Chapter One
Tucker
I’m playing in the motherfucking Super Bowl!
The thought slams into me again and again as I grit my teeth, my body aching like I’ve been run over by a truck. Every yard, every second, I fight to stay present—my cleats digging into the turf as I replay it all in my head. This is it. If only we were doing better.
We’ve tried every damn play in the book—zone, belly, inside, outside. Nothing’s breaking through. Their defense is a goddamn fortress. I’ve had my bell rung more times than I can count tonight, and there’s this constant ringing in my ears, but I can’t stop. Not now. Not when we’re tied with nine seconds on the clock.
My muscles are sore, my lungs are burning, but the endorphins are high, pushing me through.
Then, the snap.
I bolt forward, legs pounding the ground, pain forgotten. It’s a fucking Hail Mary. The kind of play that either cements your legacy or haunts you forever. My heart races in time with mysteps, linebacker to the left, strong safety to the right—both of them closing in like lions hunting their prey. I’m not just going to catch this. Ihaveto make this catch.
I told our quickbooks, TJ Holloway, that he could bet the Super Bowl on it.
TJ Holloway lets the ball fly, and suddenly, everything falls away. The crowd fades. The lights blur. All I hear is my own breath, ragged and harsh, and my chest thumping wildly against my rib cage. Then Luca Benson's voice cuts through my thoughts— my best friend and the quarterback for our high school team. What he used to tell me before those Friday night lights.
Calm your thoughts. Imagine there’s an invisible string between your hands and the ball. It’s meant for you.
Time slows as the ball sails through the air, spiraling towards me. I jump up to make the catch. For a second, it feels like a dream—surreal, distant—until the leather smacks into my hands. The impact jars me back into the moment. My feet hit the ground again, and the world rushes in.
I spin on instinct, dodging a diving tackle, and twist out of another defender’s grip. The field opens up in front of me, and I pour every ounce of speed I have left into my legs.
The defenders?
They’re nothing but dust now. I fly past the end zone, the roar of the stadium hitting me like a tidal wave, rattling my bones.
I glance down at the ball still cradled in my hands—my heart pounding against my ribs—when suddenly, my teammates crash into me from every direction.
"Holy shit!" someone yells through their helmet, but I barely hear them over the deafening screams and cheers of the fans in the stadium going wild.
"We fucking did it!" I yell back, my voice hoarse as the weight of the moment hits me all at once. This is it. This is what I’ve fought for my whole damn life. The wear on my body, the hoursof training, the endless grind—it all led to this. I feel like I’m floating, adrenaline surging through my veins, making me want to run a marathon even though I can barely stand.
Fireworks explode in the sky above us, and confetti rains down, so thick it’s like a blizzard. I never thought the stadium could get any louder than it did in those last seconds, but now it’s like the whole world is screaming with us.
WE WON THE GODDAMN SUPER BOWL!
My first thought?
I wish Lexi was here, standing on the sidelines, running towards me and jumping into my arms.
I see TJ Holloway's wife wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. And I know exactly what's missing and what all this is for.
It hits me that she's in the forefront of my mind when I just made the biggest career goal a reality.
The last time I saw Lexi Benson was six years ago, when I held her in my arms at her parents' lake house outside of Chicago. It was her eighteenth birthday. I’d driven nine hours straight from Ole' Miss to surprise her. We spent three nights together—nights that burned themselves into my memory, nights that changed everything.
But she was never really mine, was she?
I shake off the thought, blinking back into the present. This isn’t the time to get lost in the past. I’m on cloud nine. I just accomplished the dream of a lifetime.
More faces blur by me as teammates slap my back, coaches pull me into bear hugs, and strangers congratulate me like we’re family. I can barely believe this is real. I’m standing on top of the world, and I don’t think I’ll sleep for a week.
But beneath all that adrenaline, there’s a flicker of something else. So many people who I wish were here but aren't.
My mom who we lost to breast cancer when I was a kid…