Rixon Raiders: The Collection

by L A Cotton

  Asher and Cameron began to jog back to our team, but I couldn’t resist glancing over my shoulder. Number twenty-three was jogging backward, his eyes fixed right on me, and even through his helmet, I didn’t miss the words he mouthed.

  Thatcher sends his love.

  “Run, run,” the whole crowd seemed to echo my words as Cameron took off with the ball, ducking and dodging the sea of orange and black players racing toward him.

  “Motherfucker,” I roared as he got tackled by a huge defensive end, his body slamming against the ground with a resounding thud. Right outside the end zone as well.

  “They’re all over us,” Grady jogged over to me as we walked off field.

  He wasn’t wrong but I didn’t want to admit it. Millington had brought their A-game and if we didn’t turn it around soon our 21-18 lead was going to disappear down the drain.

  I clapped him on his shoulder before cutting a path toward Merrick, one of our best defensive players. “Make them pay,” I said, pulling his helmet to mine. “I refuse to lose to this bunch of pussies. You feel me?”

  “I feel you, QB.” His eyes sparked with hunger.

  “Go get ‘em.”

  Watching as our defense lined up at the scrimmage, Coach Hasson came up to me. “What the hell is happening out there? They got you spooked or something?”

  I couldn’t tell him that Thatcher’s cousin, number twenty-three, was making it virtually impossible for me. He’d talked shit most of the game, pushing me, taunting me, trying to get me to take the bait. I hadn’t... yet, because I knew Coach would rip me a new one. But I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take.

  “Defense will take care of it,” I grunted, watching as the Millington’s QB called the play. He was cocky; a real showman, preferring to keep the ball and run than use his players and pass.

  Sure enough, he faked the pass, rolled around to the left and took off downfield... right into the awaiting arms of our cornerback. Their bodies fell hard, the referee rushing over to the huddle already forming around them. But it was our player with the ball.

  “Thank fuck.” Clapping my hands, I yanked on my helmet, ready to get back out there.

  “This is the one,” Coach yelled, and my eyes flicked to the clock. There was time for one more play; two if we were lucky. We had to score; anything less and we risked giving Millington the chance to flip the game.

  Giving Coach a nod, I jogged over to my teammates. “This is it. The play that ends these motherfuckers. Fourteen,” my eyes found Cam across the huddle. “You get to sit this one out. We’re going to run Blue Right Fourteen Reverse.”

  “But, Jase…” someone started, but I held up my hand.

  “We go with the play, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  It was a risk—not using Cameron—but you didn’t make miracles happen by playing it safe, and we needed to hit Millington where they least expected it.

  “Raiders on three.” I shoved my fist into the center of the huddle, waiting for the other ten fists to follow. “One, two, three.”

  Our battle cry rang out around us, the crowd’s roar igniting a firestorm inside me. They believed in us, in me, cheering us on until the bitter end. And we were about to give them the victory they deserved.

  That we deserved.

  Millington stepped up to the scrimmage, eyes hard, jaws set. They were the predators now, and we were the prey. But first they’d have to catch us.

  “Blue Fourteen, Blue Fourteen, hut.” The ball snapped to me and I caught it with nothing more than muscle memory. Dropping back, I extended my arm ready to hand-off the ball to my running back. He barreled past me and took off, as I darted right, ball cradled in my arm, head down. The fake play had given me the time I needed to gain yards, but it didn’t take long for the Tigers’ defense to realize I had the ball. They barreled toward me like a runaway train. I pushed harder, my muscles pinging with exertion, the air whooshing around my helmet as I kept running.

  “Go, GO! The entire stadium seemed to yell, propelling me forward. Giving me the strength I needed to make one final push.

  Someone reached for me and I leaped to the side, the thud of their body hitting the ground behind me reverberating in my ears.

  Fifteen yards… ten… five. I was so close. So fucking close I could already hear the echo of ‘touchdown’ ringing in my ears. But a Millington player appeared out of nowhere slamming straight into me, the ball fumbling out of my hands. “Fuck,” I grunted, the ground beneath me breaking my fall.

  “That one’s for Thatcher.” Twenty-three came down hard on me. His elbow—or was it a fist—clipping my ribs with purpose. Once. Twice… Pain splintered through my side.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I sneered, pushing him off. He rolled away, clambering to his feet. The second I was upright, I got up in his face, barely aware of the game still going on around us. “What the hell was that?”

  Dead Man Walking had the balls to smirk.

  “Oh, you think this is funny. You piece of shit.” I lunged for him just as the announcer called, “Touuuuuuchdown.”

  “FORD, GET THE HELL OVER HERE NOW,” Coach Hasson barked just as my hand twisted into twenty-three’s jersey.

  “Better run, bitch b—”

  Yanking him forward, I smashed my helmet against his. “Tell Thatcher if he wants me, to come get me. He knows where to find me.” Anger radiated through me and when a hand landed on my shoulder, my head whipped around so quickly I got whiplash.

  “Let him go, man,” Cam said coolly. “He isn’t worth it.”

  “How’s your girl, Chase?” Twenty-three wore a shit-eating smirk. “When you’re done with her, let me know. I wouldn’t mind taking her for a—”

  Cameron barreled me out of the way and tackled him, the two of them crashing to the ground. Suddenly we were swarmed by a sea of orange and black, blue and white, players pushing and shoving while Cameron wailed on twenty-three. His helmet was off now, Cam’s too.

  “Raiders, get the hell over to the sideline, NOW!” Coach grabbed my shoulder. “Rein your players in, Captain.” His voice was icy cold. Enough that it snapped me out of the red mist, and I started pushing my teammates away.

  “Go, get over there.” I flicked my head to the sideline where the remainder of our team was gathered.

  “Let’s go, Chase.” Coach and one of Millington’s coaches pulled Cam off Thatcher’s cousin; Coach Hasson handling my best friend while their coach helped his player to his feet.

  “Coach, it wasn’t—” I started, but he levelled me with a glare that said, ‘shut the hell up’.

  “We’ll deal with this once we’re in the locker room. Get in there and wait for me, you hear me?” Disappointment dripped from his words, sitting heavy on my chest.

  I slung an arm around Cam’s shoulder, but he shrugged me off, storming away. “Motherfucker.” I threw my helmet down and kicked it, sending it flying into the water table.

  “Ford!” one of the coaches yelled, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even look back as I followed the rest of our team into the tunnel. We’d gotten the victory. But it had ended in a shitshow.

  All because of Lewis fucking Thatcher.

  Chapter Seven

  Felicity

  Coach Hasson’s voice echoed through the doors. He wasn’t just pissed about what had just happened, he was furious.

  “Maybe we should go?” I winced, as his tirade continued, eyeing Hailee as she paced outside the team’s locker room like a caged animal. We weren’t supposed to be back here but being the star quarterback’s step-sister and star wide receiver’s girlfriend swayed the security guy’s decision to let us wait.

  “You can go if you want to,” she said, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other bent so that she could chew her thumb, “but I’m not leaving until I know Cameron’s okay.”

  “Okay.” I went to her. “We’ll stay.”

  “I still can’t believe he did that.” Silence settled over us, but it didn’t last l
ong when a couple of minutes later, the door swung open and the team started filing out.

  Joel Mackey noticed us first. “You better get in there, Hailee.” He grimaced. “Your boy is in a bad way.”

  The blood drained from her face as she looked to me. “Can you... I mean...”

  “Hailee,” Jason’s voice cut the air like a knife.

  She rushed over to him. “Is he okay? What did Coach say? Is he hurt?” The questions spewed out of her and Jason looked completely out of his depth.

  Dragging a hand down his face, he took a deep breath. “Cam needs you,” was all he said, flicking his head to the door. “You should go be with him.”

  Her glassy gaze settled on me and I smiled. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

  “Fear not, Hails.” Asher appeared, making a beeline for me. “We’ll make sure she gets home okay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Go, he needs you.”

  She gave me an appreciative smile before turning it on Jason. “Thank you,” she mouthed before disappearing inside.

  “Will Coach—”

  “She doesn’t need to worry about Coach,” Jason said as he shouldered past Asher and disappeared down the tunnel.

  “Come on.” Asher slung his bag over his shoulder and motioned his head in the direction of his teammate, sending water droplets spraying everywhere.

  “Asher,” I moaned, following after Jason. “Now I’m all wet.”

  “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

  I glanced over at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

  “Relax, Fee, baby, I’m joking.”

  “Oh, okay.” Embarrassment flamed my cheeks as we hurried after Jason.

  Outside, most of the crowd had already dispersed. A few of the guys hung around to take pictures and sign jerseys and balls and other game paraphernalia, but Jason didn’t stop for the die-hard fans. He didn’t even acknowledge them.

  “Go on ahead,” Asher said, “I’ll be right there.” He stopped to take a photo with a couple of kids who had their faces painted with the Raiders logo.

  When I reached Jason the words, “Where’s Asher’s Jeep?” fell from my lips.

  “I drove.”

  “Oh,” I said, eyeing his car.

  Jason kicked the gravel, sending a plume of dust into the air. Everything about him screamed ‘stay away’. A murderous expression. Waves of anger rippling off him. The way his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

  He was a nuclear bomb just waiting to detonate.

  And suddenly, I didn’t want to ride anywhere with them. Even if Hailee had driven us here and was now attending to Cameron’s needs.

  “Change of plan.” Asher sauntered up to us, his lip in a grim line. “My parents are on their... aaaaand here they are.” Headlights illuminated the three of us, and I glanced over to where his gaze was fixed.

  “They want to take me to dinner.”

  “They do?” My expression must have given me away because Asher chuckled.

  “Don’t look so worried, Jase can take you home. Can’t you, QB?”

  The guy in question grunted something inaudible.

  “I can walk,” I rushed out, wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “It’s not far.”

  “Fee, baby, just get in the damn car.” The words were for me, but Asher was looking at Jason, a silent message passing between them.

  “You should come to Bell’s later,” he finally turned his attention on me. “Drinks are on me.”

  “I don’t know,” I said quietly. “Maybe, if Hailee—”

  “Think about it.” He winked and gave Jase a two finger salute before heading toward his parents’ car.

  Silence lingered, swirling with Jason’s anger.

  “I’ll walk, you don’t—”

  “Get in the car,” he ground out.

  “Excuse me?” Indignation burned through me as I lifted a brow at him.

  “I said get in the fucking car.” He stomped around to the driver’s side and almost tore the door off its hinges before throwing himself inside and slamming it shut.

  I needed to leave. To put as much distance as possible between me and the brooding angry guy in the car. But there was something about his anger, the way he’d held back throughout the entire game. I’d watched him, even when I’d tried not to. Twenty-three had been all over him. But Jason hadn’t taken the bait. Even when they were both up in each other’s faces, he had maintained control. But something had changed when Cameron tried to intervene. And the only thing that tied Jason and Cameron together, except football, was Hailee.

  The window rolled down, startling me. “Last time, Giles,” his voice hit me straight in the stomach, “Get in the goddamn car.”

  Jason didn’t take me home. He didn’t even take me to his house, not that I’d expected him to ever do that. I didn’t. But I also didn’t expect him to take the road out of town and pull over by the lake. The sandy lot was quiet, nothing but the gentle rustle of leaves and my heart beating violently in my chest.

  “So...” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Nice view.” Risking a peek over at Jason, I was surprised to see the corner of his mouth lift.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “What did twenty-three say to Cameron?”

  “You noticed that, huh?”

  “I…” My lips pressed together, not wanting to admit I’d noticed everything.

  Brushing over my slip, he added, “You don’t want to know.”

  “Try me.”

  Twisting his body slightly, Jason pinned me to his leather seat with those dark intense eyes of his. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” His voice was cold. “She wasn’t supposed to—”

  “You think this is Hailee’s fault?” Incredulity filled my voice. “You spent the last six years treating her—”

  “I know.” Jason’s fingers jammed in his hair, tugging in frustration. “You think I don’t know that? Hailee was nothing to me, nothing, and now… now she’s in the middle of this thing with Thatcher and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how to...” He stopped himself, pain glittering in his eyes.

  “Care?” I whispered. “You don’t know how to care?”

  “I’m not the good guy here, Felicity. I want to win State, graduate high school, and get the fuck out of this town and go to college. That’s it. That’s my lot. And Thatcher is fucking everything up.” The sound of his fist colliding with the steering wheel reverberated through the car. There was barely any air before but now I could hardly breathe; Jason’s anger tangible.

  “I just need for it to stop. Just stop for a fucking second.” Head tipped back, he screwed his eyes shut, sucking in ragged breath after ragged breath.

  “I’m here, if you want to talk.” The words shattered the silence.

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Because I’m not popular? Because I don’t know what it’s like to be put on a pedestal by the entire town? You’re right,” I gave a little sigh, “I don’t know what it’s like. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what pressure feels like.”

  Jason’s eyes slid to mine, filled with a rare glimmer of vulnerability I knew not many people, if any, got to see. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe without the whole town watching.” Surprise flashed across his face, as if he couldn’t believe he’d said the words.

  I waited, hoping he’d give me more. Hoping he’d let me in. But his stone mask was already back in place.

  Jason was tortured. Over Hailee. Over his dad and her mom having an affair. His mom leaving. Carrying the weight of the team. The rivalry with Rixon East. It all sat squarely on his shoulders. And although I didn’t want to understand him, to try to figure out what went on inside of the head of Rixon’s prodigal son of football, part of me got it. Because although it wasn’t the same, although I didn’t have the pressure of an entire town rooting for me and
my future; I had my parents’ pressure. And sometimes that alone was almost too much to bear.

  “Sometimes, when it all gets too much, I make a list.” The words were out before I could stop them.

  “A list?” Jason snorted.

  “Yeah, it helps me process things.”

  “And these lists,” his voice was drenched in sarcasm, “What do you put on them?”

  “Anything really. Sometimes I use them to help me organize my life: to do lists, grocery store lists, homework lists—”

  “You have a list for homework.” His brow went up and then he smirked. “Of course you do. What else?”

  “Celebrities I’d like to date, books I want to read, that kind of thing.”

  “And your senior year bucket list?”

  “How did you...? Asher,” I groaned. “Asher told you.” I felt my cheeks burn.

  “Don’t worry. He didn’t tell me what’s on the list.”

  Because he didn’t know. He and Cameron had overheard me talking to Hailee about it once. But I refused to share the details, because, holy crap, that would be embarrassing.

  About as embarrassing as Jason asking me about it.

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “Why do you look so worried, Giles?” He leaned closer slightly, taking the air with him. “I’m not on the list, am I?”

  Oh no.

  He was doing it again. Looking at me like he wanted something.

  Something I knew I shouldn’t give him.

  “We should probably head back,” I said trying to keep my voice even. “It’s getting late and you’re meeting Asher at—”

  “Giles,” he said, sliding his hand along my collarbone and up my neck. His thumb stroking my pulse point. “Stop talking.”

  “But I—” The pad of his thumb moved against my lips, dragging downward and making my bottom lip pop. My tummy clenched; his touch like fire, burning me inside out. I didn’t want to feel like this, to respond like this, but I couldn’t help it. Where Jason Ford was concerned, my body had a mind all of its own.