The Trouble With You by L. A. Cotton

Author:L. A. Cotton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Delesty Books

Cameron

The roar of the crowd was deafening. It had been for the entire game, which turned out to be brutal, just as everyone expected. The Eagles scored a touchdown, we scored one back; they sacked our QB, we took Thatcher down twice as hard. We were exhausted; mentally and physically broken, and despite outplaying them, the Eagles were leading by five. But we were fourth and goal, with eleven seconds left on the clock, which meant we had time for one final play.

And we needed it to count.

“Time,” Coach yelled across the field and we moved in for his instructions. “Okay,” he said. “They’ve got us pinned down, I know that. You know that. But this game should have been ours coming into the second half. Jase, what are you thinking, Son?”

We all looked to our QB and captain, hardly surprised Coach was letting him take control. He trusted Jase explicitly. We all did.

“We should run the Red 59 Counter Arrow,” he said calmly, despite the fire in his eyes. He didn’t just want this win, he needed it.

“Fourteen?” Coach locked eyes with me. “You ready for this?”

“I’ve got it.” I nodded.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now get out there and take care of business. Raiders on one.”

Our battle cry rippled across the field, fueling us. Giving us the strength we needed for one final play.

“You ready?” Jase jogged over to me.

“Let’s end them.” Understanding passed between us as he offered me a rare smile.

“Go get ‘em, bro.”

We all moved into position behind the line of scrimmage, waiting for Jase’s call. He reeled off the play before signaling, “Hut.” Grady, our center, snapped the ball to him and he faked left. I took off, pushing past the safety. My best friend dropped back, hiked up his arm and let the ball fly, straight toward the end zone and my destination. I pumped my legs hard, running faster than I’d ever run in my life. We had to win, I had to get my hands on that ball.

It wasn’t just about football, it was about Hailee. About wiping the smug grin off Thatcher’s face when we beat them. But it was moving fast, too fast. Shit. In a risky move, I pushed off the ground and lunged forward, stretching my fingers until I felt my muscles rip, pain pinging through my shoulder. But it paid off as I felt the familiar smooth leather graze my fingers.

“Touchdown,” the announcer yelled as my body collided with the hard ground. The crowd went wild as I lay there, staring up at the lights. My muscles hurt and my lungs burned, and I was pretty sure I’d pulled something, but it didn’t matter. We’d done it.

I’d done it.

Jase and Ash were first to reach me, pulling me to my feet and then the rest of the guys were on us, jostling us around like we’d won the Championship game. But Jase wasn’t celebrating with us, he was staring across the field, his eyes set right on Thatcher.

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