Chapter Three
LIAM
I tore across the turf, following the new route Coach Mack wanted the wide receivers to practice.
I dug in, weaving through defenders, shaking free of a tackle before cutting hard to the right.
Kylian’s perfect spiral fell into my hands like a gift.
I tucked the ball in and sprinted to the end zone.
When I jogged back, tossing the ball to Coach Mack, I caught a glimpse of Skye’s long hair dancing in the wind as she bent along the sideline, snapping pictures.
She was everywhere, and no matter how much I tried to ignore her, she had a way of getting under my skin.
I didn’t know what pissed me off more—that she’d left without a word or that seeing her still made my chest ache in ways I hated admitting.
After staying up until two a.m. the previous night trying to make sense of my chemistry homework and stressing about the test I’d probably bombed, I gave up.
My mind kept drifting between plays I needed to memorize and the final looming ahead.
That was when I caved and scrolled through the team’s Instagram account.
Since she’d taken over, the engagement had skyrocketed.
The pictures were… well, they were outstanding.
She had talent and a way of humanizing us, getting people even more invested.
Her approach reminded me of the NFL documentaries that followed a few professional athletes.
We practiced three new plays until they were smooth. When training drew to a close, Coach Mack motioned me over. “Cartwright, a word?”
I kept my gaze trained on him, not Skye, who was packing her stuff nearby. “What’s up, Coach?” I halted before him, tugging off my helmet and tucking it under my arm.
“Got a call from Professor White.”
My heart plummeted, and sweat broke out across my forehead. That couldn’t be good. “Oh yeah?”
“Don’t give me that nonchalant bullshit. You failed your last test. You know what that means?”
I didn’t answer. I knew damn well it was rhetorical. He would have my ass if I even tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal.
“You’re on thin ice, Cartwright. Fail another test, and you’ll lose your eligibility—and scouts won’t bother sticking around to see you ride the bench.”
Coach Mack’s words faded as panic set in.
School didn’t come as easily to me as it did to Kylian and Ares.
Not to mention I’d fucked off my first two years, not caring about my grades.
It didn’t help my GPA or my current position with the last two semesters of upper-level classes.
My communication classes tended to offset some of the lower grades in other courses, but it was too little too late.
I was fucked if I didn’t get a passing grade in my stupid science course I had to take.
It was one of my weaker subjects, and I’d put it off as long as I could.
I didn’t want to ask, but I needed to know. I cut in when the wide receivers coach drew in a breath, pausing from his lecture. “I’ll do anything you ask, but am I still starting in the game this weekend?”
Coach Mack’s beady eyes narrowed further, judging my sincerity and commitment. He gave a curt nod. “So long as you set up tutoring for Monday night.”
My lungs expanded as air whooshed in on the news, and I took my first full breath since he’d started talking. “Yeah, of course. I’ll go to the athletic center after practice.”
“No. Not this time. You’ll be coming in late to address your less-than-stellar grade and will need extra help, which means, after Coach Becket got involved, the academic advisor set up sessions with Professor White’s TA. Check in with them to find out where you’re supposed to be Monday night.”
I would agree to anything so long as it meant I could keep playing. Especially since the head coach had gotten personally involved in setting up my tutor. “I’m on it.”
“Cartwright.” Coach Mack’s glare intensified. “You get one chance. Don’t fuck it up. If I hear you missed a single session with the new tutor or your grades haven’t improved, Jackson will take your starting position, and you’ll ride the bench.”
“I hear you, Coach. You won’t be disappointed.” I promised, all too aware of what was at stake.
T he atmosphere in the stadium for Saturday’s game against Iowa was electric as it raced over my skin and fueled me to push harder, run faster, and be better than every one of our opponents who stood in the way of the job I needed to do.
I loved it—lived for it. It was my destiny, and I wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of establishing myself and attaining my goals.
It was a crucial game, and I could feel the scouts’ eyes on me from the stands as they watched, clipboards in hand. I glanced to the sideline where Skye snapped pictures. Our eyes met for a moment, and a surge of determination flooded my already-pumped-up blood.
Every time I lined up for the next play, my eyes flicked to the sidelines. She was there, camera in hand, oblivious to how much space she still occupied in my head. I shook it off. Football first. Everything else could wait.
We lined up at the forty-yard line in Iowa’s territory, the tension palpable. The formation was tight—two wide receivers, including myself; Ares, our star tight end, pulled in close; and a running back.
The home crowd roared, but we were in the zone. Kylian called what I knew would be the game play. We were locked in. The ball was snapped. Kylian caught it, scanning the field as I split off to the right, drawing the defenders away from Ares.
Everything unfolded in a flash. Kylian dropped back, eyes sweeping for options.
The defense closed in fast, but our QB1 was calm under pressure.
His gaze locked onto Ares, sprinting five yards out.
With a flick of his wrist, the ball was out of his hands, spiraling toward Ares, who snatched it out of the air.
Double-teaming in anticipation of a pass to me, the defenders dropped away, changing directions to intercept Ares.
I lowered my shoulder, ramming into the chest of the closest one to clear the way.
Ares twisted and tossed the ball in an underhanded backward pass to Jackson right before a giant lineman took Ares down.
I raced alongside Jackson, working to clear a path for the touchdown.
We made it to the twenty-yard line. Out of nowhere, a safety zeroed in, taking Jackson down hard.
Before hitting the ground, he lobbed the ball back over his shoulder just a few feet behind him.
The timing was perfect as I snatched it out of the air and charged ahead.
Tucking the ball, I turned on the speed.
Cleats digging in, I barreled past an Iowa defender, fighting for every inch.
The defense was caught off guard and scrambled, but it was too late.
I wove through the defense like lightning.
Fifteen yards, ten, five. The defensive backs chased in vain as I sprinted to the end zone.
The crowd erupted as I crossed the line untouched for a touchdown.
Up by six points, I tossed the ball to the ref and returned to my team. Despite the beautifully executed play that was a piece of football magic, we weren’t done, leaving the opposing team stunned and the Fall Lake crowd roaring with approval. We’d just pulled off something spectacular.
We lined up, going for the two-point conversion with seconds left in the game.
Determination buzzed through our line. The ball was snapped, and I dodged a lineman in a perfect hole Ares created.
Once in the end zone, I faked out a defensive end then turned, catching Kylian’s eye, making myself an option.
He launched the ball. I jumped, stretching my arm up.
In a one-handed catch, I came down inbounds a second before the ref blew the whistle, signaling the end of the game.
As the team and our fans cheered, I scanned the sideline until I found Skye in the chaos. I wove through my teammates and the crowd until I stood in front of her on the packed sideline. She stood, slinging her gear bag over her shoulder, and I racked my brain for something to say.
“Great posts on socials.” My voice came out softer than I intended.
She looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks. You guys have given me some great shots to work with.”
Silence settled heavily, charging the air between us with years of unspoken words hanging in the balance. A shadow fell across her, breaking the spell and causing me to tear my gaze from hers.
“Ready to go, Skye?” Maverick’s tone was casual, but his eyes held a challenge as he looked at me.
“Didn’t know you two were still so close.” I kept my voice and facial expression neutral.
Skye glanced between us, her brow furrowing. “Mav’s always been there for me.”
I clenched my jaw as they walked away. That scar on my cheek burned, a reminder of the fight that had changed everything. He’d gotten in the way back then, and it looked like he still was. But I wasn’t backing down. “Guess some things never change.”
Mav glanced over his shoulder, paused, and smiled faintly but without humor. “Yeah. Some things don’t.” Before Mav turned to leave with Skye, his voice carried low enough for only me to hear. “You’re not as smart as you think, Cartwright. And if you don’t figure it out soon, someone else will.”
She’d moved on—Mav made that clear. But the way she avoided my questions, the flicker of panic in her eyes? It didn’t add up. Skye was hiding something, and I wouldn’t let it go.