Maybe it helped, having Ava around, even for a short period of time. He needs that girl more than anything else. It’s like she recharges him.
We win the coin toss before the game starts and choose to kick. Meaning, we kick off and will be on defense. This also means I go out first, along with the rest of the defensive line.
Shi-it.
I run out onto the field and get into position, ready to block some weenie-ass Rebels. Once the ball is in the air, I’m running like a motherfucker, alternating between two dudes trying to block them. They curse at me as I turn, the ball spiraling straight toward us.
Holy shit, straight toward me.
The QB threw it too short, and the ball somehow lands in my hands. For a split second I don’t move. It’s as if I’m frozen, unsure of what to do next.
Until I hear one of my teammates scream, “RUN!”
I launch into gear, sprinting across the field, the ball tucked against my body. I’m running, my feet pounding on the ground, the announcers sounding excited as they call my number. My name. People are cheering me on. They’re actually chanting my last name.
“Go Burke, go! Go Burke, go!”
I pick up my stride, chancing a glance over my shoulder. Two Rebels are charging after me and I face forward once more, gaining yardage, the end zone drawing closer and closer.
Until I’m crossing it. The nearby referee throws up his arms in the universal sign.
“Touchdown Bulldogs!”
Everyone comes running toward me, Eli leading the pack. He slaps the back of my helmet and pulls me in for a quick hug, screaming, “Fucking showoff!”
I grin. Laugh. I can’t help it. I’ve never done something like that before. Made such a great play.
It feels fucking amazing.
And thank Christ for that first play interception because the Rebels give us a run for it the entire first half. For every touchdown we make, they do the same. Until they’re actually leading us by one touchdown at the end of the second quarter.
Damn it.
“I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but none of you—not a single one of you—are playing like shit,” Coach announces in the locker room at halftime. “You’re all bringing your best out onto that goddamn field. It’s just that those damn Rebels are on their home turf and they’re our equals. And right now, they’re better than us.”
We all sit quietly, dejected. Even after the most amazing play of my life—damn I hope my dad saw that—I feel down and out.
“So gather up some steam boys, and play your fucking hearts out during the second half. Show those Rebels what you’ve got. They play hard? You play harder. They run fast? You run faster. They hit you? You demolish them. And Bennett, throw that fucking ball as if your life depends on it. As if your girlfriend says she’s going to quit sucking your dick forever if you don’t win this fuckin’ game,” Coach says, his voice rising.
“You got it, Coach!” Eli yells amid a few chuckles.
“Burke!” Coach points at me and I sit up straighter. “That was a miracle run during that first play, kid. Nicely done. I’d ask you to do it again, but magic like that doesn’t happen twice in a single game.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, pleased as fuck. I never get called out for doing something good in the locker room. Or at practice. Hell, anytime. I’m just another grunt on the defensive line who blocks. I haven’t caught an interception since my junior year in high school.
Here I am four years later, doing it again my junior year in college.
“What the hell, man? That was awesome,” Diego says when he approaches me after Coach’s speech. “Sorry I gave you shit before the game started. You put all that nervous energy to good use.”
“Thanks, man.” We perform our usual elaborate handshake. Diego doesn’t hand out compliments easily. They have to be earned in his eyes, so it feels good, hearing his praise. And his apology. “I don’t even know how that happened.”
“Right place, right time,” Tony says as he comes up to us. “Lucky fucker.”
He says that last bit with a grin, making us laugh.
“More like fast fucker,” Eli adds when he joins us. “You set the tone for the game, bro.”
I get real serious, real quick. “I want to win this game.”
“Me too,” Diego says, his tone grim.
“We will,” Tony says with all that quiet confidence of his.
“Then let’s fucking do it!” Eli shouts.
We head back out onto the football field, the entire team quiet. Solemn. I sit out the first part of the third quarter, the defensive coach replacing me with someone else. A fast, big kid who’s a sophomore and not afraid to take a hit. They’re saving me up and letting me rest for a little bit longer. Coach is worried I burned myself out on that first play, but I am still a bundle of energy, my knee bouncing as I sit on the bench, making the entire thing rattle and earning glares from all my teammates sitting on the bench with me.
I leap to my feet and start pacing behind the bench, unable to stay still. I want back out on the field, but I’m also pleased we kept them from scoring that go around. I offer up high fives to the defense as they all jog off the field, my heart in my throat as Eli and the rest of the offense run out and get into position.
Thank Christ, they score.
And we keep on scoring. Until we’re in the lead by only one touchdown.
The back and forth is killing me—killing everyone in the stands too. Frustration ripples throughout the stadium, and I know everyone in this place just wants to win.
Including myself, of course.
When they finally let me back out onto the field, I’m ready. My blood is pumping hot, and I settle into position opposite the Rebels’ offensive line, glaring at them from behind my helmet. They glare back, one of them sneering. Another one cursing at me under his breath.
I just grin. Bring on the hatred, boys. It’ll just blind you to my fast moves.
I lunge for them, knocking heads, but I shake it off. We get back into position once again and this time, I run, trying my damnedest to block so they don’t catch the ball. I turn, my gaze on the sky, searching for the ball when I spot it.
Miracle of all miracles, it’s heading straight for me.
The announcer sounds like he’s having a coronary as he gives his play by play. I can hear the crowd screaming. One half wants me to catch it. The other half wants me to miss. I pick up the pace, the blood roaring in my ears as I put my hands out, ready to catch.
I’m going so damn fast, I trip over my own damn foot, my entire body leaning to the side. I right myself, turning so I can run backwards.
That’s why I don’t see it. I hear the warning of the crowd right before it happens.
Right before I plow into a Rebel who’s coming for me headfirst.
And I’m plunged into darkness.
Thirty-One
Gracie
Allegiant Stadium is huge. Gorgeous. Since the stadium is brand-new, everything is sleek and gleaming and beautiful. Black and white and silver everywhere, since this is also the Las Vegas Raiders’ stadium and UNLV gets to play here.
I’m in awe as we walk through the stadium, past the shops and the restaurants and the one bar that looks like a freaking nightclub on the strip. I’ve been to Levi Stadium—my family is Niner fans, which means we are definitely not Raider fans—and I can’t help but be impressed by how beautiful this place is.
The suite we’re watching the game in is, of course, beautiful. I don’t know how Jackson and Ellie managed to get us in here exactly, but I’m not asking any questions. Instead, I’m enjoying the food and drinks, talking with new people and staking out my seat to watch the game.
We’re up high, above everyone else, and there are big screen TVs everywhere, but I want my eyes on that field. For some reason, I’m nervous about the game, and I never am. More like I get all amped up and enjoy cheering on Caleb and the rest of the team. They haven’t had the best season, but they’ve
held their own and Caleb has played a lot.
It’s been fun to watch. Even more fun to know it’s my man out there playing.
My skin grows warm and my heart expands. Look at me. My man. I’m obnoxious. But just in my thoughts so that’s not so bad.
“Best seats in the house,” Hayden proclaims as she settles into the chair right next to mine, both of us in the front row of seats, right in front of the suite’s wall to ceiling window.
“They’ve got better seats down there on the fifty-yard line,” Jackson says as he settles in next to me, a grin on his handsome face.
“I beg to differ,” Hayden says, her tone faintly snotty, not that she means anything by it. “I’m content sitting up here in the air-conditioned comforts of this lovely suite.”
“It’s pretty damn fancy, huh?” Jackson looks around before returning his gaze to us. “Your boys have a lot on the line today. They need this win.”
“Do you miss playing?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “A little. Sometimes. Mostly no. I play to different crowds now.”
“And you do it magnificently too,” Ellie says as she hands him a plate full of food. She settles into the empty seat next to his. “At least he can’t get hurt on stage.”
“Oh, I could get hurt,” he says, earning a dirty look from Ellie. “I could get electrocuted. I could trip and fall. Knock myself out.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s riskier on the football field. So many injuries.”
Her dire tone instills a fear in me I’ve never felt before. She’s right. Football is a dangerous sport, and considering Caleb plays defense, he puts himself more at risk than a lot of other players.
I don’t like that.
At all.
I forget all about potential injuries when the game starts and Caleb intercepts the Rebels’ ball, running it in for a touchdown. I leap to my feet the moment he’s barreling down the field, that ball tucked against his side as he speeds across the turf. Two Rebels trail after him but he’s so fast, no way they can catch him.
“Go, baby, go!” I’m screaming, hopping up and down, Hayden right next to me. We hug when he gets the touchdown, and I swear to God, it feels like I just did that myself. “Did you see him?”
“He’s amazing,” Hayden readily agrees.
I’m on a fluffy cloud for the first half of the game. Despite the fact that the teams are so evenly matched and they keep up with each other’s score, I’m not worried. I firmly believe our boys have got this.
I’m feeling even more confident midway through the third quarter. We’re finally leading, and Caleb has yet to hit the field, which I’m okay with. They’re either saving him for later, or they’ve determined he can’t play any more for the rest of the game.
These are the moments that frustrate me. When I can’t communicate with him and I don’t know what’s going on. I want to know why he isn’t playing. Is he all right? Is he injured? Or is this no big deal and I’m making something out of nothing?
I lean in close to Jackson and ask, “Why aren’t they playing Caleb?”
“They might be letting him rest. They’re keeping up, and now we’re in the lead, so whatever they’re doing, it’s working,” Jackson explains.
“I just hope he’s all right,” I say, worry coursing through me.
“He’s fine,” Hayden reassures. “You know him. He’s tough.”
“Fearless,” Jackson adds.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter.
When I see number 78 run out onto the field, my heart seizes up and I lean forward in my seat. He’s back in play. I bring my hand to my mouth and start chewing on my nails—a bad habit I quit years ago but only reappears when I’m super nervous.
Why am I nervous? This is no different than any other game I’ve watched this season, and I’ve never felt this way before. Is it because I know Caleb and I need to talk? Am I worried how he might react when he finds out I’m here?
Maybe…
He starts running, trying to block the other team, and I rise to my feet, my gaze trained on him and no one else. He turns, running backward, and all the air gathers in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I see the other guy just before it happens. Caleb leans right, his long body looking as if he’s in mid-air.
Just before he collides with the other guy and they both crumple to the ground.
“Oh God!” I step forward, pressing my shaky fingers against the glass as I watch Caleb lying motionless on the field.
Hayden is immediately by my side, her hand on my shoulder as we both silently watch. The announcer says something, but it’s garbled in my ears and the next thing I know, a coach is running out to check on Caleb, who is still lying there.
Not moving.
The other player sits up, and the crowd roars their approval.
“Looks like he’s going to be all right,” the announcer says.
I press my lips together, praying for my baby to be okay. He’s so big. Larger than life with the personality to match. He always acts as if he’s untouchable, doing reckless, crazy shit that’s made my heart stop more than once.
Right now, it doesn’t even feel as if my heart is beating. I’m completely still, my fingers pressed to the glass, my lungs frozen as I wait for some sign of life from Caleb.
Their coach is crouched on the ground next to him. Someone else from the coaching staff runs out onto the field to join him, and the announcer is talking about Caleb. Identifying who he is.
“Number seventy-eight also made that fantastic interception at the beginning of the first quarter. Caleb Burke has been with the Bulldogs for three seasons…”
I tune him out, watching as the coaches work over Caleb. Was he knocked unconscious? Is he awake? They’re not moving him, which tells me they’re afraid to in case of a head or spinal cord injury…
My heart lurches as if there’s a chokehold on it and I part my lips, trying to speak, but no words are coming.
Oh God.
“He’s going to be okay,” Jackson says as he walks over to the window to stand beside me.
I turn to him blindly and he pulls me into his arms, offering me brief comfort. It’s not the right man holding me, but Jackson will do for now. “Can you text or call someone?” I ask when I pull away from him. “Any of the coaching staff?”
“They don’t usually pay attention to their phones during a game, but I can try. I have a couple of numbers still stored in my phone,” he says.
All of a sudden, the crowd roars and I turn back to the window to see Caleb sitting up, his helmet off, his hair a disaster, sticking up everywhere. I rest my hand against my throat, struggling to breathe, tears springing to the corners of my eyes as I stare at him.
He’s okay.
He’s okay.
It all happens very quickly after Caleb sits up. A couple of referees join the small crowd gathered around him, and you can tell they’re all talking to him. A doctor rushes out, carrying a bag with him and he pushes past them so he can solely concentrate on Caleb.
I wish I was out there with him. I wish I could give him comfort and say all the right things, but I’m stuck up here in a gorgeous suite with all the food and booze I could ever want, utterly helpless.
They fuss around him for a little bit but I can tell he’s waving them off. Slowly, he stands, then lifts his arm in a wave, turning completely around so everyone can see him. There’s a smile on his face, I can tell even from this distance, and the announcer sounds excited as he says, “Looks like Burke is going to be all right!”
Everyone cheers.
He walks off the field unassisted and I sag into my seat, practically falling into it, closing my eyes against the emotion that threatens to overwhelm me.
“I knew something bad was going to happen,” I murmur to no one in particular. “I could feel it.”
“He’s fine,” Hayden says reassuringly. “He’s going to be fine.”
“If he’s walking and t
alking, he’s definitely going to be okay,” Jackson says firmly.
“At least you weren’t paying attention to the TV screens,” Ellie says with a mock shudder. “They kept showing the replay of when Caleb and that guy collided. It was kind of awful.”
Oh yes. Thank God I wasn’t watching. That probably would’ve sent me straight over the edge.
Once the game is over—and holy shit they lost, talk about devastating—we all make our way down to the field. Or at least, we try to. Security refuses to let us on, despite my yelling at him that I’m Caleb Burke’s girlfriend.
“Oh, now you call yourself that,” Ellie teases when I turn away in frustration from the security guards.
“Shut up,” I tell her mildly, making her giggle.
It’s Jackson who gets us out there, with his usual charm and a casual mention of his name—which they all recognize. Oh, and that he used to play for the Bulldogs too. He slaps the security guards’ hands as they let us out onto the field, and I’m off like a shot, my gaze searching for him, hoping I can find him.
But the field is so big, and there are so many people. I spot Eli, looking dejected as he speaks with a reporter. I’m tempted to go comfort him. He’s become a good friend. Living with him the past few months has brought us all closer, and I kind of love that guy.
He’s not the one I’m looking for though. That’s the guy I’m totally in love with.
Caleb.
I finally find him after long, agonizing minutes of searching. He’s talking with a reporter as well. A cute blonde who’s standing terribly close to him, her mic shoved in his face. He’s got a faint smile on his face and weariness shows around his eyes. She’s telling him he’ll get the play of the week for her network, and he laughs, looking pleased.
I kind of want to rip her hair out, jealous shrew that I suddenly am.
She wraps up the interview but keeps talking to him, and I can see the way the light in his eyes dims. He’s not interested, though she’s clearly flirting with him. Straightening my shoulders, I head toward them, almost laughing when I see the double take Caleb gives me.
The Junior (College Years Book 3) Page 27