Page 31 of Love at Second Down

And if Damon falls apart out there today, I’m not sure I’ll survive watching it happen, knowing I might’ve had something to do with it.

“Get rid of it. Get rid of it,” I chant under my breath as I watch Damon dance behind the offensive line, ball cocked, ready to find its target. “He’s taking too long,” I murmur as my heart rams in my chest, watching with bated breath as he searches for an opening.

“What’s he doing?” Brynn shouts just as a defender breaks through the line, and I know he’s in trouble.

Damon tucks the ball and veers to the right, readying to pass it off, but it’s too late. Another defender rockets toward him, flying through the air, his arms wrapping below his knees at the same time another comes from behind.

Damon’s body slams on the ground with bone-rattling force, and the ball slips from his hands.

I wince as the women around me groan in unison. With less than a minute left in this quarter, the Griffins are down byfourteen, and if the second half is anything like the first, we’re screwed.

Damon’s performance hasn’t been good. He’s missed passes, the trajectory of his throws has been off, and as a result, the defense has been relentlessly pressuring him.

My heart twists with every mistake, taking every blunder personally. He’s one of the best quarterbacks in the league, and it’s my fault he’s in his head and not playing his best.

I focus back on the television screen with my heart in my throat as Damon rolls onto his side, his chest heaving in time with his breath. The medics sprint toward him, but he waves them off. Sitting up with one arm wrapped around his side, he shakes his head and barks something at them that the camera doesn’t catch.

When he rises on shaky legs a moment later, I can’t help but notice the look of despair in his eyes, and I pray he hasn’t given up yet as he makes his way back into formation.

Sucking in a breath, I lean forward in my chair, hands steepled out in front of me. “Come on, Damon,” I whisper under my breath. “Come on.”

I watch as he takes the snap and drops back, eyes scanning the field.

My pulse quickens as I see Chris break through the defenders, running deep toward the end zone as Damon steps up, arm cocked at the same time a fullback breaks through the line, headed straight for him.

Shit.

Damon moves his feet and releases the ball, but it’s too early, too rushed, and the trajectory is off.

Chris must see it too, because his arms pump, body straining to run faster, to do the impossible as the ball rockets toward the sidelines.

He reaches, stretching as he launches into the air to try and snag the ball, but it’s an impossible catch. It spirals wide, arching a foot to his right into the hands of the opposition.

Remnants of the take-out pizza litter the coffee table, along with half a dozen half-empty seltzers, bags of chips, and cupcake wrappers. Everyone’s too preoccupied with the game to do anything but watch, enraptured as the Griffins make their comeback.

Only three minutes remain on the clock in the final quarter?one hundred eighty seconds determine whether AAU will make it to the final championship game.

After halftime, Damon jogged back onto the field with a fire in his eyes I hadn’t seen yet. It only took one possession—one snap—for everything to shift. In an instant, the boy I’d watched play since he was thirteen, the one who made magic out of broken plays and pressure, was back. Fierce. Focused. Unstoppable.

Now, we’re one touchdown away from a tied game. Damon returns from the huddle and gets into position, barking out orders to his teammates with the authority and determination of a drill sergeant.

The air seems to crackle with intensity as my gaze fixes on him and the ball snaps. My heart hammers in my chest as he takes his time, dancing behind the offensive line. He’s light on his feet as he evades a defender and pivots to his left before releasing the ball, launching it perfectly toward the end zone.

I barely register the cheer that erupts from the girls around me because all I can hear is my sharp intake of breath when the ball sails into Jace’s hands and he spins into the end zone.

Touchdown!

The room erupts. The girls leap to their feet, squealing with joy, and before I can stop myself, I’m right there with them—heart pounding, hands flying, caught in a blur of high-fives, laughter, and breathless shouts. The energy is electric, contagious, and for a moment, nothing else matters but this win.

“Now, we just need to hold ’em and get one more!” Brynn shouts, holding up a finger.

“That’s right, baby!” I yell, turning back to the screen, heart pumping wildly as they pan to a close-up of Damon jogging off the field with a cocky grin that I feeleverywhere.

After our defense stops Florida in their tracks, we receive the ball again, and Damon battles to take it down the field. With only thirty seconds to go, on the third down, they opt to kick a field goal.

West jogs onto the field, shakes out his shoulders, and takes a quick warm-up kick. Then the snap comes. In one fluid motion, he plants his foot and sends the ball arcing high into the air—clean, effortless, perfect. It sails through the uprights with laser precision, clinching the win.

“We’re going to the National Championship final!” Charlotte yells as she and Brynn perform a chest bump and the rest of us laugh.

---