Page 32 of Remember Me

“Let's eat, baby,” Dean Reeves, our defensive end, muttered beside me, bouncing lightly on his feet, the words barely audible through his mouth guard.

I smirked, not taking my eyes off the line, watching Drew's hands as he barked out the cadence. “Hope you brought your bib.”

Dean let out a low chuckle, his fingers twitching against the turf, ready to explode. I could feel his energy from two feet away—the man was a coiled spring wrapped in muscle.

Across from me, the offensive lineman was already sweating, a dark patch spreading across his chest. His eyes darted left, then right, shifting his weight like he could feel what was coming. Like he knew exactly who he was trying to block.

Smart man.

The center snapped the ball, the motion triggering something primal in my body.

I exploded off the line, the world narrowing to tunnel vision.

The guy in front of me, three hundred pounds of muscle and bad intentions, went low, trying to plant his feet and keeping me from getting leverage. His technique was solid. Too bad for him I'd been built for this moment since the first day I walked onto the field.

I hit him hard, my gloved hands driving into his chest plate. There's a sweet spot, right between the numbers, where you can feel a man's will start to break. I found it, shoving forward, twisting my hips just enough to throw him off balance. His feet skidded against the turf, leaving twin black streaks as I cut inside. My muscles burned with the perfect pain of purpose as I locked onto Drew, who was scanning downfield, looking for an open receiver.

Drew saw me coming a beat too late.

His eyes flicked up, meeting mine through our facemasks. His hands tightened around the ball, and for a split second, I saw something like resignation cross his features.

He had nowhere to go. No escape route. No open receiver to bail him out.

I closed the space in three long strides, planting my shoulder, driving forward with every ounce of momentum I'd built. The collision was beautiful in its simplicity, my body becoming a weapon of pure physics.

I hit him.

A perfect sack.

We went down hard, my arms wrapped around his waist as his back slammed into the ground with a thud I felt through my chest. The football compressed between us, his grip somehow maintaining possession despite the impact.

The stadium exploded, the roar washing over us like a physical wave.

I lingered there for a moment, one knee pressing against the turf, grinning down at his face as he blinked up at me. Sacking a quarterback is the closest thing to legal assault in professional sports, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it.

“Damn, Walker,” Drew muttered, grimacing. “You been eating your protein, huh?”

I let out a short laugh, the sound muffled by my mouth guard. “You act like I haven't been sacking your ass for years.”

He huffed, a half-smile pulling at his lips despite the hit he'd just taken. “I was hoping you'd get tired of it.”

“Never.” I patted his chest before pushing off him, standing to my full height, letting the moment sink in. First defensive play of the second quarter, and I'd put their star quarterback on his back. Message sent.

Drew eyed my outstretched hand for a second before shaking his head. “Nah, I'm good. Gonna lay here a sec. Feels nice.”

I grinned, stepping back as he finally rolled to his feet with the grace of a man who'd been knocked down plenty of times before. He brushed grass from his jersey, then leaned in closer so only I could hear.

“How're the kids? Reign still putting up with your ugly ass?”

Even in the middle of the Super Bowl, Drew would ask about my family. This was why I couldn't completely hate him, even when I was trying to break him in half.

“Five kids and I still find time to sack you,” I shot back with a smirk.

Drew clutched his chest in mock offense. “Low blow, Walker. I was just warming up.”

“Really? Because that throwing motion looked a little slow. Age catching up to you, McCallister?”

He laughed, genuine and quick before his game face returned. “This conversation isn't over, but I've got a touchdown to score.”

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