33. 33 Nathan
33: Nathan
T he team captain of the Atlanta Goblins grunts in disapproval as Bennett scores yet another touchdown. He’s furious, arms flinging up in the air with a growl trembling the corner of his lip.
My team are pulling through today. I can physically see the fire blowing up their asses and spurring them on. We’re so close now. So close to lifting that trophy and being named the champions of the Super Bowl.
The thought isn’t nearly as tempting as it once was, though.
At one point, it was all I wanted, and I needed to achieve it. But my thoughts are elsewhere now.
Every practice. Every game. Those were the moments that defined me. I thought I knew exactly who I was because I had the jersey and the ball in my hands. Every touchdown and tackle felt like I was getting closer to achieving it. Like I was chasing some version of success that would finally make it all feel right.
But things change.
My eyes flicker over to Mae, who’s mid-chat with my sister, both of their cheeks pinched up as they grin. I’ve never seen Poppy this smitten with someone before, and my teeth worry my bottom lip as I think about how lonely she’ll be when we leave.
Sophia had been a good friend of hers, but now, she can’t even look her in the eyes, especially because Mae told her not to confront her about working with our dad.
She has Madison, though.
And Bennett.
She’ll be okay.
“Slater! Get your head back in the game!” The voice takes me off guard, and I turn to see Peter, the manager of The Missarali Storks, glaring at me from the sidelines.
I can’t help but grunt.
Nice of the guy to finally show up.
My feet push off the turf. The defensive back is at my hip, but I pretend he’s not there as I glance up at the ball that’s just been thrown in my direction. My legs pump harder, and with one more step, I swipe the ball from the air, clutching it to my chest. My fingers curl around the leather—cool and textured against my clammy palms.
The end zone is just ahead, but I can feel the defender's shadow creeping up on me—so close he’s just inches away from swiping at me and crushing me to the ground.
I swear I hear Mae’s voice, loud and encouraging, and with her in my mind, I take one final pace, the end zone line disappearing under my cleats. Then, I’m across it, the crowd hooting and my teammates rushing over to smack my helmet in appreciation.
I should have brain damage with the amount they do it.
The final whistle is blown, indicating that the Missarali Storks have won, and Evan pats my back as he beams. “Nice work, Captain.”
Gazing out at my team, a warm feeling swells in my heart. These guys have been my family when I had no one. They’ve worked so hard. And I know they’ll do it. They can win this. They just don’t need me for it—not when my heart isn’t entirely in the game, not when the media will focus on me and my scandal if I wait until after we win to announce what Mae and I are, detracting from their hard work and dedication.
Because although most people would feel ecstatic scoring that touchdown, all I can think about is never having to do it again, and they deserve a captain whose passion is spilling from his ears.
My father catches my attention in the crowd. He’s watching me, head cocked and lips flat as he follows my gaze to the beautiful woman who’s stolen my heart. He shakes his head subtly, and I notice his fingers fiddling with the pocket of his fleece, pulling out a thick wad of photos.
Another silent warning.
Reminding me of what he has on me.
Reminding me that my role here as captain for the Storks can be over in a second with the flick of his wrist.
Reminding me that he has the control. The power.
He always has.
Rage seethes inside me. This man is nothing to me. He may be my flesh and blood, but I’m not allowing him to dictate my life anymore.
Not when Mae is on the line.
Yanking my helmet off, I begin moving over to her, raising my eyebrows at my father. My face is blank as I stare at him.
His eyes are toxic, latching onto me, trying to suck all the courage from my flesh.
But he’s nothing but an ineffective leech. Burdensome and irritating. Useless to me.
The crowd quiets, and I’m well aware my form is enlarged on the jumbotron above, the cameras following my movement. I stop in front of Mae.
“What are you doing?” she mutters to me, eyes flashing with a hint of concern, but I pick up on the way her teeth clamp down on her lower lip to stifle her smile.
Challenging.
Daring.
This woman.
“Taking the power back,” I say, right as I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her.
Nothing else matters right now. This kiss is being live-streamed to millions of people across America, and still, I can’t find a fuck to give. Because football is no longer my priority. I’ve come to realise it never really was. It just happened to be one of the only things I actually cared about.
Mae has shown me I’m way more than football, though. And I hope she knows she’s more than just a daughter her mother dislikes. More than a veterinarian student. More than a member of the Missarali cheerleading squad.
She’s her. And that’s all she needs to be.
All we both need to be.
Mae melts into the kiss. Her hands find the back of my neck, nails digging into my skin and making me groan.
People are hushed around us, and I almost want to pull away early just to see the look on everyone’s faces. We’ll probably get a mixed reaction, but I’m showing everyone this is our choice.
This is what we want.
My father’s photos won’t mean shit to anyone now. No tabloids are going to want them when they can plaster a photograph of Mae and I macking on with each other in front of a crowd of sixty thousand people on the front cover of their magazines.
I eventually pull away, but I don’t bother looking around yet. I allow my thumb to caress Mae’s flushed cheek, and she grins and presses her face into my jersey.
“Can’t take it back now, princess,” I tell her.
But she just looks up at me with those doe-like hazel eyes and says, “Wouldn’t want to even if I could, Nate . ”
My head jerks at the sound of a deep “Whoop.” Bennett’s clapping, smiling from ear to ear. Evan’s chuckling, giving me a look that says impressive. But the rest of my teammates are staring with their mouths open—so wide they could catch flies.
Cam isn’t here, but I have no doubt the news will travel fast and I’ll receive some choice words from him when I next look at my phone.
He came to me the other week after finding out about Mae and me, and although I took his threat seriously, I know he’s clever enough not to follow through with it. Cam’s not a violent guy.
The crowd are cheering. Because I’m showing them that Mae isn’t just some fling. I’ve made our relationship public.
And even though a lot of them look fucking confused, as if they’ve missed something, I love it. I love this . I gaze at Mae. I love us.
My eyes travel to my father’s seat, but I find it empty, and Mae sighs when she meets her mother’s shocked stare. Her throat bobs, but Renee quickly averts her eyes and sits back on the bench, eyes latched onto the grass below as she takes it in.
She doesn’t look happy, but she isn’t enraged like I assumed she’d be.
Darrell strolls up to me and claps me on the back, the force harsh but friendly. He shakes his head and chuckles before saying, “About fucking time, Slater. I was wondering when you would get the guts to do something for yourself.”
“Slater, what was that?” Peter’s stocky form steps in front of me, the fluorescent lights above beaming down on his bald head in the stadium corridor.
I wonder if he polishes it or if it’s just naturally that blinding.
I shrug. I’m trying not to give Peter attitude, but he hasn’t bothered to show up for any of our games until now. So, I don’t understand how he demands respect when he doesn’t even care about the team he manages.
Darrell’s the one who puts in all the hard work. Peter just takes the money.
He pinches the bridge of his nose as my coach rounds the corner. “Darrell, you reminded them of the no-fraternisation rule, yes?”
“Of course. It’s in the contract.” Darrell tries to hide his smile. Although he wants me on the team, I think he knows I’m done with football. I have been for a long time. We’ve not spoken about it, but he’s not an idiot.
“I understand the terms of the contract I signed and the repercussions I’ll face,” I tell them both.
“You surely can’t proceed with legal action, Peter?” Darrell tries to reason with him, gesturing to me. “He’s been a loyal captain. Nathan has done a lot for this team. More than most.” He eyes him up, his subtle dig not so subtle.
Peter shakes his head. “Legal action will cost the team money. Sponsorships. Their image.”
Of course. It all comes back to money.
“Nathan,” Peter sighs, “Fuck.” His hand finds his bald head, and he rubs it as if it’s a crystal ball that will give him the answer on how to handle this predicament. “Right, we’ll claim it was a publicity stunt. To get people talking about the team.”
I cock my head. “Excuse me?”
My father’s now joined the conversation, arms crossed over his chest as his nostrils flare. “So you’re saying you won’t kick Nathan off the team? As long as he runs with the narrative that it was all for show?”
Peter dips his head as he clicks his fingers. He truly believes he’s just come up with the world’s most fantastic idea. “Yes, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll say this was planned. We can tell the rest of the team we were in on this. We can win the Super Bowl if we—”
“I quit.”
All three heads turn to me, eyes bugging.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Kevin Slater seethes, face so red it looks like he’s morphing into a life-size tomato.
“Your hearing aid not working, old man?” I ask him, pointing to my own ear mockingly. “I said I quit.”
Taking a few steps back, I shrug as they gawk at me. Have I grown a second head or something?
I quit.
I quit.
I quit.
Two small words that hold so much power.
They’ve replayed over and over again in my head for years. And yet, I never had the ability to say them aloud. There were too many reasons not to, but since meeting Mae, those reasons have quickly dissipated.
“Nathan, think about this logically,” Peter attempts to reason with me, desperation slipping into his usual monotone voice. “We’re so close. This could be our year!”
“ Your year.” I nod towards him. “The team will be just fine without me. I’ve failed to follow the terms of the contract, so if you won’t fire me, then I quit.”
Darrell dips his chin in understanding. There’s a sliver of disappointment lingering in his eyes, but he doesn’t try to talk me out of it. He wants the best for me, and he knows that football has been an ever-growing burden for years now.
When I first joined the team, I could hide it. Tell myself it wasn’t that heavy. But as time has passed, it’s started to cling to me like a baby monkey to its mother.
Cracks have been forming for as long as I can remember, and it’s finally all come crumbling down.
And I’m not the least bit disappointed about it either.
“All this… for a girl?” my father spits in disbelief. “What about when it doesn’t work out? This would have all been for nothing, Nathan.”
I eye him up, my chest tight with loathing for the man who wrecked my childhood. “It will work out, but my relationship is not your concern.”
“So that’s what you're calling it? A relationship?” He scoffs, and I’m shocked when Darrell turns to my father blankly.
“Nathan’s a smart man. He can make his own decision. I, for one, am happy for you.” He smiles at me before addressing my father again. “I don’t believe you have the correct pass to be in this restricted area, anyway. It’s in your best interest to leave before I get security down here.” Darrell edges closer to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Do what you need to do.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
He grins. “That’s ex-coach to you.”
And with that, I spin on my heel and turn my back on them.
Turn my back on football.
And it feels fucking euphoric.
Because my future isn’t this sport anymore.
It’s the beautiful woman who I can now publicly call mine.