Page 69 of Time Out

Shit. The faith he had in me. I hadn’t broken through a hole in the line all game and now with the game actually ticking down, only a few more plays up our sleeve… this could work. They wouldn’t be expecting me to get the ball, not with how well they’d shut me down. At worst, I get us a few yards and we regroup.

“Forty-two draw,” I repeated with a nod.

“Let’s get it, men. I can already smell the parade the city will have for us!”

A few offensive linemen grunted out their agreement and we released from the huddle to our spots. A draw, where Cole would fake a pass to JJ, or Jefferson Jameson who’d already scored a touchdown. He’d be double covered for sure, loosening up the defense in the backfield if I could break through, and the defense would be running to block the ball and slap it out of Cole’s hands.

Which meant I had to tuck and run, maybe juke one out, and I’d have this.

I had this.

Cole called the play, dropped back, and like every time a play started, it moved in slow motion for me, tunnel vision where the only thing I had my eye on was the ball, my speed, and any obstacle in my way.

As soon as my fingers touched the cool leather of the ball, I was off. We’d moved quick, our offense blocking like they’d done all game and there. The hole. A slight squeeze.

I was shoved to the right, my left foot slipping but I regained control, pummeled and shoved my way through the beams that were some of the largest arms I’d ever seen in my life but my force was more powerful than their strength and I slipped through. The field wide open, the defense read our play wrong meant the two backs who were supposed to double team JJ were rushing me, men fast on their feet, but no doubt I was faster and I turned, missing one, kept the left foot in play as I reached the sideline and I was at the thirty. The twenty-five. The twenty, the fifteen. The crowd was probably on their feet, losing their minds, but all I saw was that thick white line moving closer with every split second and my own racing heart.

I had this. A touchdown… until a shadow took to my side and the hell? I couldn’t glance, but my jersey was tugged, killing my momentum. I threw my left arm back, shook him off. The last defender tripped over my feet and I did the same, tripping. Slipping.

And sliding right over the goal line.

“Touchdown!” I screamed from where I’d belly flopped my way into the end zone.

Not pretty.

But I scored.

A massive weight slammed into my back. “You did it, you little fucking shit! Thought for sure you were down at the ten.”

I rolled to my side as Yeets continued to scream at me and shoved him off, hopping to my feet.

“Hell yeah I did!” Arms were thrown around me. Dawson slapped my back and I threw my arm in the air still holding the ball while the entire stadium roared with approval, their happiness like they’d been physically involved.

And in that moment, I turned the corner.

Found her.

Maggie, sitting a few rows up, on her feet, face shining and teeth beaming with her large smile as she clapped and screamed with everyone else. Next to her, Cole’s son, Jasper was jumping up and down, massive noise-canceling headphones on his ears, but it was Maggie who grabbed my attention and held it.

I pointed the ball in her direction before flicking it toward the ref and then pointed my index finger back at her with a smile I hoped she could see behind my face mask.

I did it.

“One more play. Let’s tie this game up and close it down.”

Dawson caught an easy shovel pass into the end zone as we went for two and then we were on the sidelines, lining up to watch the kickoff.

Still more than thirty seconds to go, enough time to get off a few plays. This game was far from over. Our place kicker, Jassen Moore, lined up for the onside kick.

Cole stood on one side of me. Dawson, the other. The entire offense held their breath while the kick went off. Raleigh’s special teams fell on it, but … no fucking way!

“Holy shit!” Cole grabbed my arm and jumped.

The guy had fumbled. Touched the ball so it was live and there was a massive dog pile for it. The ball slipped out, and our team landed on it.

“Yes! Holy crap! They’ve done it!”

“Game is ours!”

---