Chapter 35

Ford

Roundhouse kick right to the face if this goes south

Why would you assume it's going to go south? And why would it be my fault?

Nate

Because Summer would never fuck things up with you.

Liam

Roundhouse kick to the face and then a good old fashioned WWE smackdown diving knee drop.

What the hell is that?

Liam

I'll attack you when you're least expecting it and take you to the ground.

Nate

All of this during the off season of course.

Okay, enough.

I grab my charger from the nightstand to plug my phone in and end this conversation. Summer told Ford and Abby about our relationship status and since then I've received an influx of messages from not just the guys, but the girls as well. All warning me not to screw anything up.

Last night, Summer stopped over briefly to drop off some things for CeCe. My mom insisted she stay for dinner since she conveniently made so much food. It's been nice having my mom around lately, but I know she's also itching to get back to her retired life of travel and relaxation in a couple days. She leaves the day after Christmas and I know CeCe will be sad to see her leave, but she'll be excited to have more time with Summer again.

When she asked if she could stop by to drop off something she bought for CeCe, I assumed it would be a coloring book or a new set of crayons, something simple that they always use together, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Summer rolled an entire cart of goodies in behind her. Some coloring books and crayons, sure. But there were new stuffed animals, a few books for her, craft supplies for painting and drawing, and then a bracelet making kit. The look on my face when she stepped through the doors probably alluded to my absolute shock, but Summer carried on like it was nothing.

"Can you believe Santa dropped all of this off at my house early?" she said to CeCe as she kept pulling things out of the cart.

I know she'll be with her parents for Christmas this year. I also know she feels indifferent about that. Her parents have always been very nice and generous people the handful of times I've actually met them. They were honestly really fucking absent most of Summer's life, even though Summer seems to have actually preferred it that way. I don't think there's any bad blood between them, but she made it sound like a chore to be going home for the holiday instead of staying around town like she has in recent years.

With our game today, I feel like I definitely should have done more rehab on my knees than I have all week, but I've been busier than ever as of late. I haven't had much of a personal life in years, resulting in early bedtimes, little plans aside from dad life or football, and certainly no company. I've enjoyed the last few weeks more than I think I even want to admit. Summer still even gives me a hard time about my calendar that dings with meetings and appointments.

The sky's the brightest shade of blue when I step out of my truck and begin walking into the stadium today. It reminds me of the color of Summer's eyes and picturing her eyes makes me picture her face, and then her body and her on her knees for me… all thoughts that shouldn't be in my mind as I'm about to prepare for a football game.

"He's here!" I hear as I'm walking into the locker room.

Nate smiles as I approach him and I notice the new hair right away.

"Got tired of having to shampoo and condition the hair?"

"Luke grabbed a chunk of it after he got ahold of the peanut butter jar. Needless to say, I couldn't stand the smell so I'm back to short hair."

Laughing, I pull my boots from my feet and take a seat on the chair in front of my locker just as Liam comes up beside me.

"There you are, we thought maybe all of our threats had you scared." He smirks.

"Your empty threats," I correct.

"Fuck if they are. I will physically hurt you." Ford comes up to us, holding a cup of coffee.

I give him two thumbs up just as Coach Aarons walks into the locker room, bringing everyone's attention to him.

"Morning, gentlemen," he begins. "Big day. Let's focus on this game, stay tough and ready. Depending on how things are shaping up around the league and within our own game, we'll see if we keep starters in or rotate you guys out. I don't want any fucking around today; no one slacks off. Just because we're in the playoffs already doesn't mean we hold back. No stupid fucking injuries. Keep the penalties to a minimum. This is a team of champions—you need to play like it. Go do your job."

"Who shit in his cheerios this morning?" Liam mumbles when Coach Aarons walks out. "All the f-bombs. The black windbreaker instead of red. Who's that man and where is our even-tempered guy?"

"That guy abandoned ship when we decided to lose fucking four games in a row earlier in the season," Nate scoffs, bringing his shirt off over his head to get ready.

Liam isn't wrong, though. Coach has become a lot tougher recently and takes most of his hardest shots at Liam and the offense, in particular.

I direct my attention back to my locker, pull out my uniform and suit up for today's game.

"It's a hot one today," one of the assistant coaches' remarks as we stand on the sidelines. The first quarter is almost over and the score is sitting with a sad goose egg on either side.

"Hear you got a girlfriend." One of my teammates standing beside me nudges my shoulder.

"Yeah? Where'd you hear that?"

I watch as the center snaps the ball to Liam and he gets it out of his hands within a second, sending the ball soaring down the field where one of our wide receivers is sprinting for his life, fighting off a cornerback trying to make the catch. He misses the ball, but a yellow penalty flag is on the field and I see Liam clapping as he stares up at the jumbotron.

"MVP." He nods out to Liam and all I can do is shake my head. Liam's a gossiper if I've ever fucking met one.

" Holding, defense number thirty-six. Automatic first down. "

Our sideline claps at the referee's call, which brings our offense down the field significantly.

"If he didn't hold him, he would've caught it. Probably saved a touchdown there," my teammate comments, and I nod. He's probably right. Our wide receivers are fast and tall, not usual for them to miss a catch unless someone interferes.

After the penalty and a couple more downs, Liam is able to run it in himself for a touchdown. The crowd erupts, sending chills up my spine and I look up into the second level suites, knowing my daughter and Summer are somewhere up there looking on.

Halftime goes by quickly—as it usually does. A quick breather, bathroom break, drink of water and a few words from the coach and we're back on the field. The sun is sweltering as the day is progressing. I'd still choose an outdoor field to indoor, but fuck, we are getting our asses handed to us in this heat. Even in December, it's still a fucking nightmare.

Coach Aarons has kept the starters in so far. We've been hoping to bump our playoff seed number up with a win today and a couple of losses by other teams. The teams we've needed to lose, have done it. So, the fate of where we stand now in the playoff picture is left completely in our hands. Where it should be. Our games and our standings should always come down to us. Right now, we're hanging on, but field goals aren't going to cut it the rest of the game when Tennessee is only ten points behind us and has a solid running game.

The fourth quarter begins and it's evident that everyone on the field, on both sides, is gassed. Aside from the heat, it's been a physical game. We're in the playoffs no matter if we win or lose, it just affects where we sit. But Tennessee has to win to even make the playoffs in their conference. If they lose, they're done. And knowing what it feels like to be in that position, they aren't going down without a balls-to-the-wall fight.

As the defensive play caller, I pay attention to how the offense is lining up. I watch as their tight end sits back toward the quarterback. It looks like he's going to be a blocker for someone else to carry the ball, but instincts tell me it's a fake and he'll run up the middle unblocked to wait for the ball to be thrown his way. We've got a four man rush up front, which should cover their linemen, but leaves that tight end to break loose if that's their play.

My eyes scan the quarterback as he sets up under the center. He pauses before quickly dropping back into a shotgun formation and the center lunges the ball back to him once he calls the play into motion.

Three receivers fan out wide, but our corner and safeties are all over them. Their quarterback does some fancy footwork, darting to his left further away from me. I hold off for a few seconds, anticipating he's going to throw the ball immediately, but since he doesn't my next step is to sack him. At first, it feels like a pointless feat. He's quicker than me, but I just need to get close. I'm bigger than him, and I can take him down if I can just get closer.

The moment I'm within arm's reach, he fires the ball from his hands and I swerve from tackling him to avoid a costly team penalty, but it doesn't take me completely out of harm's way. One of their linemen breaks free and in an attempt to block me from hitting his quarterback, he takes me to the ground. His hit felt legal. On the jumbotron watching it back, it looked legal. But the way my knee bent, it felt like every piece of ligament in my leg was tearing at the same time.

"Fuck!" I yell out from the field as the medical staff come to my aid. I try to stand up and walk it off, but they tell me to stay seated for the moment while they do a quick assessment.

"Do we need a cart?" one of the staff asks and before anyone can answer, I interrupt.

"No. I can walk off. Let me up," I say, shrugging one of the staff members off me.

They help me to my feet and I'm able to limp off with some assistance. Coach Aarons makes eye contact with me when I get to the sidelines, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

"We'll need x-rays, come on." The team doctor throws my arm around his shoulder as he helps me off the sidelines and into the locker room.

A million things run through my mind. I'm praying CeCe was asleep or occupied or something during that play. She's never seen me get hurt and I'm not sure how she'd react. Playoffs start soon and having to sit out would be such a blow to our team and to my whole fucking mood.

I can hear the doctor and some of the medical staff talking as they do the x-ray. I've known most of these people long enough to pick up on when things don't look so hot.

"Just tell me," I grunt out, pulling my gloves off my hands.

"It's a sprain, Chase. I'm sorry."

My fist slams the table I'm lying on. Knee injuries can be hard to come back from and all that's running through my mind is that I'm not ready to be done with football. I'm not ready to go out like this.

"We'll ice it now. You'll need to take it easy, rest. You're in good shape, Chase. I don't see this being anything detrimental, just rehab it the right way. We'll make sure you get in with the physical therapist, do some recovery movement on it soon."

"Playoffs are out of the question, though." It's not me asking them, it's my need to say it out loud. To tell myself that my season right now has come to an end.

"Playoffs are out of the question," the doctor confirms.