Page 117 of The Game Plan

Great. My rage is a bonus. It’s not like I haven’t realized this as well. But I don’t like it. Maybe Coach knows that too,because he leans forward, bracing his hands on the desk.

“This media circus will die down soon enough. In the meantime, take this as the opportunity it is. Channel that rage, Dex.”His expression goes brutal and dead serious. “But keep it on the fucking field.”

“Sure thing, Coach.” What else can I say?

I’m no less angry once I’m on the field and playing. Not by a long fucking shot. Oh, but I channel that rage, pushing it throughmy lungs until they burn, forcing it into my muscles until they twitch with the need to punish. I use it to break apart thedefense, and I soak it up when the crowd roars its approval.

It feels good. All of it so fucking good—an adrenaline rush, the likes of which I’ve only come close to while thrusting intoFi.

I love football. Always have. Lived and breathed it. But it’s never been like this.

This rage, the way it suddenly flows through me without hindrance, is something different. Something inside has finally brokenfree. No more holding back. No more fear.

My logical brain can’t switch off entirely. Because I still know it’s Fi’s pain that has set this part of me free. How fuckedup is that?

At the line, the defense scrambles around, and I sense a zone blitz coming. You can see it, if you pay attention, not just in the way the defense positions themselves, but in their eyes, the tension around their mouths.

I know they think Finn is too inexperienced to deal with them. They’re wrong.

I signal the play, and my guys adjust quickly. I get the snap off and we’re countering with an offensive blitz before thedefense knows what’s happening.

It’s a beautiful play, and it clearly pisses them off. Norris, a nose tackle, and the fuck-nugget who outed me to the tabloids,whistles long and low. “Feeling good, Dexter? Yeah, I would too if my girl had them perky titties.”

Red fogs my vision.

“The fuck?” I lunge forward, only to bump into Rolondo, who braces a palm against my gut.

His eyes are dead serious. “Let it the fuck go, man. He’s only trying to get to you.”

From behind him, I hear a laugh. “Sucking on those titties...”

My teeth gnash. My guys are surrounding me.

“Save it for the play,” Ryder says at my side. “We will fuck them up.”

Someone gives me an encouraging slap to the helmet. I move back to the huddle, trying to concentrate. Finn gives me a quicklook, but he’s calling the next play.

Breathe. Focus. Get it together.

I try. I really do. But I miss a beat, and when I snap the ball, a defensive end blows by me and sacks Finn.

“Shit.”

Norris is at my elbow again, snickering. “Fiona Mackenzie, eh? Sweet little honey, D. Looks like she’s a natural blonde—”

I don’t see anything but a haze and the whites of Norris’s eyes as I grab hold of his helmet and rip it from his head. Mineis off too. Not sure how. Don’t care. My fist connects with his face, smashing into it so hard I feel it in my spine.

Whistles blow. Yellow flags fly.

Guys pile on top of us. Mine. His. Blows hit my head, back. I don’t feel them. I’m pounding Norris, who is stuck beneath me.

And then I’m thrown on my back with a jarring thud. It clears my head enough for me to pop up. A ref struggles to step intomy path. I duck around him as other guys scuffle.

“Cool it!” shouts a ref.

Finn is at my arm, pulling me back. “Easy, Dex.”

But then Norris is coming at me, blood pouring down his nose and in his teeth. “That’s why your girl took the money, cuz you’rea fucking pussy!”

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