Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
It does mean something.
For a year, it’s meant everything.
What if he wins?
Will I still go home Sunday?
I can’t fucking walk in that house in no better position than when I left. With him knowing he won everything. Him knowing that he beat me at everything.
I stand there, my shallow breathing hard and fast as it pours in and out of my nose.
Eyes burning, I turn to her and take her face, brushing her cheek with my thumb. “You still have two more nights in Weston. We’re not done.”
I leave, the warning still hanging in the air as I dive into the locker room to shower.
He’s going to win…
Second place…
Does she think that?
I blink long and hard as I stand under the spray, pushing it out of my mind. I have to clear my head, stay in the moment, and do my job.
This is about a game. It’s my turn.
My brain drifts back to the doubt minutes later when I’m dressing, and I shove it away again.
It arises still when some of us climb into our cars and some of us into the bus as we head to Helm’s Field.
We’ll push them back.
Every time.
We’ll win.
But the more I try to talk myself up, the emptier I feel, and I have to force my breathing to slow down as we dress in one of their locker rooms, and I feel the walls start closing in as we run onto the field.
If we lose, what then?
I twist my head, cracking my neck as the stadium fills and people walk to their seats with drinks and popcorn.
What then?
“It’s not the last game of the season,” the announcer booms over the loudspeaker, “but it’s certainly our favorite! Welcome one and all to Friday Night Football! This game is sponsored by…”
“Are your parents here?” Farrow asks next to me.
I look around, scanning the Pirate sideline and then the fifty-yard line seats across from me. My dad will want to have the best view.
“They wouldn’t miss it,” I tell him, still not finding them, though.
“Well, at least Ciaran’s on your side,” he says.
I follow his gaze behind us to my grandfather sitting in the front row, tapping away on his phone.
My grandfather wouldn’t choose sides with his grandchildren.
He’d show up to support his son, though. I dart my gaze to Farrow and then the field.
I pull on my helmet, finding Kade across the field surrounded by his teammates as they listen to their coach’s instructions.
Just then, he shoots his arm in the air, looking to the end zone as if waving. I glance, finally seeing our parents. They sit on top of the flat roof of the pavilion that houses a couple of picnic tables beyond the field goal posts and the chain-link fence. I smile, making out my parents and A.J., as well as Jared, Jax, and their families. A couple of extra kids sit with them, and I think they must be Aro’s brother and sister that Jax and Juliet foster.
Hawke and Aro are present, too, and everyone sits on camp chairs with a couple of coolers around.
They found a way to watch without picking sides.
Some are dressed in Pirate colors, while a few—like Jared—don’t go in for things like team pride. My dad wears an orange and black T-shirt, but a wolf’s head hat. I shake with laughter at the long-ass snout protruding off his forehead, because he’s supporting both of his sons and doesn’t give a shit about looking ridiculous.
I study each form from a distance, not seeing Dylan among them at all.
Not with Aro. Not with her parents.
I look behind me, not spotting her with Mace or Coral, and I don’t find her on the other side, either. She could be here. It’s a lot of people.
I’m not paying attention to the announcer, and only know it’s time for the coin toss when Farrow whips his hand at my stomach. “Let’s go.”
With our helmets on, Constin, Farrow, Calvin, and I head to the middle of the field, Kade and his crew walking to meet us.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the referee says. “Let’s have a fun, clean game—”
But Kade is speaking before he’s done. “Switched sides, huh?” he asks me. “I was hoping to see you running after me.”
I turn my eyes to the referee.
“Heads.” He shows us the coin and then flips it. “Tails.” He points to us. “You’re the visitors. Call it in the air, please.”
He tosses it up, and I hear Farrow say, “Tails.”
It lands on the turf below, the referee leaning over to read it. “And it’s tails.”
“We’ll take the ball,” I announce.
My guys start to leave, and Kade’s do as well.
Kade stares at me. “I promised a nice, crisp fifty-dollar bill every time they sack you,” he tells me. “Try not to let it happen too much.”
He grins and walks away, and I turn, Farrow at my side.