Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Bri’s words are like a bucket of ice water coming down over my head. “Oh fuck,” I breathe, terror like I’ve never known rocking through my chest. “She’s going to kill me.”
“Better her than me,” Bri mutters.
My brows furrow and I grip her chin, tilting it up until she meets my eye. “Are you okay with this?”
She shrugs her shoulders, uncertainty in her beautiful eyes. “I just need a minute to adjust,” she admits, being honest. “But don’t worry about me. We’ll work it out together. Just go back to the locker room, kick ass in your game, and tonight, we can figure out how we’re going to make this work.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” she tells me. “The good, bad, and the ugly, Tanner. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” I tell her, finally able to take a deep, calming breath.
Bri smiles up at me before squeezing my hand again. “Go,” she says before indicating to the girls crowded behind her, each of them watching with concern. “We need to find our seats, but if you don’t kick ass on that field and make me proud, then we’ll really have issues.”
A smirk kicks up the corner of my mouth, and I drop a kiss to her lips before turning and sprinting back to the locker room, more than ready to make her proud.
Chapter 26
TANNER
Sweat drips from my brow as we face the team from Haven Falls. We have eight minutes left on the clock, and that time is quickly slipping away. The first half was neck and neck, but moving into the second, my boys pulled us through, and we’ve been holding on to the lead ever since. But one minor fuck up and we could lose it all.
We jog across the field, quickly making our way back to Coach Wyld after the Haven Falls coach called a timeout. I don’t blame them though. They need every advantage they can get right now. This game is too close not to utilize every card you’ve got up your sleeve.
My guys look rough. They’re exhausted, but looking around, I know they still have enough gas in the tank to get us through to the end. It’s been a fast game, but we’re not done yet.
Coach Wyld is red in the face, but it’s nothing new. I’m surprised he hasn’t lost his voice after all the yelling he’s been doing, but this is standard practice for a game night. He gives it his all, and it’s part of the reason I respect him so much.
“Logan,” he says as we quickly huddle around, Jax jumping up from the bench to give his two cents wherever he can. “Keep doing what you’re doing. They’re fast, but they won’t be able to catch you. Work those reflexes, be ahead of the game.”
Logan nods and Coach quickly moves on, working his way around the circle. “Bellamy, watch that footwork. Number 19’s been coming for you all night. Don’t let him take the advantage.”
Hudson nods. “Yes, Coach,” he says, barely getting the words out before Wyld starts in on someone else. One by one, he quickly spits out his orders and I find myself lifting my gaze to the grandstand. Bri’s eyes are already on mine, and the moment her lips split into a wide, dazzling smile, I feel like I’ve been injected with the most potent drug.
“Tanner,” Coach snaps. “Where’s your fucking head?”
“In the game, Coach.”
“Really?”
Fuck. “Yes, Coach.”
“Because it looks like it’s up in the stands with your girlfriend.”
“No, Coach. It’s in the game.”
His gaze narrows on me, and I know I’m going to pay for this come Monday during the afternoon training session. “That’s what I thought,” he finally says in a low tone filled with the kind of authority that has me bending to his every will.
Knowing what’s good for me, I keep my fucking mouth shut and pay attention as he continues his way around the circle. Jax bounces at his side, desperate for a little action, though we all know he has no chance in hell.
A bottle of water sails across our huddle, and I quickly catch it and take a sip, splashing some onto my face. As the whistle blows, Coach gives one final nod, ready to send us back onto the field, but as I turn to run back into position, one of my linebackers goes down like a sack of shit.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, my eyes going wide as I race toward him. “We need a medic!”
People swarm from everywhere—our coach and the assistant coach, the first aid team, the fucking water boy, even a few people from the stands. “What the fuck happened?” Coach Wyld calls out, shoving some nosy asshole out of the way to get to his player.
“Don’t know,” I say from my knees beside his head, jamming my fingers against his throat to check for a pulse. “He just collapsed. He’s got a pulse but it’s weak.”