Page 68 of Playing Rucking Hard

I need to step up and show Squid he made the right decision in hooking his future to my wagon. I need to be man enough for both of us so he can reclaim what’s left of his childhood. He’s off to high school next year and those years are going to slip by in a flash. These are the days we need to make memories, for me to prove to him that I’m worthy of being his role model. But how the fuck can I be a role model when my decisions put the woman I love at risk?

Then there are the Southern Mavericks. I’m supposed to be one of the best players on the field. Instead, I feel like I’m moving through mud.

Knowing what’s wrong and doing something about it are two different things. The anger at being dumb enough to get caught burns through my veins, and since I’m not into self-flagellation, my fists are ready to connect with anyone who gets in my way.

“Fucking pull it together, Bean Stalker,” Loki huffs after having to cover my ass in a tackle I should have been able to make in my sleep. “Whoever she is, fuck her and forget her.”

His words burn. Since rumors circulated during the week, Loki and Bodhi have started calling me Bean Stalker in the privacy of the locker room, but this is the first time they’ve taken it to the field.

“Watch your mouth,” I demand, refusing to run back into position until I get an acknowledgement. “Don’t talk trash about her.”

“Oh, little Bean Stalker is in luuuve. How sweet. Does she know or have you been hiding in her locker, waiting for her to notice you?”

“You fucking prick.” The play is on the other side of the field and it takes a minute for the players to realize two Mavericksare down on the ground in a wrestling match. I’ve landed three punches to Loki’s face before he grabs me in a hold and brings me to the ground.

“Easy, Dyl, easy.” He tries to soothe, but I’m not having any of it. Call me a stalker in public and my reputation’s over. My old man will go back to court, and Squid will be lost to me forever. As for Emma … we’ll never have a chance. She has to protect her sister and the media will chew her up for dating a stalker.

“I just can’t,” I say, more to myself than to Loki.

“Dyl, stop trying to fucking punch me, and I’ll let you go. We’ll get up, shake hands and come up with a cover story … yeah?”

“Fucking prick.” At least I stop trying to reach his face. Although, the fresh cut above his eye looks more impressive than it probably is.

“That’s Mr. Forward Prick, to you.” Loki yanks me to my feet as the sideline referee approaches the game ref to make a report. “Hey, just a disagreement among friends,” Loki calls out. “What are you gonna do? Give the other team a penalty because Dyl got a lucky shot?”

He laughs, and Cooper puts his body between me and the ref. I can’t hear what goes down, but it’s enough to put me on report. Fine. I’ll stand in front of the game judiciary and plea my case if I get charged after the game.

“Enough with the stalker crap,” I hiss when Loki comes over to shake my hand for show. “That shit can get outa hand quicker than you can think.”

“Then pull your head out of your ass and play like you wanna be here.” Loki hisses back as we fall back into position. “You’ve got her attention. Watcha gonna do with it?”

I look over to the sideline where all the cheerleaders are staring at Loki and me even though the game is on the other side of the field. Loki’s right, I need to tackle the devil in front of me, and right now, it’s the opposition.

Play the game in front of you, not the one that’s happening next week.I hate when my old man’s words come back and make sense. It reminds me he wasn’t always an abusive husband. Once upon a time, he was my hero.

Then be Squid’s hero. Starting fucking now.

Emma’s voice, her rejection, the way she walked away like I meant nothing. It’s playing on a loop in my head, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it.She’s next week’s game. Focus on today.

The whistle blows, snapping me back. The opposition kicks off, and the ball soars high, coming straight toward me. I step into position, hands up, ready to leap above the other players running in. My eyes are on the ball. It’s the only thing I see.

“Come on, Dyl.” It’s her voice. A momentary distraction.

A blink, and it’s over. The ball bounces off my fingers and hits the turf, and before I can recover, a front-rower from the other team dives on it, securing possession.

“Fucking hell, Fleski!” Bodhi’s voice cuts through the noise as we scramble into defensive formation. “Wake up!”

I shake out my hands, clenching and unclenching my fingers like I can physically force myself to snap out of it. But the game keeps slipping through my grasp, just like Emma did.

We’re down by six with five minutes left, and I’m on edge. I need to do something. I need to fix this.

The opposition spreads the ball wide, and I see the gap forming. I charge forward, ready to make the tackle that will turn this around …

But I’m too late.

I hesitate for a split second, and that’s all they need. Their winger steps inside, ducks past me, and crosses the try line untouched. The crowd erupts, and I already know what’s coming.

The scoreboard flashes. Mavericks: 14. Opposition: 18. With a conversion kick to come, it’s game over.

---