Page 23 of Let You Love Me

“Okay, then. Nichols,” Coach snaps, “you better get started. We don’t have all day and practice starts when you finish. The longer you take, the longer practice goes on.”

Fucking fantastic.

I make a beeline for one of the tires, mentally preparing myself to push to my limit when Tommy calls out, “You got this, Nichols!”

“Use your legs,” someone else shouts. “It’s all in the legs and hips, baby. Come on.”

I stretch my neck from side to side, then brace my hands on the first tire and begin.

The first couple of flips suck. The tire is heavy as shit, and I already feel the burn in my muscles, but the further I go, I begin to warm up and it gets a little easier.

I’m already breathing heavily by the time I get the first one across and head for the second.

By the third, it’s no longer easy.

By the fourth, every muscle in my body is screaming like a fucking banshee.

About halfway down the field, my legs cramp. My forehead is slick with sweat as the sun beats down on me. My biceps burn, and I’m not sure I can make it.

I pause, leaning against the tire as I take a deep breath and reach deep within, calling on all my mental fortitude, reaching for anything and everything I’ve got to get me across the finish line. My anger at Lockhart. Knox’s betrayal. A set of brilliant blue eyes and striking auburn hair.

Lane, the chick from the park, hasn’t called or texted me back, despite sending her several texts of my own, and as fucking pathetic as it is, I imagine her waiting for me in the end zone. My own personal prize.

All I have to do is get there, and she’s mine.

I grunt as I squat, using my legs to do the heavy lifting as I flip the tire over again and again and again while I growl, gasp, and curse. On final squat, I flip it once more across the goal line and collapse against it.

The acrid scent of rubber burns my nose as I catch my breath.

Applause erupts around me, followed by a hand clapping me on the back. “Damn, bro. Didn’t know if you had it in you.”

Tommy.

I lift my head, leaving behind a puddle of sweat on the black rubber.

He reaches out and clasps my hand in his, pulling me upright. “Come on, man.”

I straighten and begin to walk.

My limbs feel like fucking Jell-O.

I place my hands on my hips while I try to slow the galloping in my chest, perfectly in tune with my teammates’ applause.

Once I’m back on the sidelines, I bend, bracing my hands on my thighs for a moment while several of my teammates slap me on the back.

“Nichols is abeast!” Greene hoots.

In front of me Coach stares, offering me a curt nod before his eyes shift, flickering over each of us with the weight of authority while we wait for instruction.

“All right, listen up, boys.” Coach’s sharp tone cuts through the ambient noise, and the voices around me die. “Now that we’ve taken care of that nonsense, I’ve got an announcement to make and I need your full attention.”

A ripple of curiosity spreads across the line. I exchange a glance with Tommy and wonder why the hell I’m so nervous.

“Starting this week, my daughter will be joining us as a student manager for the team,” he announces.

The fist in my stomach disappears.

Thank fuck this isn’t about me.

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