Page 47 of Promise Me Not

Coach blows the whistle,and I drop back as my receiver zips down the field, running his route. He does a little stutter step, as if juking a defender, and the ball sails from my fingertips. I watch as he slants right, the ball dropping straight into his arms. A perfect fucking pass.

I step back, and my alternate slides in, my lips pinching tightly as he does the same, and then I roll in again. This receiver is slower than the other, his footwork not as smooth, so I hold a split second longer, then fire.

Catch.

“Better hope your line is strong, Johnson.” Alister Howl, the wannabe me taunts, stepping into the pocket. “Wouldn’t want you to get sacked and break some more ribs. Or was it the shoulder?”

Before I know I’m doing it, I’m jerking toward him, but my jersey is caught around the neck, and I’m tugged back.

My eyes snap up, staring at the familiar green ones through the dark blue face mask.

“Don’t.” Chase snaps around his mouthpiece, scowling from me to the new fucking punk. “Focus.”

I scoff, tear away, and slam my left shoulder into Alister hard enough to make him stumble.

“Bitch,” he hisses, looking away when Coach’s head snaps our way.

The asshole has an issue with me, and he made it obvious on day one, but hey, I’m the guy he has to beat if he wants a spot on the roster that’s worth a damn. Assuming that’s what’s got his jockstrap twisted so tight.

Again, a receiver runs his route, my feet moving without thought, working on muscle memory.

Money shot.

I shuffle back, swiftly pressing my chest into Alister’s as he slides forward. “Don’t worry, backup boy.My lineis fuckingsolid.”

He glares, angrily snagging a ball off the cart and stepping up again.

Chase flies down the field like a demon on wheels, nailing his route, but Alister misjudges his speed and distance. Chase is standing there waiting for the ball to drop for a full second.

Alister spits on the ground, and I know Chase is smirking around his mouthpiece.

He’s always got my back.

My glare is instant, images of last night flashing through my mind, and I clench my teeth.

So, what, he’s got her back now, too?

Since when?

Why?

Why am I being such a bitch about it?

I want her to have all the support she needs and more…but I want her to want it all from me first.

I thought she did.

I pick up another ball and go again. And again.

I was the first to hit the field, and three hours later, I’m the last to step off it.

“You good?” Brady asks when I finally walk into the locker room, his bag already packed and hanging over his shoulder.

“Yup.” I move right past him.

“Want me to wait?”

“Nope.”

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