Pride, I finally realize.

I’m proud of him.

The announcer begins speaking, but I’m not paying attention to a word he’s saying. A pack of players clad in white jerseys appear on the field, and then a few minutes later, a horde of navy jerseys jog out as well. Their appearance draws roaring cheers and applause from the spectators, including Lionel, suggesting they’re the home team.

I scan the navy players anxiously, but they appear as nothing more than one giant blob of blue from this distance. Two navy players make their way over to the referee, along with two white jerseys. They confer for a moment, then return to their respective benches.

“Yes!” Lionel exclaims. “We won the coin toss.”

One of the navy players kicks the ball down the field, and a white jersey is tackled.

The game moves along slowly, and soon there are only a few minutes left in the third quarter. I’ve relaxed slightly, amidst a growing confidence I can, in fact, make it through this unscathed. At least visibly.

Just then, the voice over the loudspeaker announces, “And it looks like Coach Taylor is going to test out the Sharks’ new superstar, rookie Jace Dawson, for the first time.” A loud and enthusiastic roar greets this announcement.

A solitary navy figure jogs out onto the field from the group assembled along the sideline. My breath hitches as he’s surrounded by his teammates on the field.

I stand shakily and walk over to the buffet of food on autopilot. I order a glass of ice water from the waiter standing behind the bar, taking advantage of the opportunity to rein in my churning emotions away from the prying eyes of my father and Charles.

My eyes are glued to the television mounted above the bar and buffet as the players all assemble on either side of the line. Jace easily catches the ball he’s tossed. He pivots on the grass for an extended moment, looking for someone to pass to.

The camera zooms in on his face, offering me my first glimpse of Jace in eight months. Streaks of black are smeared underneath his gray eyes, clearly visible through the bars of his helmet in the high definition image. They scan the field as he tries to decide where he should throw it. He sends the ball flying up the field after a brief moment of indecision. The camera follows the brown ball spiraling rapidly through the air. It drops between the waiting hands of one of his receivers. The player begins to run, cradling the football like a baby.

“What an arm on Dawson,” is the commentary.

Most of the stadium seems to agree. I can hear the jubilant background noise on the television echoed around the cheering stadium as the player who caught the ball runs into the end zone. I walk back over to my seat, wanting to see Jace’s reaction to the touchdown without the glass proxy of a screen.

I expect the noise in the stadium to continue growing, but the sound of applause dies off abruptly instead. I hasten my steps until I arrive at the edge of the suite. I look down at the field, scanning it anxiously for the source of the sudden hush.