West grinned and gave me a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”
The crowd roared to life—shouts, stomps, something that might’ve been a kazoo as West called out the count, but none of it was louder than my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
It was always like this. Not nerves, exactly. More like adrenaline coursing through my veins at the chance to play the game I loved for a living.
We were up by seven points with only a few minutes left and possession of the ball. Things were looking good, but I never wanted to get too comfortable.
I chanted the same mantra I’d carried in my head for two decades.
Show up. Play hard. Don’t screw it up.
My job was simple: protect West and give him the time to work his magic. And I was damn good at it.
“Set—hike!”
I exploded forward, slamming into the opposing team’s defensive end with a solid blow to his chest. My hands locked in place, and I pushed him back with every bit of strength I could—which was quite a lot, considering my size.
Everything about the play was standard. Same formation. Same footwork. Same muscle memory firing in rhythm. I had the guy locked up—hands solid on his chest, knees bent, weight balanced perfectly over the balls of my feet.
But then suddenly, a helmet slammed straight into my side.
Motherfucker.
My breath vanished. One second, I was upright; the next, I was falling straight down. My helmet hit the turf with a thud that rattled through my spine.
Voices rose around me—whistles and someone yelling my name—but it was like I was hearing everything from yards away. The world tilted sideways, and darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. I tried to move, just enough to prove I was fine, but my body refused to cooperate. My head felt nailed to the turf.
My thoughts tumbled and scattered. No order, no sense, just broken pieces drifting too far out of reach for me to comprehend.
I didn’t know how long I stayed down—flat on my back, drifting in and out—when someone knelt next to me.
“Stay down. We’ve got you.” The words came from a trainer’s voice, one I recognized.
Everything in me wanted to get up, shake it off, and get back in the damn game.
But I knew I couldn’t.
The next few minutes were a blur of medics swarming and assessing me. I think the crowd cheered when I finally made it to my feet, a man braced on each side, helping me to the sidelines.
When I looked up at the big screen, it was showing Ellie in one of the suites. Her hands were pressed over her mouth, her eyes wide.
God, she was fucking beautiful, even with her expression all adorably scared. She was a dream in a sea of jerseys and stadium lights.
I couldn’t leave her looking like that, worrying about little ol’ me.
So, I summoned whatever scraps of bravado I had left and did exactly what West said to.
I blew her a kiss.
Followed it with a wink that probably looked a little more like a twitch, considering I could still barely stand with the pounding in my head.
The crowd lost it, cheering as if I’d scored the winning touchdown instead of getting my ass knocked into next week.
TWO
Ellie
The stadium was loud,the kind of loud that rattled your hands and made your ears feel like they were vibrating. But inside my head?
