot to the Broncos organization.

He meant a lot to Coach.

Most of all, he meant a lot to Ivy.

It kills me that I have to sit on the sidelines right now. Ivy asked for space and I have to give it to her, as much as I fucking hate the idea.

When she walked away from me in the hospital on the day my season ended, it crushed me. I don’t know where we stand right now. I don’t know if I’m someone she wants to see. To talk too.

But fuck do I want to see her, comfort her, be there for her.

There isn’t a reason on this earth that would keep me away from being at this church today. Not the shitty weather, not the fact I haven’t had a full conversation with my girlfriend in weeks—and yes, she’s still my girlfriend regardless of how she walked away from me or tried to break up with me.

I hurry up the stone steps of the church and through the heavy wood doors. People are everywhere, finding their seats. Everyone is dressed in black suits, black dresses. There isn’t a color in sight. Well, except the crisp navy and white jersey draped over the coffin in front of the altar.

Booker is in large, white letters.

A few heads turn my way but I pay them no mind. In the corner of my eye, I notice Coach standing a little out of his seat when he sees me but I don’t stop and I don’t turn to him.

My focus is on the girl sitting in the very first row. Her hair falls in loose curls down her back. I see Katie sitting next to her, body turned into her friends so that she can speak quietly into her ear. Grant, and two other elderly people are sitting on the other side of Katie.

I slow my steps as I come to the end of the aisle.

Even in her grief, she’s beautiful.

“Hey,” I say. I keep my words low, not wanting my voice to carry too far back over the crowd. I’m not here for them. I watch Ivy’s eyes close and her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a shaky breath. But she doesn’t look up or give me her eyes.

“Hi, Scott.” Katie gives me a kind smile. “Thank you for coming.”

I only nod at her, glancing briefly at the people sitting next to Grant who are staring at me with approval in their gaze. They must be Katie’s parents.

I take the empty seat between Ivy and the edge of the pew. Our thighs press together. She’s wearing a simple dress under a coat and black stockings. On her hands, she wears black leather gloves.

My eyes don’t leave her face as I take her hands in mine and gently remove her gloves. I place them on the seat beside me and tangle my fingers with hers. Eventually, the ice cold of her skin warms up in mine. Her head turns, just a little, and her body sinks into mine. Her cheek rests gently on my shoulder and her fingers tighten around mine.

I don’t let go.

The minister that performs the service is respectful, reflecting on Billy’s life with ease and a little bit of humor. I didn’t get to know him for very long, but I think he would have kind of hated it. Billy was always smiling, always going around telling jokes and laughing. There’s not enough color in the room.

Ivy’s hands are still wrapped up tightly in mine when Coach and a few others carry Billy from the church to a Beatles song. She doesn’t make any indication that she intends to follow them out, so we stay put. Over her head, I give Katie a subtle nod and she takes my hint.

The rest of the guests follow Katie’s example and start exiting the church.

Quiet settles around us. Ivy doesn’t move.

I turn and press my lips into her hair, inhaling the rose scent of her shampoo. The arm that’s wrapped around her shoulders gently guides her to stand and turn to face me. For the first time since sitting down, our hands drop and I instantly pull her against my chest. My arms wrap tightly around her and she sags into my chest.

Ivy presses her whole body into me, shaking a little. I tighten my arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I murmur quietly into herhair. “I’m so, so sorry.”

We stand there in silence. I rest a cheek on her head, arms still around her, keeping her pressed against me.

“It will be okay. I promise,” I whisper into the empty church. Ivy makes no effort to reply and I don’t push her too. After a few more silent moments just holding her, I glance up. Feeling eyes on us, I look around and find Katie standing at the entrance of the church, watching us with a sad smile on her face.

I pull back but don’t take away my touch. I don’t want to let go. I never want to let her go.