Page 8 of Pump Fake

His shoulders slumped, and I almost smiled at the small victory, but I didn’t. It would’ve lightened the mood, and I needed to get the message through his traumatized mind. “You’re also putting a ton of strain on Nana. Do you like making her worry? She always wants the best for you, but your stunts are causing her stress and making her lose sleep.”

“I know.” Preston leaned forward and dropped his elbows onto his knees. “I forget sometimes how much that stuff hurts her.”

“You need to remember. I know you’re still struggling and missing your parents. But we miss them too. You’re not alone here. Nana lost her daughter. I lost my sister. It’s not easy for any of us, but we have to face each day with a little less grief and more determination to find things that make us happy. Not thedestructive ways you’ve been coping. That has to stop. You’re better than that.”

“I just… I don’t know.”

I ruffled his dark-blond curls then dropped my arm around his shoulders in a brief hug. “I get it. Trust me. It’s easier to lash out and get laughs from the class than to face the hole in your heart. Remember that my dad died when I was about your age. I understand what you’re feeling. Find another way to channel your emotions. Go out for a sport. Maybe try weightlifting. Do something so you’re not causing collateral damage to yourself and the people who are here for you and always in your corner.”

“I hear you.”

I blew out a breath. I couldn’t do much else. He needed to think about what I’d said, and lecturing him more would only cause him to stop listening. I hoped what I’d said would make enough of an impression that he would change his behavior. “And drop the crowd that isn’t helping you. You’ve got some great friends. Get back in with them.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Not maybe. Do it.”

He nodded. That was all I would get out of him. I needed to keep closer tabs on him, which would be difficult during football season.

Preston hopped to his feet. “Don’t you have a game Saturday?”

“Yeah. It’s a home game. You gonna be there?”

“Yep.” His wide smile made him look innocent and younger.

I felt a pang in my heart for everything he was going through. “I’ll try to score a touchdown for you, kid.” I winked, got to my feet, and waved as I walked toward my car.

Exhaustion hit me as I got behind the wheel, and Preston’s questions sank in even more. I was in the same boat with him. I had no idea why the hot teacher seemed to have it out for me. I just hoped that didn’t influence her in dealing with my nephew.

Energy pumped through me as I ran onto the field with Kylian in the lead and Liam beside me, the rest of the team following. The stands were packed for our home game, and the roar from the crowd grew in volume. The jumbotron zeroed in on us, and we passed a swarm of reporters and commentators. I loved that part. The entire team did. Our fans were enthusiastic. Their screams and shouts filled the stadium and pumped us up.

I glanced at the stands where Mom and Preston sat and spotted them amid a frenzy of blue towels whirling over people’s heads. Aurora, Kylian’s fiancée, sat with them too. I grinned and waved, then shut everything out except the game. It was time to go to work and win.

It was my senior year, and Kylian, Liam, and I played each game like it was our last. Scouts were watching. It wasn’t just our strengths and weaknesses in play when they evaluated us, but what the coaches said when the scouts interviewed them, how we interacted with teammates and reacted under pressure, and what we did to demonstrate our character. My character was in question, and I worried that it would affect my ability to get an invitation to the combine or be picked up in the draft.

Despite his injury last year, Kylian, our QB1, was rumored to be a first-round draft pick, if not number one overall. He hadn’t let his injury keep him down and had come back even stronger, throwing farther and more accurately than before.

Liam, our starting wide receiver, and I myself as tight end, were also supposed to go early in the draft, but I wasn’t sure of that anymore. Liam was probably fine, but I was less confident for myself, and rightly so.

Minnesota won the coin toss and chose to receive the ball. The kick was solid, and our special teams shut down their receiver. I stood on the sideline along with the rest of our offensiveline until we could take the field. Minnesota had the ball at the thirty-yard line, and I shifted from foot to foot as each snap happened and our defense held. Minnesota gained very few yards, and it wasn’t long before it was our turn.

Our offense stormed the field—hyped, determined, and ready to set the tone for the game. We lined up. The ball was snapped to Kylian, and he dropped back into the pocket with a pump fake. I shot off the line and blocked an overeager defensive lineman making a beeline for our QB1.

The first play was a quick handoff to Liam, resulting in a solid twelve-yard gain and a first down. On the next play, Kylian faked a handoff and launched a rocket to Liam, thirty yards out. The ball dropped into his hands like magic, and he kicked his speed into overdrive. That play put us in the red zone, and the energy on the sidelines was electric.

Nothing was quite like scoring in the first possession. It took another play until we were at the five-yard line. We lined up for the snap. The ball was hiked. Kylian rolled out to the right, and I slammed into a defender our line missed. A gap in the defense opened, and Kylian sprinted through, walking the ball in for a touchdown to the deafening roar of the crowd.

The extra point was good, and the scoreboard lit up, giving us a seven–zero lead.

I practically vibrated with energy on the sideline, bursting to get back on the field. On Minnesota’s possession, they tried to score, but our defense was solid. They barely managed a few yards before being forced to punt.

We took over at our forty-yard line, ready to get back to work. Each possession needed to result in another score, and we were determined to put in the work and make it happen. A mix of runs and short passes got us to their thirty-yard line. A long pass into Liam’s hands, and a burst of speed, resulted in another touchdown for a score of fourteen–zero.

After trading places with our defense, I paced the sideline.Minnesota tried to advance, but our defense continued to dominate. A sack on the fourth down stopped them from punting and pushed them back even farther. We had a great position when we retook the field and wasted no time. The play was set up for a long pass, but Kyl read the field—Liam and Chris, another receiver, were under double coverage. He adjusted with a short pass to me. I tucked the ball and stiff-armed a tackle. A pivot to avoid another defensive opponent, and I had a clear path. I ran it into the end zone then pointed the football in Preston’s direction in the stands. The score was twenty-one–zero, and we had control of the game.

Minnesota was rattled. They struggled to drive the ball as our defense continued to pressure them. Our offense was in top shape and chomping at the bit to retake the field. It didn’t take long. A sack in the third quarter, and they punted the ball. Our special teams ran it in to give us field advantage at Minnesota’s thirty-yard line.

We moved methodically down the field with a series of runs and short passes. When the ball got tipped in a pass to Liam, I lunged and caught it by my fingertips. Tucking it into my body, I plowed through two defensive players and ran it in.

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