When the bus was out of sight, an explosion, like a sunburst, sent vibrant blue streaks of lightning across the sky. The image was as awesome as it was beautiful. Thunder quaked the ground before rumbling into the distance. The sound faded slowly, along with the hiss of the wind, until the world at last fell silent. Still.

Cole held Savannah close. They stood motionless, unspeaking, for some time. He stepped away, only far enough to wipe tear tracks from her face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m unhurt if that’s what you mean.” Her speech was fractured. She pulled a Kleenex from her jeans pocket and wiped her eyes. “Some fireworks, huh? As victory celebrations go, I found that to be as bitter as it was sweet.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Victory. The game had ended only a half hour before, but it already felt so distant, even inconsequential. Cole looked back toward town. The glow of the stadium lights were still reflecting off the low-hovering clouds.

Savannah followed his gaze. “They still don’t know, do they? All those people. The fans. The parents. They still don’t know the boys are gone.”

He shook his head. “No. They still don’t know. No one does, but us.”

“That’s what hurts the most, you know? What just happened, beautiful as it was, it was still the end of a lot of lives. Young lives.”

“But it was a better end. Like you said before, what’s done is done. All we can focus on is what happens next, right? So I guess the question is, how much do we tell?”

“All of it,” she answered without hesitation. “We tell the whole story, from beginning to end. And we tell it truthfully. The people of this town deserve that.”

Cole didn’t have to consider it. He knew she was right. “Yes, they deserve the truth. But the truth isn’t easy to believe, and we’re the only two people who can verify it. How do we convice them?”

“It’s my job to convince them.” Her determined eyes came up to meet his. “I’ll write it exactly as it happened. From the very beginning I was in this for the story, remember? Guess I should be more careful what I wish for.”

“I know what you mean. I always wanted a team that played like their lives depended on it.” He squeezed her hands. “You write it. I promise to back up every word. And if people still find it hard to swallow, we’ve still got Coodles to—”

Her eyes widened. “My God! Coodles. I’d forgotten.” She brought a hand up to her open mouth. “God, Cole … seeing what became of Curtis, I’m guessing Coodles’s bite is contagious, right?”

He nodded soberly. “I can’t say it for sure, but I have to find out.”