Page 95 of Unstoppable Love

“Feeling good and looking even better,” Joe Hamm, my buddy and lead running back, said as he swung his helmet in his hand next to me.

“Feels better to be back out here.”

“And winning.”

“And winning,” I agreed. “Definitely that. That was a nice run you had before the half.”

I’d handed him the ball when we needed two yards for a first down on a third down. He’d pile-drove his way into a wall of Las Vegas’s defense, somehow found a hole, and ran an additional thirty yards, putting us in field goal range with thirty seconds in the half, which led to us being up by twenty and giving us a chance to breathe easy.

A cheer shook the entire stadium, and Coach was losing his mind screaming, “Offense! On the field!”

“Turnover.” Joe shoved his helmet on and slapped my shoulder. “Let’s go show them how it’s supposed to be done!”

I jogged out to the middle of the field and huddled up with my guys. We’d recovered a fumble from Vegas’s tight end on their forty-yard line.

“Forty yards!” I shouted into the huddle. “Who wants to bet we score six in six plays?”

A quick six plays wouldn’t give our defense much time to rest, but they’d only been on the field for two plays anyway. They could use the exercise.

Marlin joined in. “Five hundred says six in four if you slip it to me.”

“You’re on!” I called the play. We clapped hands and lined up. My center snapped me the ball, and I turned, handed it off to Marlin.

I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not we’d made the bet because Marlin slipped past two defenders, hurdled his last one, and jogged the ball into the end zone.

One play. Six points.

Yeah. This was going to be our year.

By the end of the third quarter, we were up by thirty-five points. The stadium was, surprisingly, not emptying yet, although I anticipated it’d happen later in the fourth. But we had sunshine, good weather, a winning team, and a rabid fan base. It was rare that our seats emptied out.

“Kelley.”

I turned to Coach, who was coming at me with his headset on, microphone tugged down beneath his chin, laminated play calling card in his hand.

“You’re not going to like this, but I’m putting in Potter for the fourth.”

“The hell you are.”

“Game’s a lock, and it’s early in the season. Need you to stay healthy and need his nerves to be a thing of his past.”

It made sense, but no competitor wanted to be sidelined, even staring down a guaranteed lead. “Potter’s nerves are fine.”

It wasn’t like I was worried about him taking my spot. He was good, and in a year or two would be even better, but I sure as hell wasn’t giving management any reason to choose him over me if it wasn’t necessary.

“And you’re sitting. Take a load off. Relax. Or throw on a mic and help him out if he needs it.”

“This is fucking stupid.”

“So’s your attitude, so fix it.” He clamped his hand on my shoulder and gave me a quick shake. “You’ll lead this team to the Super Bowl. We all have faith in you. But if the worst happens, we need him ready to step up. Be the team leader I know you are.”

Shit. Guilt trips from Coach were almost as bad as if they were coming from my dad. Two men I respected most in this world and always had my best interests at heart.

“Fine.” I dipped my chin down, tore off my helmet, and did exactly what he asked.

I grabbed a headset and stood on the sideline while Jamison Potter carried our team through the fourth.

In the end, we kept our thirty-five-point lead, with Vegas finally scoring their first touchdown since the second quarter and Potter firing off a pass to Biles with two minutes left for a touchdown.

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