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He clapped me on the back, and I felt a surge of adrenaline fill the hole that had been gnawing at my gut. I got to give it my all by playing for my team, and not for Frank Delaney. That was something I could work with. I didn’t care if the play circled around me or not, as long as it got us somewhere. That was what the game was about.

The game didn’t care about who played or where the money came from. It cared about who won and what it meant for them.

“I’m in,” I said again, finding my confidence.

“Then get your ass dressed and stop killing my nerves.”

*

When I walked onto that field for the third quarter, the crowd went ballistic. They reminded me of who I was and why I was there, giving me the boost I needed. So when we lined up for the kickoff, I was pumped, even though the scoreboard was mocking us. Ethan received the ball and tried to hand it off to me, but it went wide.

I cut left and got back, but there were two defenders hot on my heels. I managed to run past them and earn us a touchdown as well as our first points in the game. We prepared for the extra point, but a defender rushed in after Cam lined up to drop the kick, leaving the scoreboard at 6-14.

For the fourth quarter, Ethan was fed up with getting beaten down and decided to change tactics. He passed the ball to Lucas. And he got just short of the ten before being pummeled into the turf.

“Do a blitz!” Coach called as we reset.

The Seahawks nearly missed Ethan, but they planted him just as he let go of the ball. I caught it in the nick of time, but only made it two yards before a defender bashed into my side. A dull electrical sensation shot down from my shoulder, but there didn’t seem to be any actual damage, so I got back up and we reset.

With minutes left on the board, Ethan called a play we had never practiced together before. “I want to do a running toss to the right. Be prepared and go long.”

I thought I understood what he wanted, so I nodded and took my position, but I wasn’t ready for what I was getting myself into. We had a snap, and Ethan used all his strength to toss the ball. Using all I had left, I sprinted, hoping I would get there in time. With a smooth leap, I got into the air. My fingers tightened around the ball, and as I fell back down, a defender shoved his arm out and hit me square in the chest.

The air rushed from my lungs, and my body spun through a full circle. The whistle blew as I fell out of the sideline and the ball jumped out of my grasp. I tried reaching for it, but then I heard a pop and a flaming hot liquid sensation spread from my shoulder all the way down my arm.

“Coach,” I whispered, but when I opened my eyes, he wasn’t the one I saw.

Tara was crouched next to me, and I had never seen her looking so concerned. She pressed an ice pack to my shoulder, and I tried to scream, but no words came out.

29

Dakota

It felt like an eternity since they’d wheeled Trace in. The sterile hallway in front of the med bay felt like a tomb. I was overcome with a fear I couldn’t name, my mind replaying the sight of him hitting the turf over and over again. It had been ages, and we hadn’t heard anything from Tara about his condition.

But I wasn’t alone in the dark. A few of the Highlanders were gathered in the hallway like a pack of wounded wolves, and I was the easy target.

“Don’t you have a deadline to meet?” Cam spat, pacing the narrow corridor. “He could be half-dead in there, and you’re already drafting the lead for his obituary.”

“Yeah,” Lucas added, stepping into my line of sight to block my view of the bay. “This kind of blows your corrupt athlete narrative out of the water, doesn’t it? Hard to be a villain when you’re on a stretcher. Why are you even here, Dakota?”

The heat rose in my cheeks, and I adjusted the strap of my bag, my knuckles white. “I’m here because it’s a public hallway, Lucas. And last I checked, I don’t need a jersey to stand in one.”

“Are you trying to get the inside scoop?” Malik scoffed. Malik—the guy everyone called the Teddy Bear of Havenport—looked at me with a coldness that made my skin crawl. “Trying to capitalize on the blood so you can make us look like fools again?”

“I’m not on the job,” I snapped, my voice steady despite the roar in my ears. “But you guys were, and you fucked up. What was happening on the offensive line that let him get sacked like that?”

The air in the hallway turned electric. Dylan pushed away from the wall, his massive frame looming over me. “You vultures are the reason people hate this game. You take our injuries and turn them into outlines for smear pieces. You ruin relationships, you poison the campus, and you do it without flinching. You know the damage you’re causing, and you don’t give a shit.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “I bet you’d throw your own mother under a bus if it gave you a better twist for your column.”

That one stung. A grating needle of truth piercing my armor. But I didn’t let it show. I tilted my chin up, meeting his glare with every bit of the ruthless reputation they’d given me.

“You think I like this?” I asked, my voice low and lethal. “You think I enjoy watching a guy I— watching a player get broken in half because you guys couldn’t hold a block? If you spent half as much time practicing as you do rehearsing these pathetic vulture monologues, maybe Trace wouldn’t be in there right now.”

“You should leave,” Malik said, stepping forward. The venom in his voice was a physical weight. “Before things get ugly.”

“Is that a threat?” I seethed. “Because I’m pretty sure the Dean would love to hear about the player who’s threatening a student reporter.”