“That makes sense,” I respond woodenly.

I’ve spent every moment since I left this country trying to forget my time here, but everyone else seems to have interpreted the melancholy as homesickness. I school my features. I can do this. I can sit through one football game and keep Jace banished from my mind.

“Thank you for setting this up. It was very thoughtful of you,” I tell Lionel, finally finding my manners. He’s sitting on the other side of Charles, and leans forward to reply to me.

“You’re welcome. Although my motives were partially selfish. John’s been going on about their new quarterback for months. The team has been waiting for a first-round draft pick for a while. This is their first sold-out preseason game in years.”

“New quarterback?” I echo.

A horrifying possibility is dawning on me.

“Yes. He’s garnered the most excitement the league has had in years. Incredibly talented. He’s quite handsome as well.” Lionel winks. “Was with some of his teammates at the same restaurant as us a few weeks ago, and Margaret was enamored,” he teases his wife.

She elbows him good-naturedly in response.

“Come on,” Charles groans.

“What’s his name?” I ask. I attempt to sound nonchalant. I’m not sure if I succeed, since I can hardly hear my voice over the pounds of my thundering heart while I wait for his response.

“Lawson?” Lionel answers. “No, Dawson. Jace Dawson.”

My breathing stutters. The sound of whooshing blood fills my ears. Heat floods my body.

I sit frozen in my seat, unable to move even if I wanted to. The prospect of watching a football game and acting normal was daunting. The thought of watching Jace play football and acting normal seems impossible. I take deep breaths, trying to regain control over my overwhelmed body.

He’s here.

Not just in the same country, not just in the same state, but somewhere in this stadium beneath me. That knowledge is more than I can process after having spent the past eight months resigning myself to the fact I’d spend the rest of my life at least an ocean apart from him.

“Vivienne, are you all right?” Charles asks. He raises a hand to touch my face, but I flinch away.

My father looks over at me as well, twin lines of worry forming between his eyes.

“I’m fine. My stomach is bothering me again,” I reply, staring straight ahead and hoping they’ll both buy it as an excuse for my increasingly odd behavior.

“Would you like to leave?” my father asks.

Fleeing is tempting, but there’s a larger part of me that’s rooted in place. That’s rejoicing.

Jace will never know I was here, but I’ll know. I’ll get to see him live his dream, if only for the four quarters the game lasts for. It’s more than I ever expected I might have. I assumed he was drafted, but the knowledge he was not only drafted but is already viewed as a star hits me with an unexpected emotion.