Page 76 of Sneak Attack

But most importantly, I was counting the clock, not until the game ended in two minutes and thirteen seconds while we had a lead of ten, but until I could walk into my parents’ house and plant a kiss on Eden’s cheek that would be sure to turn her cheek the color of a fire engine.

As soon as the clock ticked down, and the final score of twenty-eight to eighteen lit up the scoreboard, Davis Hall threw his arm around my shoulders and yanked me around.

“Undefeated, QB! How’s that feel?”

I chuckled and shoved him off me. “It’s game two.”

Every win felt damn good, though.

“I’ll say it after every game we stay that way. With your arm and my speed, I’ll be saying it a lot.”

Together, we walked toward the center of the field and shook hands with players and coaches before heading off to the locker room.

“Damn, I love this game,” Hall said, swinging his helmet. “Best damn game to play.”

There was always something about rookie’s attitudes, even in preseason. They were infectious with their excitement and optimism. Davis was getting a ton of attention since he’d been one of the top five running backs in the country at Clemson. They were a fierce rival with my brother’s team, and I knew Davis well since Graham’s job was often to take Hall out the last couple years. The kid was loud and fun, but he was also as down-to-earth, levelheaded as they came.

A good kid with a good head on his shoulders, he wasn’t one of the fools who hit the NFL, spent their millions in signing bonuses and crap that really didn’t matter in life and swung his fame around like a badge of honor.

“What are you doing after this?” I asked him.

“Coming to Mama B’s for dinner.” He smirked. “Where else would I be on a Sunday night?”

He didn’t need the invite. He’d stayed with me for two weeks before training camp while he waited to close on his condo in the city. It wasn’t super common, but it happened, and I was more than willing to take him in. Since then, Ma always made sure he knew he was always welcome. He’s originally from Nebraska and his parents were at last week’s game to see him get his first preseason start, but they weren’t planning on coming back to see him again until our regular season first home game.

“Jasper will be thrilled.” I stopped him before we hit the locker room. “Remember that woman I talked about last week? Eden?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his cheek like he was thinking, trying to remember.

“She’ll be there too, so be cool, okay?”

“You betcha.” Blue eyes gleamed with mischief.

I shook my head. “Seriously dude. Marley too, so don’t make a fool out of yourself, all right?”

He placed his hand to his chest. “Moi?”

I slapped his shoulder and almost shoved him into Bronsky, my left guard, who pushed him farther away. “Exactly.”

Hall laughed. A good head on his shoulders, slightly immature—he reminded me a lot of my own brother, and when Graham couldn’t be there, Hall was second best.

I should probably tell him that sometime.

* * *

I loved the house I’d had built and the home I created with Jasper, but there was nothing better than stepping foot into my childhood home, a place I’d always been loved and accepted for exactly who I was and not what I was good at. A tightened little stress ball deep in my chest I usually carried with me, all the responsibilities I had as a young dad and professional athlete released like a valve as soon as I stepped inside, and the soft, minimal floral scent of Ma’s perfume mixed with the tangy spice of whatever Italian dish she was cooking up invaded my senses.

Jasper’s feet pounded on their worn wood floor straight to me.

“Daddy!”

I crouched down, picked him up, and threw him in the air before hugging him tight. “Have fun today?”

“You didn’t play a lot.”

“Nope. Usually don’t in preseason.” Jasper had never missed a home game of mine his entire life except for when he was two and had the flu around Thanksgiving, but every once in a while, like now, it hit me how little he remembered from year to year.

“Are you not good? Because Tim at school doesn’t get picked on any teams ever because he can’t catch a ball.”

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