Touchback: A Quarterback Secret Romance (A Scott Family Novel Book 1) by Dawna Raver

Author:Dawna Raver [Raver, Dawna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Jett

Late August,

Third Week of Preseason

I dropped back in the pocket, my fingers gripping the ball between the laces, looking downfield for Jacobs, our supposed grade-A receiver.

Our practice team was all over his ass, and from my vantage point, he wasn’t exactly motivated to break free so I could throw the ball into Jacob’s waiting hands.

The Tennessee sun blazed down, making me feel like I was melting. The asshole had me dancing around the entire practice field, and I swear every time I pulled my arm back to throw the ball and connect with him, he’d move out of reach. Practice was supposed to be to a place to hone your skills and work on team dynamics. Jacobs and I had no chemistry, and I was over it. I was hot, thirsty, and sweating like a pig.

“Jacobs, what the fuck is the deal? We’ll never find a rhythm if you don’t watch my cues,” I yelled, spiking the ball hard enough to cause it to bounce back up, almost hitting Ronnell.

“I’m not the issue. You’re all over the place.” Jacobs ran across the field at breakneck speed, suddenly finding my location and his lost motivation.

I yanked off my helmet and waited for Jacobs to reach me. “If it’s my issue, then explain why I hit Frazier on every throw yesterday? You can’t seem to get into position, let alone catch the easiest of passes.”

Jamie Frazier and I had a great practice yesterday, and I was pulling for the undrafted rookie to make the team.

“Amazing considering your nose is so far up Thatch’s ass you can see what he ate for breakfast,” Jacobs said, getting in my face and going toe-to-toe with me. “Face it, Taylor. You’re a washed-up college quarterback who will never amount to more than a bench rider.”

I didn’t know if it was the hot sun and my need for a cold shower, or his arrogant attitude that lead to my next decision. Or maybe it was hearing from other players how Jacobs was constantly talking in explicit detail about wanting to fuck Johannah. Whatever it was, I hauled off and punched Jacobs square in his pretty boy face, breaking his nose. I’d like to say I harbored a small amount of remorse, but I had none.

“You broke my nose,” Jacobs whined, trying to come after me as I walked backwards off the field. But my O-line boys had my back, and right now they were holding Jacobs steady so he couldn’t follow. Truth be told, the entire team was over Brian Jacobs’ lack of teamwork. But more than that, they adored Johannah, and he’d crossed one too many lines by talking about our veteran QB’s daughter as if she was nothing but easy pussy.

She belonged to me, even if no one knew it.

“You’re dead meat, Taylor. You hear me? Dead meat,” Jacobs yelled as I left the field, flying both middle fingers high and proud.

Later that afternoon, I sat with Thatch in Coach Hansen’s office.

“So, Jett,” Hansen began, “I hear we have a problem.

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