The week started like a freight train.
Media interviews. Strategy meetings. Calls from sponsors. Noise from every direction.
Brandon was exhausted.
But not physically.
Spiritually.
It wasn't that he was losing faith… he was just drained.
The more attention the world gave him, the more pressure he felt to be perfect. And perfection? That wasn't the goal.
Righteousness was.
But sometimes, in the world of sports and fame, the two got mixed up.
One night after practice, Brandon skipped the team dinner and drove straight to the chapel. The doors were still open, lights dimmed. He sat on the back row, slouched forward, face in his hands.
He didn't even speak at first. He just breathed.
Then finally, a whisper: "Heavenly Father… I'm tired. I don't want to carry all this alone."
No spotlight.
No stadium.
Just a son talking to his Father.
And slowly… peace returned.
Across the city, Genevieve was in the middle of her own storm.
She'd gotten a call from a family member—her cousin back home had been in a car accident. Nothing fatal, but it shook her. It reminded her just how fragile everything was.
She called Brandon, trying not to cry. "Baby, I'm okay. But I just… I need to be close to you tonight."
"You will be," he said softly. "Come over. We'll pray."
Later that night, they sat on the floor of his apartment, wrapped in a blanket, scriptures open between them.
Brandon read aloud from Doctrine and Covenants 121:
"My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment..."
Genevieve leaned into his side. "It's hard to remember that in the moment. But I know it's true."
Brandon kissed her temple. "That's why we remind each other."
They prayed. Not just for strength. But for perspective.
For gratitude.
For grace.
The next morning, Brandon woke up to a text from his coach:
Coach Daniels: "Front office is talking about playoffs. Pressure's on. Stay sharp."
And underneath it:
Genevieve: "Pressure creates diamonds. God's already polishing you. You've got this, my QB."
He smiled.
And that was all it took to start the day with purpose.
At practice, Brandon led with fire. Commanded the huddle. Encouraged rookies. Lifted the vibe. He wasn't perfect.
But he was faithful.
And everyone around him felt it.
That night, a reporter asked him during a press conference, "How do you keep it together with all the pressure?"
Brandon smiled slightly. "I don't. God does."
Meanwhile, Genevieve had begun organizing a youth devotional at her local ward. She wanted to speak to the girls about courage, callings, and Christ.
She told Brandon about it over dinner, nervously stirring her pasta.
"I don't know what to say. What if I freeze?"
"You won't," Brandon said. "You have the Spirit. That's what they'll feel. That's what they'll remember."
She looked up at him. "Will you come?"
Brandon smiled. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
That Sunday evening, Brandon sat in the back of the cultural hall as Genevieve stood at the podium, her voice a little shaky at first… but then, full of power.
"I used to chase the world's version of success," she said, looking out at the teens in the room. "Fame, roles, red carpets. But it never gave me the peace I feel when I'm living my purpose—when I'm with Him. And now, I've found a love that pushes me toward God instead of away from Him."
Her eyes met Brandon's.
"And I pray you'll wait for that kind of love, too."
The room was silent.
The Spirit was thick.
And Brandon knew, without a doubt, that Genevieve wasn't just his girlfriend…
She was his spiritual equal.
His eternal teammate.