She’ll be okay.
“Slater! Get your head back in the game!” The voice takes me off guard, and I turn to see Peter, the manager of The Missarali Storks, glaring at me from the sidelines.
I can’t help but grunt.
Nice of the guy to finally show up.
My feet push off the turf. The defensive back is at my hip, but I pretend he’s not there as I glance up at the ball that’s just been thrown in my direction. My legs pump harder, and with one more step, I swipe the ball from the air, clutching it to my chest. My fingers curl around the leather—cool and textured against my clammy palms.
The end zone is just ahead, but I can feel the defender's shadow creeping up on me—so close he’s just inches away from swiping at me and crushing me to the ground.
I swear I hear Mae’s voice, loud and encouraging, and with her in my mind, I take one final pace, the end zone line disappearing under my cleats. Then, I’m across it, the crowd hooting and my teammates rushing over to smack my helmet in appreciation.
I should have brain damage with the amount they do it.
The final whistle is blown, indicating that the Missarali Storks have won, and Evan pats my back as he beams. “Nice work, Captain.”
Gazing out at my team, a warm feeling swells in my heart. These guys have been my family when I had no one. They’ve worked so hard. And I know they’ll do it. They can win this. They just don’t need me for it—not when my heart isn’t entirely in the game, not when the media will focus on me and my scandal if I wait until after we win to announce what Mae and I are, detracting from their hard work and dedication.
Because although most people would feel ecstatic scoring that touchdown, all I can think about is never having to do it again, and they deserve a captain whose passion is spilling from his ears.
My father catches my attention in the crowd. He’s watching me, head cocked and lips flat as he follows my gaze to the beautiful woman who’s stolen my heart. He shakes his head subtly, and I notice his fingers fiddling with the pocket of his fleece, pulling out a thick wad of photos.
Another silent warning.
Reminding me of what he has on me.
Reminding me that my role here as captain for the Storks can be over in a second with the flick of his wrist.
Reminding me that he has the control. The power.
He always has.
Rage seethes inside me. This man is nothing to me. He may be my flesh and blood, but I’m not allowing him to dictate my life anymore.
Not when Mae is on the line.
Yanking my helmet off, I begin moving over to her, raising my eyebrows at my father. My face is blank as I stare at him.
His eyes are toxic, latching onto me, trying to suck all the courage from my flesh.
But he’s nothing but an ineffective leech. Burdensome and irritating. Useless to me.
The crowd quiets, and I’m well aware my form is enlarged on the jumbotron above, the cameras following my movement. I stop in front of Mae.
“What are you doing?” she mutters to me, eyes flashing with a hint of concern, but I pick up on the way her teeth clamp down on her lower lip to stifle her smile.
Challenging.
Daring.
This woman.
“Taking the power back,” I say, right as I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her.
Nothing else matters right now. This kiss is being live-streamed to millions of people across America, and still, I can’t find a fuck to give. Because football is no longer my priority. I’ve come to realise it never really was. It just happened to be one of the only things I actually cared about.
Mae has shown me I’m way more than football, though. And I hope she knows she’s more than just a daughter her mother dislikes. More than a veterinarian student. More than a member of the Missarali cheerleading squad.
