Page 107 of Blitz'd

I cackle, heading onto the field to make good use of the position Russ put us in. Thirty yards is nothing. Short passes or run routes will get us close enough to score a touchdown. I just have to keep moving the ball and avoid getting sacked.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my towel in the front of my pants and line up behind my center. “Seventy-two West. Seventy-two West. Set hut.”

The ball is snapped, and it’s an immediate blitz. Cursing, I drop back and throw before I’m taken to the turf. My tight end caught it by his fucking fingertips and we get the first down. Twenty yards for a touchdown.

Again, I line up behind my center and call the play. Chuck snaps the ball and I move in the pocket, searching for an opening. I spot my tight end open. I lob him the pass and watch as he catches it, effortlessly this time. It’s a beautiful pass, dropping into his open hands as if personally delivered to him. A Meridian player is there to take him off his feet, but it doesn’t fucking matter. We’re first and goal. We’re right fucking there.

What happens next occurs almost in slow motion. I raise my hands to celebrate the catch, but movement from the corner of my eye gets my attention. I only have time to gasp before a helmet smacks against mine, sending me tumbling to the turf.

I’m surrounded by darkness before I even hit the ground.

ChapterThirty-Seven

KERIAN

He’s not moving.I can see it from where I’m standing on the sidelines. I almostfeltthe impact when Easton slammed into him. Fucking dirty late hit.

I should get up andkillEaston, but I can’t.

I can’t, becauseZander isn’t moving.

He’s lying on his back and his team swarms around him… and it takes me a second to realize that the angry shouts are from those same men as I shove them to the side and drop down to my knees beside the prone man. I didn’t even realize I’d gotten up and taken off at a run across the field until I hit the grass beside him.

“Zander?” I say his name softly, ripping my helmet off so I can drop my forehead against his and whisper, “Fuck, baby? Are you okay?”

“Get the fuck off him Slade, he?—”

“If you fucking touch me, I’ll break your goddamn arm.” I snarl the words out at whichever asshole teammate of his thinks he can make me leave. But the venom in my words dies when there’s a small shift of movement beneath me and Zander groans.

“Coach is gonna kick your ass if you talk to him like that again.” His voice is weak, the tone dazed… but his eyes slowly open and he tries to smile at me.

The streak of pain that crosses his features tells me he took just as hard a hit as I thought he did.

Hopefully it’s not a concussion.

I’m not sure if anything isbroken.

I don’t know if this is something minor, or something that’s going to fuck with his chances of getting drafted.

I just know that I want tokillEaston for hitting him so hard.

It’s almost impossible to tear my eyes away from Zander’s face, but I do long enough to look up… and I see that assholesmiling.Easton looks like Christmas came early, and I don’t realize I’m moving until I feel a faint sensation of fingers on my wrist.

I look at Zander’s hand and frown.

“I’m okay.” He mutters it, but his voice sounds so dazed I know heisn’t. And judging from the expression on Easton’s face, that was theplanall along. He’d wanted to hurt him.

That motherfucker pretty much signed his own death warrant.

I stay by Zander’s side as he slowly blinks up at me, and the small flash of pain that shoots across his features when he tries to sit up lets me know he’s probably hiding more behind a brave face.

“Slade, you need to get back to?—”

I turn to my coach with narrowed eyes, and I watch his expression morph from one of concern to fear… and then a streak of understanding when he glances down and sees my fingers linked with Zander’s own. I hadn’t really cared how he would react if he realized we were together, but his head tilts and he frowns.

“I’m staying with him.”

“I’m fine, babe. Really.” Even as he says it, Zander’s fingers flex in mine like his body wants to argue.

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