Page 20 of Game Face

I jog over to Coach’s left side and give the field to Bryce. Coach pairs him with Nick, our number two. He’s not as fast as Keaton, and a small part of me hopes Bryce overestimates his speed and biffs the pass. It’s not what’s best for the program, but it would sure as hell be good for me.

Bryce counts off and Nick takes off for his route, turning to find the pass right at his chest. The catch isn’t as smooth, but that’s more on Nick than it is Bryce, whose timing was actually right on target.Shit.

“I like it! Run it again.” Coach shifts his weight, folding his arms over his chest as he chews at the toothpick in his mouth. The man has an endless supply of those things. It’s more superstition than dental needs for him. He goes through at least a dozen every practice.

For the next hour, Bryce and I trade off running every single play, even the ones Coach only breaks out when he’s feeling lucky. I feel good on my feet, and I’m smoother in the pocket, but I can’t shake this nagging feeling that Bryce simply isn’t going away.

Coach calls us to the sideline after he sends the rest of the guys off to the showers, and the fact the only guys out here are me, my former nemesis (easy on the former), our quarterback coach, and the man who holds my playing fate in his hands has my heart pounding.

“I couldn’t be a happier man right now, gentlemen.” He pulls his glasses from his face, a rarity out here, and his eyes crinkle on the sides from both the sun and his obvious glee. I, however, feel as though I’m slowly sinking into the turf.

“I agree,” Coach Skye, our QB coach, adds with a nod.

I sink deeper.

I’m noting every detail of everything—the way Coach Skye’s teeth are holding on to his thumbnail, his eyes set on Coach to take the lead, Bryce’s slow rock from side to side, his hands knotted behind his back. I feel small, though I’m the tallest dude out here. And I’m getting smaller by the second.

“Wyatt, your recovery is incredible. I can tell you’ve worked your ass off to get back out here at one-hundred percent. You think you can handle the rush? Take the hit if our pocket turns to shit?”

I nod.

“Yes, sir. I’m stronger. I really worked to shore up my core and legs.” I mean, I’ve been working on it, but I feel the same—no better, no worse. That’s not what he wants to hear, though, and now, I’m selling myself like one of those dudes on Wall Street.

“Good. Good.” He’s nodding as his gaze wanders to the empty space between Bryce and me, as if he’s still trying to decide what he’s going to do. When his gaze snaps to Coach Skye, my heart stops.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I’d like to try something,” he says.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I nod and wish I had a mute button for the voice in my head. I glance to my right where Bryce has quit rocking, and his chin lifts a tick.

“Yes, sir.” His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. I’d feel a little bad for the stress he’s feeling if I weren’t in this fucking whirlpool with him.

“I want to run two quarterbacks.”

My instant deep breath is audible, and my chest fills as I lean back. I’m no longer looking directly at Bryce, but I see his posture do the same in my periphery.

“It’s not something we’ve done in a while, and with this season’s schedule, and the different approaches, we’re going to have to tool to every defense. I’d like to give this a try.”

“I’m all in, Coach. Absolutely.” Bryce is practically bouncing on his feet.

I run my fist over my cheek, my mouth open with a million questions at the ready, but when Coach’s gaze hits mine, I shut it. His mind is made up. And he’s about to answer anything he cares to for now. I sink deeper.

“Wyatt, you’re the starter. There’s no doubt that your arm strikes fear in our opponents. We need that. And with our one-two punch in Keaton and Nick, I see big scoring games in our future. Lots of forty-burgers.”

My lungs relax.

“For sure, Coach. It felt good with Keaton today. I think I could hit that dude with my eyes closed, and his speed is up, for sure.”

Sell it, Wyatt!

“Good. I agree. And Bryce?—”

My lungs cinch right up. My stomach hurts.

“I think we need your bulk for those running plays. Maybe we’ll have you in for a pass or two, just to keep people guessing. I want that arm ready, and I want you learning from Wyatt. But when we need to move that ball a yard—punch it in the end zone—I’d like to see what you can do.”

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