Chapter 16—Weathering the Storm
* Riley *
The next game against Utah turned brutal, partly because they needed this win as badly as we did and partly because the refs must have been graduates of the Sight-Impaired Referee Academy. Those idiots saw nothing whatsoever.
With eight minutes to go in the fourth quarter, we were driving down the field. The score was seven to ten. We had the seven points.
Gage bent over in the huddle, wiping blood from a cut on his face. He looked as though he’d been on a battlefield, not a football field. Mace leaned on me, favoring his right ankle. Some asshole had stepped on it with his cleats when they’d been in a pile.
Gage looked each of us in the eye. Despite the weariness in his gaze, I also saw unbreakable determination. Our fearless leader never gave up.
“We’ve got this. Ry, run up the middle as a decoy, and I’ll toss one down the sideline to Eli.”
Eddie and I nodded simultaneously.
We smacked helmets together and lined up on the field. I crouched at the outside position, eyeing the defensive end who’d been giving me fits all day. I couldn’t shake the asshole, but I would this time.
Gage barked out the snap count, the ball was hiked, and the play was on. By having me run up the middle, our line, which had been like a sieve all day, couldn’t hold off the rush. Gage would have to rely on his quick feet to get out away from his would-be tacklers. Their DE took the bait and raced upfield with me. In my peripheral vision, Eddie leaped in the air, caught the pass, and raced up the field.
Touchdown!
And with way too much time left on the clock.
I ran to the end zone to smack Eddie on the shoulder pads with the rest of my teammates. Turning, I started to jog to the bench. Several of the guys huddled with the coaches near the middle of the field and caught my attention. Someone was down.
I scanned the players coming off the field or standing near the prone figure, trying to determine who’d been injured. I stared harder as my blood ran cold.
Fuck.
Gage? Where the fuck was Gage?
Mason sprinted past me toward the growing crowd around the downed player. “It’s Gage,” he called over his shoulder.
I pushed to the front of the group of concerned teammates gathering around Gage. He wasn’t moving. Not even a muscle twitch. His face was ghostly pale. I knelt down as the head trainer checked him out. My gaze went to his chest and saw a shallow rise and fall. Then I saw it. His lower leg was bent at a ghastly angle, bone poking through the skin, and blood everywhere.
The blood. So much of it.
My world started to spin, and my vision blurred. My brain wanted to go back to the cafeteria seven years ago to my friends lying on the floor, some already dead, some bleeding out. Blood on my clothes. Blood everywhere. I put a hand on the ground to steady myself. The team didn’t need me passing out on top of all this.
I fought the past and managed to stay in the present by focusing on Gage’s face. His eyes fluttered open and met mine. I gripped his upper arm, careful to stay out of the way of the training and medical staff.
“Hey, looks like you’re the man,” he said with a wry smile.
I hadn’t even thought about that.
I stood back as the ambulance rolled out onto the turf. The EMTs stabilized Gage’s leg and loaded him onto a stretcher. I watched, feeling helpless.
He winked at me as they loaded his gurney and gave me the thumbs-up. “Kick ass.”
“I will,” I said in a shaky voice. I’d just about had a flashback, a panic attack, and now I was the starting quarterback. I’d never been a starting QB for a peewee football team, let alone a D-1 college team. I squelched a panic of another type. My team was depending on me.
Coach pulled me off to the side. “Start warming up on the sideline. I hope to fuck you have the playbook memorized.”
“I do, Coach.” When it came to football, I did my homework.
He nodded and smacked me on the back. “You got this, kid. You can do it. We’ll keep it simple, do a lot of running plays. If the defense can hold them, all you have to do is hang on to the ball, don’t throw an interception, and try to get at least one first down. You can scramble if you need to. Use your quick feet and speed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Start warming up your arm.”
Eddie stepped up. “I’ll help.”
Pushing concern for Gage to the back of my mind, I palmed the football Coach had handed me. I had a game to win and under seven minutes to hold this together. Too much could happen in seven minutes.
Eddie and I tossed the ball back and forth before I started throwing my version of bullets. I wasn’t a bad thrower. I could sling the ball, and if I’d had the opportunity to play consistently as a kid, maybe I’d be a true starter somewhere, not the team’s last chance.
Our defense did their job. Three downs and a punt later, I was jogging onto the field. My teammates watched me warily, not sure I’d rise to the occasion or cave under the pressure. Earning their trust was solely my job.
We gathered in the huddle, arms across each other’s shoulders. I imitated Gage when the game was on the line. I looked each one of them in the eye, assessing their level of commitment. I liked what I saw. Ten men with narrowed, steely eyes stared back at me, ready to go to battle and win this thing. We didn’t need to score. We needed to run the clock down, grind it out, and not give Utah time to mount a scoring drive.
The first two plays were completely predictable. I handed off to Mason, and he ran into the defense’s brick wall. They’d been waiting for him, of course. Coach sent in a pass play, a quick slant to the sideline. If it worked, it’d be enough for a first down. If not, we punted.
It didn’t work. My pass was a little too high and grazed Eli’s fingertips despite his Herculean effort jumping for the ball. Logan jogged past me and gave me a curt nod. His face was a mask of weary determination. The defense was wearing down. They’d spent too much time on the field, and we weren’t giving them a break.
Two first downs later, Utah marched down to field goal territory, but they needed more than a field goal to win it. Three minutes were left on the clock. They were on the thirty. On third and six, their QB lofted a pass for the end zone. Logan, being in the right place, right time, leaped for it. He came down with the ball and powered upfield, a sea of his defensive guys swarming in front of him, clearing the way. I’d been on the bench going over plays with the QB coach, but I jumped to my feet with everyone else, yelling my lungs out.
Logan was brought down on their twenty.
I’d been hoping he’d score, because now scoring was on my shoulders.
I strapped on my helmet and went to work. Again, we tried to run the ball on the first two plays and run down the clock. All Mason gained was one yard for his efforts. Utah had really locked down their run protection, not that difficult considering our predictability and my inexperience.
The offensive coordinator called for a pass play. We’d send our other tight end, Garrison Heath, up the middle along with Eddie to throw them off. Mason would run a quick out route and I’d lob the ball to him.
Two minutes left on third-and-nine.
I lined up behind the center, scanned the defense briefly, and called out the snap count. The ball was in my hands. I took two steps back and looked for Mason.
Shit.
Mason slipped on the turf and fell flat on his face. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Utah’s infamous pass rusher bearing down on me. A quick scan of the field revealed no open targets. I couldn’t afford an interception.
Fuck.
I didn’t have a choice. I tucked the ball tightly against my stomach and ran, weaving in and out of tacklers. They brought me down on the five. The crowd was roaring, but I barely heard them.
Two more running plays, and we scored.
Our defense held, and forty-five seconds later the final buzzer sounded.
We’d won. Barely. With n
o thanks to my sketchy passing talents.
And I emerged relatively unscathed from my first stint as a college quarterback. I hadn’t been impressive, but I didn’t stink up the place, either. I hadn’t made any mistakes. I’d been steady and confident.
My teammates surrounded me with backslapping and first bumps. I grinned at them, enjoying the moment.
My next thought was to look for Tiff. I’d been so focused on the game, I hadn’t thought of her. She was leaning on the railing in the first row of the stadium, wearing my jersey, cheering and clapping her hands over her head.
I ran to her, pushing through the throng on the field. Her smile was radiant with joy and pride. She leaned over the railing as I reached her. We hugged, then she was kissing me.
Her kiss was better than winning this game, because I was winning her over.
* Tiff *
After the game, I made use of the pass Riley had given me and went into the bowels of the stadium to wait by the locker room. Alisa had disappeared without a word as to where she was headed, while Wayne left to join friends playing video games. I suspected Wayne had a boyfriend, and Alisa…who knew what she had going on?
I was still a little pale and shaken by Gage’s injury, but I wasn’t the only one affected by the shooting. One look at Riley’s pasty face as he’d knelt by his buddy’s head, and I’d feared he was going to lose it.
I’d wanted to run, disappear somewhere until my pounding heart calmed and my breathing returned to normal. Yet I hadn’t. I’d stayed here. I’d kept my demons at bay because Riley would need me.
He held up well for the rest of the game and rallied the troops, but I knew how this stuff worked. He’d collapse later when he had time to think about it, and all that blood. And only a few days prior to the worst anniversary a person could ever have. For once, I took solace in the fact that we’d have each other.
Riley had to be struggling. He’d been my rock so many times; tonight was my night to be his. We were stronger together than we were apart.
I’d never seen it that way. I’d seen us as bringing each other down, not holding each other up.
Call it an epiphany.
I blew out a breath and leaned against the cool concrete block wall near the locker room, dumbstruck more by this realization than by all the other events of the day. I didn’t have time to mull it over as the area filled up with the press, family, friends, and worst of all, a chilly Cooper and distracted Izzy.
Other than a curt hello, Cooper ignored me, while Izzy was polite and reserved. At least she didn’t treat me as if I were an especially smelly pile of horse manure. Even so, her guarded demeanor broadcast loud and clear that I was not welcome here with open arms, more like tolerated. I wished I’d insisted Wayne and Alisa come with me for backup.
“Do you have any word on Gage?” I asked Cooper, refusing to let this man intimidate me.
He swung his intense blue gaze to meet mine. I was struck again by Riley’s similarity to his uncle. I mustered every bit of mental toughness I possessed to hold Cooper’s gaze. Much to my surprise, he looked away first. I inwardly smirked in triumph. Score one for me.
“I don’t know any more than what has been already released.” He didn’t bother to fill me in on what that was.
“I’m guessing he’s out for the season.”
“Yeah.”
“Riley did a good job.”
“I’m proud of him,” Cooper said. His face softened, and he almost smiled. Pride momentarily melted the ice in his blue eyes before they froze again.
“So am I.” I challenged Cooper with a steely glare of my own, or as steely as I could manage when the man was over a head taller and outweighed me two-to-one.
Cooper narrowed his gaze and scrutinized me in silence, but I saw a glimmer of respect along with the usual disapproval. Izzy wrapped her fingers around his arm and whispered something in his ear. He smiled and leaned into her, dismissing me without a glance.
I stood off to the side, feeling snubbed and alone. Damn it. I would win them over. I wasn’t going away, even though my track record indicated otherwise. I’d been a traumatized teenager then, barely hanging on to my sanity. I’d learned a lot in three years, and perhaps I’d healed more than I realized. I’d stood up to Cooper Black, one of the most imposing men in the NHL. I’d fought through the panic at seeing that blood and emerged whole on the other side.
Emma and Tanner showed up a few minutes later, and I almost fell at their feet over the relief of seeing a few friendly faces. Tanner and Riley had been friends for years, and Tanner had never shown me anything but kindness. After the shooting, we’d worked on Kids Against School Violence together. Tanner relished being a shit to Cooper. He knew his acceptance of me would burn Cooper’s ass. The two men had a long-standing pseudo feud based on a grudging respect and odd friendship. It was as if they liked each other but couldn’t admit they liked each other.
“Is he giving you crap?” Tanner asked after Emma wandered across the hall to talk to her sister.
“Who?” I played dumb. Getting stuck in the middle of Tanner and Cooper’s love-hate relationship wasn’t the way to earn Cooper’s respect.
Tanner jerked his thumb in Cooper’s direction.
“Coop? Nah. Not at all.”
Tanner gave me a long, hard stare, and I couldn’t meet his gaze.
“He’s a stubborn jackass, but he adores Riley. Once he figures out you’re the best thing to ever happen to the Ry-man, he’ll come around.” He studied me some more. “And you are going to be the best thing for Riley this time around, right?”
Well, crap. Even Tanner had his doubts about me. “That’s my plan, but neither Riley nor I can foresee the future.”
Tanner frowned. “Ry’s going to need a lot of support. He just became the starting QB for a D-1 school with very little QB experience. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a guy, especially considering the other uncertainties in his life.”
By uncertainties, he meant me. I deserved the skepticism and suspicions of Riley’s friends and family, even though their lack of faith in me—in us—frustrated me.
But who could blame them? I wasn’t sure where this relationship was going, either. I waffled between declaring my love and making like I was in witness protection, never to be heard from again. I was currently in the love phase.
I squared my shoulders and looked Tanner directly in the eye. “I appreciate your concern.”
Before he could respond, the locker room door opened, and Riley walked out. He hadn’t taken two steps before the press was on him. His dark hair was wet from a shower, and his Chinooks polo clung to his muscled chest. He caught my eye over the heads of the crowd of reporters and shot me a genuine smile. I smiled back, relieved to finally see him. Twenty minutes later, he made his way to Tanner and me.
“Hey,” he said with a grin. He kissed me on the cheek and draped his arm across my shoulders. I wrapped my arm around his waist and leaned into him.
“What’s the scoop on Gage?” Tanner asked.
“Gage is going into surgery tomorrow morning. His leg is broken in multiple places. Quite a mess. He’s in a lot of pain. Several of us are heading to Harborview to see him.” Riley indicated his teammates standing in a loose group several feet away.
I covered my face in my hands and choked back a sob. Riley rubbed my arm to comfort me as he continued to talk to Tanner, but their words swam in my head and never made sense. I couldn’t get past Gage’s college career–ending injury. Perhaps even a football-ending injury. Gage lived and breathed football—and banging women—and who would he be without football?
“Tiff?” Riley turned to me. “I’m heading to the hospital. I might be a while. Could you go to my house and let Otto out?”
I nodded, forcing a smile to mask the disappointment that I wouldn’t be going with Riley to the hospital. “I’d be glad to.”
“You know where we hide the key.”
“I do.”
He smiled, but
concern saddened those blue eyes. “I’ll see you later tonight. I’ll text you when we’re done.”
“Okay.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine.
Tanner, Emma, and the team followed Riley down the long hallway. I watched the group leave before exiting a side door and walking the several blocks home.
Otto danced in front of the door as I opened it. His tail slapped from side to side, literally hitting his butt each time. He raced past me and into the yard, immediately going about his business. The poor thing must’ve been holding it for a long time.
I rummaged through the cupboards and freezer and put together a taco casserole for the guys. They’d be famished, and they ate way too much pizza, in my opinion. I curled up on the couch with Otto and watched a chick flick.
The next thing I remember was Riley kissing me awake. I moaned into his mouth and leaned into him, fisting the fabric of his shirt.
“Get a room,” Mason said.
“Something smells good. Get off her, Ry-man, so we can eat.” Logan headed for the kitchen.
“Riley.” I pushed on his chest, and he reluctantly let go. “How’s Gage?”
“Cranky, tired, and drugged up.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I could only imagine.
“Is this ready?” Logan shouted from the kitchen. Otto bounded off the couch and lumbered into the kitchen to see what was up.
“Gage will be okay. He’s a survivor.” Riley’s blue eyes were troubled, despite his upbeat statement.
“And you? How will you be?”
He chuckled. “I’m a survivor, too. Tanner is going to work with me.”
“Oh, Riley, that’s great.”
“Hey, is this ready or do I need to eat that dog of Ry’s for dinner?” Logan called again.
I shot to my feet and checked the casserole. It was ready, and as soon as I pulled it out of the oven, the guys were digging in, even Riley. I took a small plate and sat at the table with them. They reminded me of the horse barn at dinnertime. No sound other than chewing and snorting.
Finally, Mason wiped his mouth, glanced at Riley, then leveled his piercing gaze at me. “Did you tell her?”
Sacked in Seattle: Game On in Seattle Rookies (Men of Tyee Book 1) Page 13
