Page 165 of The Wrong Play

Matty and Parker both jerked their heads toward me, wide-eyed, looking like someone had just kicked them in the gut. The rest of the team shifted uneasily, some muttering under their breath, others frozen in place, afraid to move.

“Coach…” Parker started, stepping forward. “Come on?—”

Coach shot him a glare, cutting him off immediately. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care if we’re winning or losing, if it’s the fourth quarter or overtime, Thatcher is done.”

Silence.

The kind that stretched heavy and suffocating, the weight of his words slamming into my chest harder than any tackle ever could.

Then, without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door so hard behind him that the walls trembled.

I stayed frozen in place, fists clenched at my sides. My pulse pounded in my ears, my entire body thrumming with adrenaline and frustration.

Benched. For the rest of the season. Just like that.

Parker ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “What the hell was that?”

Matty looked like he might throw up. “Dude. Where did you go?”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “I had to make sure Riley was okay.”

Matty groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Bro, I love you, but how the fuck are we going to fix this?”

Parker stopped pacing, leveling me with a hard stare. “You realize what this means, right?”

I knew. Oh, I knew.

The NFL. The scouts watching. Any possibility of a future in football. All of it—gone.

Because of one choice.

And I didn’t regret it.

Not one bit.

The door slammed open again, and everyone went stiff. Coach stormed back in, but this time, something was different. The color in his face had cooled, and his jaw was no longer clenched like he was about to spontaneously combust.

He exhaled heavily, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off, and then he pointed at me. “You’re back in.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

I blinked. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it twice, Thatcher. I’ve decided to give you one more chance.”

Matty and Parker shared a look of absolute confusion. The rest of the team was equally stunned, staring at Coach like he’d just announced practice was canceled for the rest of the year.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. Something was off. Coach never changed his mind. Not like this. Not after making a declaration that strong.

But I wasn’t about to question it.

I grabbed my helmet. “Yes, sir.”

Coach pointed at me. “Don’t screw this up.” His voice dropped, rough and unyielding. “You pull another stunt like that, and I don’t care how good you are—I’ll bench you so fast your head will spin. You so much as breathe out of line,and you’ll be watching the rest of this season from the fucking stands. You hear me, Thatcher?”

I nodded and jogged back out with the team, the adrenaline roaring back through my veins like fire. We took the field, and the energy in the stadium shifted the second I stepped back on the turf.

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