Chapter 1

1

Rush

I jog off the football field toward the locker room.

“That arm looks good, Radcliffe.”

Tommy Winters has been the quarterback’s coach for the Tennessee University Rebels football program for over ten years. The man knows his game.

I stop along the sidelines. “Thanks.”

“You following your new workout with Jackson?”

I rest my helmet on my leg. “Yeah.” I nod. “I started Monday. It’s good.”

Coach Winters punches my bicep. “Keep up the workouts. Oh, Coach wants you in his office after you shower.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”

“Relax. You’re not in trouble.” Winters tosses a football to our equipment manager. “Hit the shower.”

What is this about? Why does

I shuffle to the locker room, my feet heavy and barely notice the ruckus as I plop down on the bench in front of my locker.

The tension builds in my neck and my stomach clenches at the thought of my father getting involved once again.

My father, James “Kip” Radcliffe, he’s a household name around Tennessee University. One of the biggest names to ever Anna the football field and I’m expected to hold up the family name.

“Nice throwing out there today.” Miles “Oh-Man” O’Leary, one of the top running backs in college ball and also one of my housemates, chin juts my way. What he doesn’t have in physical stature, he makes up for with confidence and an ego. The “Oh-Man” barely reaches five-eleven in height and looks unintimidating next to the bigger players, but the man is made of solid steel— muscular, wiry, and can squeeze through the big players. Not only that, once he’s loose, he can run fast. Lightning fast.

“Yeah, and you actually caught it.” I love razzing this guy. My comment brings a moan from my teammates and a wet towel gets tossed in my direction.

As I get dressed, my mind wanders to what this meeting could possibly be about. I take my time. I’m in no hurry to hear that my father has contacted the coaching staff on my behalf once again.

Oliver Benjamin, one of our defensive players, parks himself on the bench and loads up his duffle bag. Oliver, known as Benji, towers over my six-foot frame and is basically as intimidating as hell. He’s huge. I swear the guy can melt a girl’s heart with just a look. He eats up all the attention he gets from the female population.

“Nice work out there today.” Benji zips the bag.

Kade Compton plops down on the bench. “Fuck, I really sucked out there today.” He rips off his jersey and tosses it into his locker. “I should’ve had that last pass. Slipped right through my fingers.”

Kade’s our most easy-going running back and known as “wings” for his ability to fly through opposing defensive players. He may be quiet and laid back, but the kid is tougher than nails and darts down the field like a blue streak. But he’s also hard on himself, something I understand.

Kade slams his locker shut with a lot more power than necessary. Benji shoots me a look and I shrug.

“What’s up, wingman?” Benji gives Kade a nudge.

“Told you. I should’ve had that last pass. Easy. Dropped it.”

“No worries.” Benji pats our friend on the back. “Your hands are too smooth.”

The players within earshot roar with laughter and even Kade grins slightly.

“All that extra time in the shower—” Benji has a shit-eating grin on his face.

Miles ties his shoes, his head coming up. “What do you do in that shower for so long? You’re not any prettier when you come out, you know.”

“Everything was fine until Wings showed up in town. Now there’s been a water shortage from his long showers.” Benji laughs and holds a stick of deodorant to his mouth like a microphone. “Breaking news. Marilyn’s mayor is calling for possible water restrictions. News has traveled all the way to the governor of Tennessee who warns citizens the state has never seen anything like this. It’s a drought of massive proportions.”

Kade chuckles. “Shut it, O’Leary.”

This is a constant theme in our locker room. Too much testosterone— especially after a heavy on-field workout. The five of us — my housemates and myself— can be aggressive with each other, but at the end of the day, these players are my brothers. They’d do anything for me. I’d do anything for them. Although we do a lot of ball-busting, we’re truly friends and more importantly we’re teammates.

These guys are the ones who got me through my miserable breakup with Evie. I thought Evie and I were solid until I caught her cheating.

I don’t feel like watching these barbarians start their antics, so I grab my bag and slip out of the locker room unnoticed.

I sling my duffle over my shoulder and head to Coach Johnson’s office. Christopher Johnson, head coach of the Tennessee University Rebels, is a quiet man and I respect the hell out of him. He’s taken some weak players and made them strong. He’s always fair, always tells the truth— a true black-and-white kind of man. No gray zone with this guy.

I tap on the door.

“Enter.”

I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and open the door.

“Oh, Radcliffe. Take a seat,” he says as he points to the chair across from the desk.

He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and tosses it to me. I catch it and he chuckles. “Maybe we oughta put you downfield.”

I smirk. “Funny.”

He takes water for himself and sits behind his desk. He opens a folder and peruses a paper. “Radcliffe, I got a note from Professor Griffith.”

Fuck. Calculus.

“He said your grade is low and although you’ve attended all the study sessions, he feels a tutor would be valuable.”

I groan. “A tutor? Really?”

Let’s just say math isn’t my superpower. Hated math in high school and my feelings about it haven’t changed. Especially Calculus.

“Yes. Really.” Coach Johnson takes a swallow from the water bottle. “And he has it lined up. You’ll report to the library Thursday after practice and meet with Adison.”

I slump in the chair.

“The note says, ‘I have John Radcliffe lined up to meet with one of the tutors. Name is Adison Miller and I know the tutoring will help him immensely. Adison is great at working with students one-on-one and has been known to bring math grades up after only a few sessions. Please have John report to the library on Thursday at 4:30 in Room B-4 to begin the sessions with Adison.’”

Coach hands me a piece of paper with Adison’s name plus the date and time of our first session. Although I appreciate the support from the coaching staff, this paper feels like a brick in my hand. If my father finds out I’m seeing a tutor for math, it’s only going to make things worse for me. My stomach clenches.

“Come on, Rush. I know you like handling things on your own, but I think this guy can really help you out.”

I let out a breath. “Fine. I’ll meet him.”

I don’t care about math. I’m majoring in kinetics. I’m also interested in coaching or possibly physical therapy. But unfortunately, to graduate and have any chance at the pros, math is part of the deal.

My father, the Sr. version, was a record-setting quarterback here at Tennessee University. I’m considered a decent quarterback, but I’m obsessed with filling my father’s shoes, and, like him, moving on to a professional team. My parents expect nothing less. And they’ll get nothing less.

The bass from the music downstairs reverberates through the rafters to my upstairs bedroom at the football house. After pulling on a pair of clean blue jeans and a black T-shirt, I head downstairs. I don’t plan on getting drunk, but I could have a few beers and a little fun.

I bounce down the stairs to find our living room filled with students, making my way through the crowd into the kitchen where Sean is handling the drinks.

“What for you, my man?” Sean grins. “How about you get started with some shots?”

I groan. “Not tonight. I’m going to nurse a beer or two.”

Sean exaggerates a frown. “You used to be the cool guy.”

I shake my head. “I’ve got shit to do tomorrow and can’t afford a damn hangover.”

I step over the keg and although there’s a line of students, a full cup of beer makes its way through the crowd and is handed to me. One of the perks of being the quarterback.

I make my way through the living room, and I wince as Evie steps around her friends and blocks my path to the couch.

Not what I need tonight.

She smiles. Her lips are exaggerated with her red lipstick. Her eyes look glassy, a sure sign of her normal Friday habits. “Hi, Johnny.”

I nod. “Evie.”

She rests her hand on my forearm. “Call me sometime. I think we?—”

She stumbles into me, her bust pushing into my chest. I straighten her.

She giggles. “Uh-oh.” She takes a drink from her cup. “We need to talk. Call me soon.”

I shake my head. The smell of whiskey on her breath about knocks me down. “We don’t have anything to say.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry about everything.” She hiccups. “I wanna talk about working things out with you…getting back together.” She bats her eyelashes. “We’re good together, Johnny. I’ve missed you.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you let that punk put his dick in you.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “I told you that was a misunderstanding.”

A misunderstanding? Seriously?

I push my way past her and make my way through the crowd of students. Still disgusted about my interaction with my past, I slide onto the seat of my favorite comfy chair near the wall. No shots tonight— just gonna chill and get to bed soon.

I’m definitely not closing this party down. I’ll most likely be working on calculus tomorrow. Since I’m going to the tutor next week, I don’t want to look like some slacker who’s behind on homework.

Even though I am.

My teammate Kade approaches. His brown hair is always wild and out of control. He brags that the girls like to run their fingers through it.

“What’s up,” he asks as he plops down on the couch next to me.

“Nothing.” I shrug.

His eyes move across the room to Evie and her group of friends. “What’d she want?”

“She still thinks we’re getting back together.”

Kade shakes his head and studies me. “You’re not considering it, I hope.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“That girl is nothing but trouble.” Kade takes a long pull from his beer.

Evie and her friends stumble out the door onto the patio.

“What’d coach want? You get an ass chewing?” Kade chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

My stomach drops at the thought of my father berating my less-than-stellar performance in math. “Just some football stuff.”

My encounter with Evie disappears from my thoughts as my eyes stop on a dark-haired beauty in the middle of the room.

She’s gorgeous. Long tresses that my hands could get lost in. A tight T-shirt with our football logo, skin-tight blue jeans that show off her shapely ass.

Kade lets out a little moan. “Who’s that Rebel football fan with the nice ass?”

“That’s just what I was thinking, my man.”

I squint to get a look at the other girls in her little circle.

Maybe I know some of them. Nope. I don’t know any of them.

One of the girls in the group must be sharing a funny story as her friends giggle and smile. My mystery girl throws her head back and laughs, her long hair cascades down her back.

Where has this one been hiding?