Page 96 of Changing Rules

I wheel around, my hands balled into fists. I’m ready to kill him right here, in the middle of the stadium, in the middle of a fucking game.

“Xander, he’s not worth it.” Drew puts his hand on my shoulder.

Breaths coming fast again, I glare at Miller, but I don’t move. Somehow, I find my restraint and turn away from him.

“What the fuck was that?” Drew asks in a low voice. “You swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head, but the second she’s back, you lose your cool? The fuck are you doing?”

“He was riling me up.”

“Have you suddenly decided to end your career? Because kicking your teammate’s ass in the middle of a packed stadium would definitely kickstart that.”

“No.” I clench my jaw. “I love football. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Then fucking prove it,” Drew snaps, striding away.

Marco sidles up to me, his movements easy, as if he missed the exchange. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” With a pat to my shoulder, he heads back onto the field.

Only forty seconds left, Xander.Get your shit together.

As I make my way to my position, I force all the disturbing thoughts down.

Once they’re packed away, the world becomes vivid again. The shouts, the chanting from the stands, Coach’s calls.

We just need to run out the clock. That’s the plan. But what if we can score?

Adrenaline surges through me. Years of practice have taught me to look for even the smallest of opportunities. Time and time again, this game has proven that nothing is impossible.

Drew and I exchange glances, and a second later, I’m tucking the ball into my side.

Sink or swim, Walker.

Around me, my offensive line does what they do best, protecting me. Pads clash and footsteps thunder. I duck the Wolverines’ defensive tackle, then cut to the left. As if the moment were choreographed, a path to the end zone opens, but Garcia is being guarded by the opposing safety.

Fuck.

A defender barrels toward me, but I duck, barely avoiding the tackle. Garcia is still covered, but Miller has broken free.

The moron is right where I need him to be: in the end zone. I hate him to the core, but I won’t pass up an opportunity to score. Muscles tense and heart hammering, I send the ball spiraling. The second Miller pulls it into his chest, I suck in a breath.

It’s over. 24–10. We fucking won!

“Walker!” Marco jumps onto my back, yelling in my ear.

The chaos and the noise threaten to make my head explode, but I grin nonetheless.

“We owned that!”

“We sure did.”

Drew darts toward me, bumping his chest into mine, almost knocking me down. I laugh harder and haul him to me for a hug. There’s nothing better than this kind of happiness. It’s immense, like being pulled to the surface seconds before drowning. No other feeling compares.

Except one.

Now that I’ve accomplished this feat, I have one more to face. I need to find her, and I hope like hell she’ll hear me out.

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