Because safe doesn’t prove anything.
Knowing just where to look, I glance up at where I know Sutton is seated, her hands wrapped around the railing, her eyes watching every move I make like she knows exactly what I’m about to do.
“Set—”
I pause, adjusting the play in my head. There’s a window here. It’s small and it’s fucking risky, but it’s there.
And I want it.
I want the throw.
I want the yardage.
I want the moment.
“Set, hut!”
The ball snaps into my hands. I drop back—one, two, three—clean footwork, smooth and controlled. The pocket forms around me exactly like it should, my line holding strong, giving me time, and then it collapses before I’m ready.
I feel it before I see it. The pressure folding in from the left, a split-second shift in the line that shouldn’t be happening.
Fuck!
Someone missed their block.
I should throw it away. I know I should, but I don’t because I see the break open downfield. Because I’ve got half a second more.
Because I’ve got something to prove.
So, I hold onto the ball.
And that’s my big mistake.
A wall of muscle slams into me from my blindside, driving straight through my ribs. My feet leave the turf and my helmet snaps back and then there’s nothing.
No air.
No sound.
No color.
I hit the ground hard enough it rattles through my bones, and suddenly my body forgets how to breathe.
Shit.
My chest locks up as my lungs empty, like someone reached inside me and just…hit the power button. I can hear a whistle somewhere far away. Teammates shouting, footsteps pounding toward me, but it’s all muffled and distant. My vision blurs at the edges and I try to pick my head up to see what happened.
“Haynes! Stay down!”
Hands are on me, helmets crowding my line of sight. I don’t respond, mainly because I can’t. I can’t get a damn breath in no matter how hard I try. Panic claws up my throat, sharp and fast.
Not here.
Not now.
“Talk to me, Shep.” Sebastian’s voice is calm with the subtle hint of brotherly panic. I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but nothing comes out.
My chest burns and my fingers twitch against the turf and then the noise fades again. Not the stadium noise, but everything else, because my focus locks onto one thing. One person.
