“Let’s fucking go!” someone yelled from the stands. I grinned as I gripped my shoulder pads. This was the best.
A familiar scent floated toward me, and Ivy walked by. She carried the water bottles and handed them to us as she passed. Henry stood off to the right, Abe also doing the rounds with water.
She caught my gaze and winked before moving on.
I fucking lit up with her attention. I hadn’t forgotten about her or our deal during the game. I used it to play better. I had college-high numbers tonight and had one more chance to get a sack.
“Touchdown, Wolves!”
Fuck yes. Dean scored. We went for the field goal to be safe and were up seven. One minute, forty-five seconds on the clock.
Defense was out now, and I was a gunner for this instance. Since I was one of the faster defensive backs, I made it a personal goal to get to the receiver first and cause chaos. I had the perfect eyeline and targeted him. My feet hit the ground, and my chest heaved, but I got him before he made it ten yards.One minute, twenty seconds left.
They weren’t near field goal range, and they needed a touchdown to tie. I’d stop this.
Their quarterback would go first round next year, rivaling Dean with talent and skill, yet he was my enemy. If he broke through our defense, they’d score. He had a cannon for an arm and often threw left—where I was positioned. Good.
He called the play. It was go time.
I shoved one of their offense lineman and weaved to the right by a foot. I broke through and sacked their QB within five seconds.One minute left.My adrenaline was pumping. Every cell of my body buzzed with awareness. There were times as an athlete where you just had it, and that was me tonight. I felt fucking invincible. I’d remember this moment the rest of my life, sitting on a recliner talking shit to refs on TV.
This was a specific snapshot of my life I’d always remember.
“Dude, you’re fucking on fire tonight.”
“O’Toole, my man.”
“Fucking got the sauce.”
My teammates hit my back as we got into position. I now had three sacks and two forced fumbles. A fucking great game.
I didn’t sack him again, but we stopped a run, solidifying our win against Ohio. We were the away team, yet our fans traveled well, and the crowd roared. It was a blur of high fives and cheers, blue and orange everywhere as I grinned. Winning always felt like this. Addictive. How could I get this feeling without football?
You can’t walk away, not from this.
You could. You like games and helping others. You get a rush from leading people or coaching a kid game.
Nah, not like this.
But starting over on a team, not knowing anyone, in another city?
These memories are gonna be for life. You’ll never forget this moment, so leave it on the field and walk away happy. Leave with the best experience ever.
I shut my voice off. Not the time. I’d give the sport my all, this team my everything, regardless of my future. They deserved that, and all these unknowns were messing with me. I should be celebrating, not freaking out about the future.
“That’s the Callum I know.” Dean pulled me into a hug. “Great fucking game.”
“Wouldn’t have won without you.” I shoved him off, my gaze seeking one person in particular. I couldn’t describe this giddy feeling I had. When I played a great game in high school, I’d immediately find Ivy in the stands. She sat in the same spot every time, and her smile would feel like a second win. Looking back, that probably wasn’t normal, but I wanted it again here and now.
“Great game, O’Toole. Looking forward to watching tapes and seeing what you could’ve done better in the second quarter.” Coach hit my back and walked on.
I snorted.
“He’s good for you. Keeps your ego in check.”
Ah, there she is.
Ivy held out her knuckles in a fist. “Good game, Callum.”
