KNOX

We won.

Twenty-four to twenty-one. Ugly. Late field goal. The kind of win that should have felt clean and didn’t. I stood in the locker room with the noise crashing around me and waited for the feeling to show up. It didn’t. Guys were yelling. Somebody dumped Gatorade. Miller tried to grab my helmet and I let him. I watched Tate across the room pull his jersey off and I looked at the scrape on his ribs like it belonged to me.

The rule is for losses. I made that rule. I said it out loud so it would stay true.

I didn’t lock the door.

I dressed fast....