Page 76 of Flag On The Play
Nova standing in my penthouse, voice shaking with hurt and fury.
Nova holding her phone out with that goddamn article.
Nova’s fucking beautiful eyes filled with tears.
My stomach twists. I should’ve said more. I should have been furious. I should’ve fought for her harder than I did.
The ball snaps.
I drop back.
My first read is covered. The second one is tangled up.
I blink too late and BAM.
I hit the turf like a sack of bricks, the breath knocked clean from my lungs.
Another sack. The third this game. Maybe the fourth.
I’m not even sure anymore.
My offensive line helps me up, and I brush them off with a grunt, not because I’m mad at them, but because I’m mad at myself. I should’ve fixed this before getting on a plane.
I tried calling her. Twenty times.
I waited outside her place like a lovesick idiot until Roxy showed up and told me she “wasn’t ready.” Whatever the hell that means.
And now I’m here. Playing like shit and letting everyone down.
They punt. Again.
I slump on the bench, helmet off, sweat dripping from my temple, jaw locked tight. The stadium lights blur in my vision.
Nova’s voice echoes in my head.
“That’s your solution? I give up my job, my independence, and you hide away the whore in your penthouse?”
I never meant to make her feel that way.
I’m not ashamed of her. Not even close.
I just didn’t know how to protect her from the ugliness that comes with my life. And clearly, I failed.
When we finally make it to the fourth quarter, the team is barely holding on. Coach is barking plays, shouting at everyone to wake the hell up, and I know they’re all looking at me.
This team rises and falls with me.
I scrub a hand over my face and line up again.
Final seconds. Ball on the thirty-five.
We’re down by five.
We need a miracle.
I call the play with a voice that doesn’t feel like my own. The snap comes. The pocket holds.
I step up, find Jace sprinting across the middle, and let it rip.
