Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
36
JONES
The lead slips through our fingers as the Indianapolis offense attacks with ferocity in the second half.
Their quarterback marches downfield, earning first down after first down, launching beautiful passes that turn into even more beautiful catches. They pull in front by six.
With crossed arms, I stare at the action on the field, searching for a way for us to regain the lead. Cooper is by my side, and Coach Greenhaven reviews the upcoming play—his plan of attack for when we get the ball again.
Once we do, we trot out to the field, ready, absolutely ready. As the noise in the stadium rises to deafening levels, Cooper drops back in the pocket and I cut across the field in a new route the Indy defense hasn’t seen from us before. Cooper’s arm is a gun, and he takes aim.
My eyes zero in on the ball. All I know is the hunt. Hunt that ball, haul it in, and take it to the end zone. Scan left and right, watch for predators. Dodge this way, dart that way, the target in my crosshairs.
As the ball soars through the air, I race for it. It’s ten feet away, five feet away. It’s in my hands.
A surge of energy lights up my chest, powering me like an electric grid. It barrels through my legs, and I race, blinders on, the end zone in sight, my guys blocking for me. At the five-yard line, a touchdown seems a foregone conclusion, but a safety catches up from out of nowhere, slamming into me.
Clutching the ball like the precious cargo it is, I take another huge step, and one more, until all the air spills from my lungs as he hits hard again.
My ears ring.
My bones rattle.
The collision echoes through my body as I crumple. My knee slams against the grass, then the rest of me smashes to the earth in a crush of limbs.
The safety’s legs tangle up with mine, and the heavy weight of his body shoves my knee harder against the ground.
Harder than I’ve felt before.
Then, everything turns into déjà vu.
This must be how Garrett felt when he fell.
37
JILLIAN
My heart jams my throat.
Fear attacks every cell in my body.
A player’s down. But not just any player. My player.
I rush to the window of the press suite where I’ve been watching. I press my fingers to the glass, and my veins flood with a primal, wild fear.
Jones lies on the field, grappling with his right leg.
“Oh God.” A tear streams down my cheek, and I snap my gaze to the TV screen as the camera zooms in on him. The trainer’s already there—the coach, too. Harlan kneels next to him, offering a hand.
The shot of his face shows Jones wincing. The pain seems to ricochet through him, and I wish I could take it on for him. My feet are glued to the floor and my eyes to the screen. I can’t look away.
“We don’t know what happened to Jones Beckett, and whether he can walk it off or not. But that was one tough fall as Collings rammed into him right at the end zone,” the announcer says. “I’ve seen these kinds of falls before, and sometimes you get right up, and sometimes you don’t.”
Shut up, I want to say. He’ll get up.
To the screen, I mouth, Get up. Please get up.
Jones rolls to his side, his big, beautiful hands clutching his right knee.
Harlan slides an arm under him, the trainer on the other side as Jones hobbles off the field with them.
I run like hell from the suite, down the hall, and to the elevator that’ll take me to the locker room. He’s not even going to the sidelines medical tents. They’re taking him to the locker room, and that means it’s serious.
“C’mon,” I mutter as I wave my ID tag at the card reader, and I wait and I wait and I wait. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I try to find some information, but that’s stupid. That’s pointless.
ESPN has no more data than I do.
This is happening in real time, and I need to get to him.
38
JONES
They say all good things must come to an end. They say anything can happen any given Sunday.
But I’m not thinking about football as Miles, the trainer, becomes my crutch, taking me to the lower floor of the stadium where the team doctor waits. Harlan stays behind to play.
This is my biggest fear—a career-ending injury—and as the very real prospect of never playing football again hangs in the balance, a new terror races through me—the horror that I’ve royally fucked up.
I’m on the cusp of losing it all, watching everything I’ve worked for splinter to pieces, but I’ve forgotten one important thing—to tell the woman I love that I love her before the game started.