Page 7 of Ready to Snap
“Aw, are you jealous?” she teases, and I ball my fist at my side. Yes, of course I’m fucking jealous—but not for the reason she thinks. “Maybe you should have been a little more insistent with your mother that I didn’t need to be set up with your brother.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
Elle lets out a full laugh, and my shoulders finally relax. “Yes, I’m fucking with you. Being that he’s your brother, it could be seen as a conflict of interest, so I politely declined a second time when she offered. I matched with someone on the app. I’m swamped all week, so I double-booked tonight.”
I stifle a groan but I can’t help asking, “What if things go well with the first date?”
“Then I’ll obviously cancel on the second guy,” she huffs, and I sense the eye-roll from here.Oh how I would give her an entirely different reason for her eyes to roll back…“Why are you all of a sudden so interested in my love life?”
“It doesn’t matter. The interview schedule looks great. I’ll see you later.”
I don’t care how guilty I look, I hang up and toss my phone onto my bed. This is a mistake; I should cancel our date. Opening the app, I click the scheduling tab, and my thumb hovers over the cancellation button. I can’t do it. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. My imagination gets the best of me, and I conjure an image of her laughing with some tech bro or finance douche.
Fuck. That.
I exit the app. If I have any say in it, she’ll be cancelling her eight-thirty… and all other dates she schedules with anyone but me.
CHAPTER 3
WILL
Twelve twenty left in the fourth quarter. False start, and we’re now third and twenty-three. Our new running back, Norton, is fast as fuck, but they haven’t let him move more than four or five yards all game. We’re only down by a field goal. We have time.
It’s risky, but fuck it.
Wallace snaps, and I quickly pass to Norton. There’s an opening, and he runs it up the middle. Vegas doesn’t expect him to slither through the collision of men three times his size. Unable to see over the sea of chaos, I check the jumbotron. He’s tackled inches from glory. It would’ve been his first touchdown of his professional career. I let out a defeated sigh, determined to give him a small win today.
“I’m coming for you, Darling,” someone growls from my right. He jogs away, and I warn Matthews and Wallace about the fucker. An occasional sack is one thing, but this douche has been out for blood since I stepped onto the field. He nearly broke the QB’s ankle in his last game, and I won’t risk it.
First and goal, and Boyd might be able to slip past them on the left.Snap. I hate being this close to the end zone—I’m feeling claustrophobic. I’m tempted to run it in myself, but give Norton another shot. He’s shoved back by three beasts, and we lose a few yards.
I let the clock run down for a delay of game—I need space to breathe. Taking the penalty, my options are still limited. Worst case, we’ll tie it up.
Snap.
Boyd and Norton could manage it, but Matthews is ready. As I’m about to pass to him, Norton slinks off to the right. Time slows to a crawl as the ball sails through the air to him. Norton catches it with ease, and the crowd roars as “Touchdown, New York!” pierces through the applause.
I’m about to run over to congratulate him when the wind is knocked out of me. I’m flattened to the ground like a damn pancake by a man twice my size. “Told you I was coming for you.”
Through the boos of the fans, I can still make out the whistles blowing. In an instant, I’m surrounded by trainers and medical staff. After the refs review the scoring play, one announces, “Personal foul, unnecessary roughness, defense number ninety-nine. The receiver scored prior to the foul; the result of the play is a touchdown. Fifteen-yard penalty will be added after change of possession.”
Our kicker scores the extra point, and the refs tack on the penalty after Vegas has the ball. He has the foot to do some serious damage, and with the added yards, they’re starting inches from the end zone. If we can hold ‘em, it’ll guarantee a win. Coach insists on pulling me from the game, but I refuse to leave the field—my team needs me here. A few doctors and therapists strap an ice pack to my shoulder while I watch ourdefense hold Vegas for two downs. On the third down, Connors makes a beeline for their quarterback and sacks him before he can get rid of the ball. A roar of cheers fills the dome, and we’re all on our feet.
Karma is a bitch.
Vegas is out of timeouts, and our second-string QB, Kingston, eats the clock as he moves down the field. I wish it was me out there, but we can’t risk it. One wrong move could end my career. I’m just grateful it’s my left shoulder throbbing, not my right.
With the two-minute warning rapidly approaching, he gets cocky and throws down the field to Matthews, who fumbles. It’s recovered by Vegas. Their defensive back runs like hell for forty yards, and our only hope is to hold them to a field goal.
Thankfully, our defense pushes them back a few yards at a time—now fourth and twenty-two and not within field goal range. The ball is snapped, and he’s panicking. No one is open, and the clock is ticking. He throws it away. They can’t come back from this unless my rookie QB fucks it up. I grip his shoulder before he jogs onto the field, and we share a look of understanding. He wants to shine—today isn’t the day. He’s a good boy, running down the clock and helping us secure the win.
As I make my way onto the field to congratulate him, I’m mobbed by a swarm of reporters. I don’t have a second to respond as Elle ushers me to the tunnel.
“Donotanswer any questions,” she warns low enough only I can hear. “As far as anyone is concerned, you’re in perfect health and will be starting next week. You’ll only have to deal with the post-game press. I’ll schedule Kingston for tonight’s interviews.”
I want to fight her on this, but there’s no point—she’s as stubborn as I am and will have me swapped out for Kingston within the hour. Outside the medical staff’s door, she pauses.
“Aren’t you going to come in and brief me while they’re checking me out?”
