Page 95 of Well Played

Tanner nodded. “Yup. They narrowed it down to me and one other guy. Said they’ll have their decision by the end of the week.”

Presley’s forehead wrinkled. “Well, good luck.”

“Yeah,” I tilted my coffee mug toward him. “Knock ’em dead.” I pushed off the counter. “I’m gonna hit the shower. I have shit to do today.”

My eyes caught Presley’s, and I nodded before heading back to my room. It made me crazy to walk away and leave the two of them alone in the kitchen. So how the hell was I going to survive walking away completely in two weeks?

***

I’d had an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach all morning, since my conversation with Presley in the kitchen. So after I went to the eye doctor and worked out with my trainer, I decided to stop up at Alex’s peewee football practice. Presley was sitting in the bleachers with a bunch of women I’d never met.

“Oh my God,” one said. “You’re Levi Miller—the quarterback.”

I offered my standard-issue smile and nodded. “I am. Good to meet you.”

“Will you be here for long? My son is your biggest fan. Practice will be over in about twenty minutes, and he would absolutely die if he knew you were here and he didn’t get to meet you.”

I exchanged glances with Presley. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen. Sure, I’m gonna watch practice for a while anyway. Which one is your son?”

“He’s a running back. Number forty-four.”

“I’ll keep my eye on him and see if I can give him any pointers when practice ends.” I looked at Presley and nodded toward the team. “I’m going to walk down to the other end of the field where the kids are to get a closer look.”

She stood. “I’ll come.”

I heard all of the women whispering as we walked from the bleachers. One said something about my ass.

I shook my head. “And they say men are bad.”

Presley smiled. “Can you really crack a walnut with your ass cheeks? I’d like to see it, if you can.”

I chuckled. “Is that what she just said?”

“It is, indeed.”

“Well, I’ve never tried. But I’m game to give it a shot if you’re into that sort of thing.”

We both laughed, and the tension I’d felt since the kitchen this morning waned for the first time. But that fleeting moment of calm was abruptly interrupted by a harrowing scream.Alex’s scream.When you play a sport where more than half the guys are usually operating with some sort of an injury, you get to be an expert at reading the level of pain from only a yelp. And this one…was not good. The opening to get onto the field was still another twenty yards away, so I hopped the fence and ran to where Alex was lying on the ground. Two coaches hovered over him.

“My ankle. My ankle.” He rolled to his side.

I knelt down. “Don’t try to move it, buddy.”

“Uncle Levi,it hurts.”

One of the coaches looked up at me. “Holy shit. You’re Levi Miller.”

I ignored him. “Tell me what the pain feels like, Alex.”

“It’s sharp—and shooting up my leg.”

His little ankle was also starting to bruise and swell.Not a good sign.

Presley made her way over. “Are you okay?”

“I think we should run him to the hospital to be on the safe side.”

She nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

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