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)
Haven Falls tries to make a run for it, but my guys are too fast, coming in hot. He dodges and weaves as the crowd roars, but his footwork is lacking and in the most humiliating moment of the whole season, he fumbles, dropping the ball.
Jax is on it like hot cakes, catching it before it even hits the ground and taking off like a fucking rocket. He tucks the ball securely in his arms, and we all take off with him, adrenaline coursing through our veins. This is it. This is our game-winning play, and it’s about to be the biggest showstopper of the season.
His feet slam against the grass, propelling himself further up the field, dodging and weaving like the fucking pro he is. I move into position, ready to have his back wherever he needs it, just as Riley and Hudson do the same. But there’s too many of them.
Riley slams into one as number 19 sidesteps Hudson, getting on his nerves for the last fucking time.
“Go, go, go,” I chant, my sharp gaze whipping side to side as he creeps closer to the end zone. He pushes himself faster and just as he goes to adjust his hold on the ball, preparing for the best touchdown of the season, three Haven Falls players come out of nowhere.
Logan goes for one as I slam into another, but the third makes it through, crashing into Jax like a fucking freight train, his big-ass shoulder making fucking mincemeat of his stomach. The momentum of the hit has Jax flying off the ground and his agonized cry has me pulling up short, the game the furthest thing from my mind.
I double back, my eyes widening as I watch Jax go down hard, his back slamming into the ground as the fucker comes down on top of him. “FUCK,” Jax cries as Logan and Riley start bolting toward him. I reach them first and I grip the Haven Falls guy by the back of his shirt, ripping him off Jax and throwing him aside like a fucking ragdoll as Jax lets out a pained groan, curling into a fucking ball.
“JAX,” I shout, dropping down beside him, looking over him as the whistle signals another timeout. Jax scrambles, reaching for me and clutching onto my arm with everything he’s got, barely able to fucking breathe.
“FUCK,” he grunts, sucking in quick, sharp pants through his teeth, agony tearing across his face. “Something’s wrong. I can’t … I … fuck.”
He clutches his stomach as Logan’s knees slam down into the grass at his head. Logan screams for the medics, and I’ve barely had a chance to check over him before Logan’s hands are at Jax’s waist, tearing his shirt up and getting a look at the damage.
There’s deep bruising and it’s quickly spreading across his abdomen, a clear sign of deep internal bleeding. “FUCK,” Logan grunts, panic in his eyes as he glances up at me, almost begging me to tell him this is all some kind of fucking nightmare.
“You fucking idiot,” I berate, reliving that night all over again as I grip onto Jax’s hand. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Tears well in his eyes from the pain. “I had to play,” he chokes out.
“And now look at you,” Logan says. “I can’t fucking go through this again. I can’t fucking lose you.”
“It’s … it’s just a hiccup.”
“JAX,” Arizona screams from the sidelines, the assistant coach struggling to hold her back. Tears stream down her face, and there’s only ever been one other time I’ve seen her look so terrified. “Jax, you big fucking idiot.”
“Shit,” Jax grunts. “She’s gonna have my balls for this.”
“Out of the way,” the medics order, Coach Wyld racing in beside them. We all scramble back and it happens so fast. One second, he’s in agony on the grass and the next he’s being loaded into the back of an ambulance with Ari somehow at his side.
I stand with Logan, Riley, and Hudson, watching as the ambulance pulls away, the sirens blaring through the night as the girls come crashing into us. Chanel throws her arms around Logan. “He’s going to be okay,” she promises him, but we all know that’s not a promise she can make.
Logan shakes his head, a million different emotions swarming in his eyes. Anger. Frustration. Terror. “That should be me in there,” he spits, pulling out of Chanel’s arms. “Arizona has done nothing but fuck with his head for weeks, and now when it counts she wants to be the one by his fucking side? He’s my goddamn brother. My twin. I’m his family, not her.”
“Logan,” Coach Wyld says, jogging to catch up to us. “I’ve spoken to your father. He’ll be on the first flight home. As for the rest of—”
“The fuck were you thinking playing him?” Logan demands, getting in Wyld’s face. “He wasn’t cleared. Wasn’t even fucking close.”