Chapter 132 Fuel

Chapter 132 Fuel
Jake POV

I slam into the tackling dummy so hard it flips completely off its stand, and Coach's whistle shrieks across the field a half second later.
"Mercer! Ease up before you break the equipment!"
I straighten up, chest heaving, sweat dripping despite the cold evening air, and something in my body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline I haven't figured out how to burn off. Ever since Penny's text about that message, the one about her mom leaving the hospital, the one neither of us can stop thinking about, I've been throwing myself into every single practice like the field's the only place left where I actually have control over anything.
"Sorry, Coach." I set the dummy back upright, breathing hard.
Coach studies me a long moment, clipboard tucked under one arm, something calculating behind his expression that I can't quite read. "Walk with me a second."
I follow him off to the side of the field, away from the rest of the team running drills, and something in my stomach tightens automatically, bracing for whatever's coming.
"I got a call this morning," Coach says, choosing his words carefully the way he always does when something big's about to land. "From a scout. A real one, Jake. Big program, the kind of school that changes everything if it works out."
My heart stutters. "Okay."
"He's coming to the championship game," Coach continues. "Specifically to watch you. Not the team in general, Jake. You."
I stare at him, waiting for the catch, because it feels like there's always a catch lately. "With everything going on with my family? I figured that story alone would've scared him off completely."
"I asked him about that directly," Coach admits. "Told him straight up what's been happening, the investigation, the arrest, all of it, since it's public record anyway and I wasn't about to let him find out from a headline instead of from me." He pauses, something almost proud creeping into his voice. "You know what he said? He said talent that survives real adversity is worth more than talent that's never been tested. Said he's watched enough tape on you to know you're the real deal regardless of what's happening off the field. Your family's drama isn't the story he's interested in, Jake. Your play is."
Something loosens in my chest, hearing that, a tightness I didn't even fully realize I was carrying until this exact second. Because ever since Coach first warned me weeks ago about recruiters not liking drama, I've been quietly terrified that my dad's mistakes were going to cost me the one thing that's always been fully, completely mine.
"So what do I do?" I ask, voice steadier now.
"You play like you've been playing all season," Coach says simply. "Except championship week, you play as if it matters more than ever, because it does. This is your shot, Jake. Everything else going on in your life, all of it, that's not a distraction from this moment. That's fuel for it, if you let it be."
I think about that the whole rest of practice, replaying it in my head through every sprint, every drill, every hit I take and give back twice as hard. Fuel. Not a burden dragging me down, but something I can actually turn into power if I choose to see it that way.
I train harder than I ever have that week. Extra sprints after regular practice ends. Film study late into the night, breaking down every play the scout might be watching for. I channel every single thing that's happened, my dad's arrest, losing the house, Penny's terrifying messages, Karen in that hospital bed, all of it, straight into the field, into every route I run, every tackle I make, every single moment where I get to control exactly one thing in a life that's felt completely out of control for weeks.
Penny notices the shift immediately when she comes to watch one of my last practices before the championship, sitting in the bleachers with her decathlon medal still occasionally showing up around her neck when she forgets to take it off.
"You look different out there," she tells me afterward, walking me to my car. "Sharper. Like you're not just playing anymore. Like you're fighting for something."
"I am," I admit, pulling her close. "Everything that's happened, I keep thinking about what my dad said, about starting over, about actually trying this time. I want to give him something to actually be proud of too. Something real, not just me holding the family together by sheer panic."
She smiles up at me, something soft and proud in her eyes. "For what it's worth, I think you're already something worth being proud of. Regardless of any scout, any game, any scholarship."
I kiss her then, right there in the parking lot, slow and grateful, and for a few stolen seconds everything else fades into the background, the investigation, the threats, the mystery surrounding both our families. Just us, standing in the cooling evening air, allowing ourselves one uncomplicated moment.
It doesn't last.
My phone buzzes hard in my pocket, and Penny's does too, almost simultaneously, both of us pulling back to check our screens at the same time.
Mine is from Maren. Short, urgent, nothing like her usual careful texting style.
Jake, Karen's fully conscious now and talking clearly. She asked to see you specifically. Not the police, not your dad. You. She says there's something she has to tell you in person before the championship game, and she says it can't wait even one more day.
I look up at Penny, whose face has gone pale reading whatever landed on her own phone.
"Yours too?" I ask.
She nods slowly, turning her screen toward me, and my stomach drops reading the message from Detective Reyes glowing there.
Penny, we need you at the station tonight. Karen specifically requested you be present for this conversation as well. She says what she has to say involves both you and Jake equally, and Penny, she says it's the reason your two families have been connected this entire time.