Page 122 of Bump and Run

“I can explain—”

“You’re benched, Junior.”

My jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says. “You’re not playing tonight. You can sit this one out.”

I look at the field again, listening to the thunderous cries of the crowd. “You can’t just not let me play — it’s the final game of the season.”

“I can and I will.”

“We’ll lose.”

“Good.” He doesn’t even blink. “Losing is good for you sometimes. Maybe having this championship pulled out from under you will make you think twice about disobeying me again.”

Every piece of me burns red. “She’s an adult,” I argue. “She can date whoever she wants—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her.” He steps forward, towering over me like a damn giant. “You’ve done enough scoring this season, Junior. Next season, you can try again.”

I shake my head. “This is bullshit. You have no right—”

“Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll make sure you never pick up another ball for the rest of your life.” He narrows his eyes. “Think about that, Junior. Is she really worth throwing your dreams away for?”

My vision blurs with spots of white. The crowd fades in my ears, leaving nothing but the pleasant memory of Eliza laughing in my bed.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “I’m dating Eliza but that’s not enough of a reason to let the team waste an entire season.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“Then how about this?” He lowers his voice, growling through a thin line between his teeth. “I’m benching you for letting me down, for letting this team down, but mostly, I’m benching you for knocking up my daughter.”

My heart sinks. “Wait — what?”

He points a stiff finger at the field. “Get out there, sit down, and don’t get up again until the clock strikes zero and the crowd boos your name… or you’re finished.”

Eliza.

She knew. It was written all over her face but I couldn’t see it.

“Now, Junior.”

I pause, split between her and the team and everything in the middle. My feet carry me towards the field, slowly drifting on air and I don’t even realize it when I sit down on the bench.

Eliza Pierce is having my baby.

* * *

“Junior! Junior! Junior!”

At the start of the game, their cries were eager and excited. A lot can change in less than two hours.

Now, they’re angry and confused. They’re calling my name with seething hatred just like Cary Pierce wants them to and I have to sit here and take it or my life as an athlete is over.

I keep my head down, staring at the grass beneath me to avoid the eyes of the rest of the team.

It’s not their overwhelming disappointment in me keeping me in place on this bench. It’s not the plummeting scoreboard leaving me numb inside, nor the constant sound of my teammates getting trampled across the gridiron.

---