The last game of the season ended 31–14.

Not their house. Not their night. The scoreboard stayed lit long enough for the visiting crowd to finish yelling, then somebody killed it. The tunnel back to the locker room smelled like wet concrete and the end of something.

Kate had been in the stands. Mara too. Tate had seen both of them from the field in the fourth quarter and looked away like that would undo it.

Guys packed fast. Season over. No Monday film that mattered. Miller hugged people like the year had been better than it was. Coach said the things coaches say when there is nothing left to...