Page 143 of Promise Me Not

My fingers curl into fists, and I move forward, but I only make it to the line of red tape on the floor before Brady appears.

He shakes his head, dipping down and speaking so only I can hear. “Don’t. I know you want to, but this is her show. Fuck it up, and it’s only gonna make shit worse.”

Worse.

Worse?

How could this possibly get any.

Fucking.

Worse!

As if the universe is testing me, the answer comes with a swift kick to the nuts not four hours later, in the form of a mandatory meeting with Coach Rogan.

“Alister is starting in Friday’s game.”

My pen freezes over the paper midsignature.

“Son.” He shakes his head, my expression clearly shouting thewhat the actual fuck forquestion racing through my mind.“You started this time last year over Riley. You know how I do things. Twice a season, every season, the second string is first out.” He narrows his eyes, and I know he has more to say, so I sit back, cross my arms, and wait for it. “I want you to work with him tomorrow. No less than two hours. Give him pointers and tips, take him under your wing like Riley did you.”

“I’m not Noah, and Alister is far from me.”

“He’s a football player, a damn good one, same as you.”

“He’s a dick who wants all the glory.”

Coach laughs. Loudly. He pushes to his feet, coming around the desk and tugging open his office door. “We all do, son. Every one of us. Some just hide it a little better.” He yanks his head, and I stand. “Watch his film. It’ll be in your inbox in the next ten minutes. Now go. And if I call you in here again, you know why that will be.”

I swallow, give a curt nod, and walk out, my shoulders tight and head high, but the minute I’m out of sight, they both crumble, because damn it—it’s happened.

I knew this was coming, but I guess my mind’s been too preoccupied to really process how screwed I’m on my way to becoming. Academic probation.

Academic probation with a sports waiver that affords me two points.

If I fail my next exams, even one, I’m out.

Fuckingdone.

Benched for the remainder of the season and personally placing Alister on the path to the playoffs, an opportunity he didn’t earn but would no doubt capitalize on. Any man would.

No one gives a shit who got the team there so long as they come home with the win in the end. If he leads the team to victory, where does that leave me?

Where does that leave my future?

I don’t know how I let things get this far. Football has been my life for as long as I can remember, and then Payton came along, and suddenly I had more than the sport I’d dedicated my all to. She became the most important part of my world, and in the mix of what I’d call my heartbreak or fear that she was on her way to breaking my heart by refusing to give me hers, I forgot how important it was to stay strong and steady. Motivated both offandon the field.

Because making it to the next level isn’t just about me and my dreams anymore. It’s about them. Us.

My new dream is to have my girl and our little boy and a family suite in an NFL stadium with my last name on it. To have the means to offer her a happy, fulfilling future where she can travel the world if she wants, taking pictures of all the pretty things she’s ever imagined, me and Little D watching from the sidelines with smiles on our faces.

How could I drop the ball so hard? I should have been doing the opposite. Fighting with all I had for what I could control rather than letting it all fall apart by obsessing over the things I can’t. The thought of losing a life with her would have still been at the forefront of my mind, so how did I allow myself to fumble so far?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shout, shoving the door open and stepping out into the cold November air.

“Take it you heard the good news.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Slowly, I turn my head, and sure enough, there he is, posted up against the side of the building.

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