by Tracey Ward
It creates an opening in the line.
Trey has handed off the ball to Colt who sees the hole in the line and drives straight for it. Another lineman closes in on him but he slips away with incredible agility that leaves me breathless. I take hold of Carol’s hand in an iron grasp as we watch him run across the thirty, closing on the forty.
“Yes!” I shout with Carol, bouncing up and down excitedly.
Just outside the forty a lineman hits Colt from the side and spins him around, taking him to the ground.
I instantly go still, holding my breath waiting for him to get up, just like I have every play since I saw him hurt in December.
Colt shoves the guy away before reaching up for Tyus’s waiting hand. He explained to me once that they always help each other up not just because it’s a dick move to leave your man lying there on the ground, but because it conserves energy for the guy who took the hit. You’re sharing the load by helping him. It’s a minute aspect of the team mentality they live with that I never would have thought of but it’s nice to see.
Tyus helps snap Colt to his feet before they jog back to the huddle where Trey and the rest of the guys are waiting for them. They hurry through the instructions and run to the line. The clock is still ticking.
Less than two minutes left in the game.
Trey calls for the snap. It bobbles in his hands, nearly dropping to the ground before he recovers it, but he’s stayed close to the line for too long. He tucks the ball in close just as a lineman tackles him to the ground. The play is dead before it began.
“That damn center,” Carol mumbles angrily.
Two more plays get us only six more yards. It’s fourth down. We’re outside field goal range.
One minute, thirteen seconds on the clock.
“I can’t take this,” I whisper into my fingers, my eyes locked on the field.
“It never gets any easier,” Carol warns me. “But we’ve pulled out of worse. Just wait. They’ve got another down and plenty of time.”
They’re lining up. Colt is far to Trey’s right. I watch him anxiously, waiting for him to perform a miracle. Praying for him not to get hurt.
Trey snaps the ball. Colt bursts into action, running down the right side of the field. A lineman tracks him, ready to cover him, but Trey isn’t going for him. He’s been watching Tyus and he’s open. Trey makes the throw, a high, precise spiral that’s aimed right at Tyus’ waiting arms. He’s on the fifty with no one around and I’ve seen his speed before, once he gets going no one can catch him.
I’m on my toes, my hands on my mouth as Tyus waits for it. As he lines himself up with the pass. As a lineman barrels toward him.
They both go up at the same time. Tyus reaches for the ball. It bounces off his left hand, tumbling to his chest. He goes to wrap his arms around it just as his feet come back to the ground but the Falcon is there with his hand in the way and he strips the ball from Tyus’s grasp. He takes it in his own.
“NO!!!” the stadium erupts around me.
Tyus wraps up the Falcon before he can run away, but the damage is done. We’ve lost possession. It’s the Falcon’s ball on the fifty yard line.
Forty-seven seconds on the clock.
“No,” I whisper.
But it doesn’t matter. The offensive line leaves the field. Colt rips his helmet off and heads immediately for Tyus. He’s in a rage and Colt can see it. He grabs the back of his friend’s head and talks to him quick and low. Tyus tries to pull away but Colt won’t let him. He keeps talking. Keeps holding onto him. Finally he releases him and Tyus nods once, his eyes on the ground. The rest of the team passes him, each one clapping him on the back or knocking his shoulder. Telling him it’s alright. They don’t blame him. Trey is the last one to him and he doesn’t say a word. He just stands next to him, shoulder to shoulder, their faces equally grim.
Colt has removed himself from the pack, his back to the field. I can’t see his face.
Things move quickly after that. The defense holds strong, but the Falcons aren’t looking to score. Not really. They want to run out the clock and seal the victory.
A minute later they do just that.
Final score: Falcons twenty-six, Kodiaks twenty.
The Super Bowl just fell out of reach.
I fall into my seat, my face in my hands, my hair tumbling in a veil around me. I can’t believe they lost. I can’t believe how sad I am over this game, something I couldn’t have cared less about three months ago, but now I’m heartbroken for them, for all of them. I’m destroyed for Colt.
There’s a shuffling around me. Loud cheers, condolences being shouted. I look up in surprise to find everyone around me on their feet facing the wall. The wall where Colt is climbing up and over in his cleats and his gear, only his helmet shucked off somewhere between me and the field. I watch in amazement as his large arms are able to pull him up and over the bars on the railing in front of me and hoist his heavy body into the stands. His face is a tight mask of determination, stone chiseled into the agony of defeat.
I go to stand to meet him but he falls to his knees in front of me. He leans forward to wrap his arms around my waist and bury his face in my chest like a child looking for comfort. This massive man covered in sweat and gear, this warrior who fought from the hold of men a hundred pounds heavier than him for the last four hours, is kneeling at my feet, breathing hard and broken against my breast.
I wrap my arms gently around his head, the only part of him I can reach that’s not covered in pads, and I stroke his wet hair gently.
I lean my face down to the top of his head, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to. I understand how he feels, I know what it is to lose, and the only thing he wants from me is the one thing I can give him.
Me. My presence. My love.
My promise to always be there for him, win or lose.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
COLT
February 15th
Enclave Estates
Pacific Palisades, CA
“Here we are again,” I mutter.
Lilly laughs, taking my hand as we walk toward the front of the house. She looks sexy in a yellow summer dress, her hair curled and swept to one side exposing her neck and the diamond earrings I gave her last night for Valentine’s Day. “At least you’re allowed to give them your present now. You’ve had a baby chair in your trunk for almost four months. My ovaries were starting to feel pressured.”
“I wish you would have told me. I would have tossed it out on the side of the road.”
“Not ready for kids, huh?” she chuckles.
I raise a dubious eyebrow at her. “Are you?”
“Not at all.”
“But you want them someday?”
“I want two,” she answers immediately. “How about you?”
I nod my head thoughtfully. “Two sounds good. Two sounds like we don’t have to buy a minivan.”
Her cheeks flush pink. They always do when I talk about our future together. “You say ‘we’ a lot,” she scolds me, sounding like an echo from last November.
From another blush and another day when I looked at her and thought that she felt like my forever.
“Hey, hold up!” Trey calls after us.
I turn to see him and Sloane climbing out of his red pickup. He looks like my twin in a pair of dark slacks and a white button up shirt. The only difference between us is the color of our ties; mine is green, his is orange. Sloane is in a long, pastel dress that skims the ground at her feet. Her hair is professionally done, her makeup on point as always, like she just stepped off the cover of a magazine. She’s beautiful but it makes me appreciate the easy way Lilly stepped out of the loft today. Ten minutes was all it took for her to look this good and I’d rather have her time than have her runway ready.
“Did you get my message about the film crew?” The Hotness asks seriously.
My brows tighten. “Yeah, I skimmed it real quick before
we came. What was it about? Some kind of documentary?”
“For the NFL channel,” she confirms. “They’re looking at following two teams all next season. They’re calling it The Road to the Ring.”
“It sounds like we’re going to Mordor.”
“Nerd. Anyway, the channel has hired this award winning documentary crew and they’re going to follow the Kodiaks and an AFC team. I guess they’re still deciding which team that’s going to be. Someone that they think the Kodiaks will likely face off with in the Super Bowl next year.”
“They think we’re going?” I ask guardedly.
“Everyone does. Nobody thinks you guys should have lost that game to the Falcons.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Trey murmurs.
He’s still beating himself up about that last pass to Tyus that was intercepted. Him and Tyus both.
Sloane touches his arm gently, but she keeps filling me in. “They think the Kodiak offense is good enough to go all the way next year. That’s why they’re going to follow you.”
“Follow us how?”
“Filming practices, as much as the coaches will let them. Workouts. Team events. They’re going to highlight certain players too. Dig a little deeper into their day to day lives. Probably you because, well…”
“Because it’s me?”
“Because you’ve got a pretty face and a following. They want to talk to Tyus too. Probably Trey. Some guys from the defense. They’re also very interested in who you guys draft this year.”
“Tell them about Kurtis,” Trey reminds her.
The Hotness smiles happily. “Holy shit, I almost forgot. You’re not going to believe this.”
“Matthews has refused to be interviewed?” I guess.
She shakes her head. “Can’t. It’s in his contract to participate with any NFL promotional interviews or events, and this falls dead under that. But that’s not the big news. Hollis had him in the office yesterday. Kurtis Matthews has agreed to be a Calvin Klein underwear model.”
“Fuck you!” I shout in disbelief.
“I swear it’s true,” she laughs. “That’s why he came into the office. To sign the contracts.”
I look behind her to check the cars that are parked in front of the house. “He’s not here yet is he?”
“I doubt he’s coming.”
“He didn’t come to the gender reveal either,” Trey reminds me.
I look at The Hotness, shocked. “That was my campaign.”
She laughs at me. “You turned it down.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think they’d sign Kurtis-fucking-Matthews to do it.”
“Why not?” Lilly asks. “He’s hot.”
“Yeah, but he’s not as hot as me.”
“Eh,” Sloane groans, looking me over. “He might be, dude.”
“Fuck you,” I repeat.
“Oh my God, Rona is going to die,” Lilly mutters to herself. “She slept with a Calvin Klein model.”
“Are they still going at it?” Sloane asks in amazement.
“No! No, no, no. It ended before Christmas, but still. She should put that on her resume.”
“I would.”
“Right?”
I point at Trey. “I thought you were going to try to get him to do it.”
Trey laughs. “No thanks, man. I’ll stick with Subway. They don’t ask me to take my clothes off and sit around looking like a tired runaway.”
“You could have done it,” Lilly tells me halfheartedly. “I know it was going to pay a boatload.”
I shake my head, slinging my arm around her shoulders. “No way. You specifically said no billboards in my underwear and this ad is probably going up in Time’s Square.”
“Still, though, it’s—“
“It’s not worth it. Not anymore,” I tell her seriously.
She smiles before lifting up on her toes to kiss me sweetly. She tastes like cherry Chap Stick. It makes me hungry in a hundred different ways.
“You’re a good man, Colt Avery,” she whispers against my lips.
She hits me hard with that shit. I nearly blush myself.
“We should get inside, love birds,” The Hotness teases. “We wouldn’t want to be late, would we, Colt?”
“You guys go ahead. I need to show Lilly something.”
“This is a fancy party, dude,” Trey warns me. “Please don’t whip it out in front of the whole team again.”
“Again?” Lilly asks on a laugh.
“It was Halloween!” I cry defensively. “You’re lucky if you don’t see a dick on Halloween.”
“I think you’re celebrating Halloween wrong.”
“Whatever,” I mumble, pulling Lilly toward the side of the house. “We’ll meet you guys inside.”
“You know, I was kind of hoping that since I’m not working this party I could go in through the front door like a real person,” Lilly objects as I stride toward the kitchen entrance.
“This is going to be better. I promise.”
“I’m trusting you.”
“That’s all I ask.”
The wait staff is different than it was back in November. They look up at is in surprise when we come into the kitchen but no one questions us, although I can feel them watching us as I open the pantry door and push Lilly quickly inside. I lock it just as quickly behind us.
She stands in the corner by the bags of brown rice, her hands on her hips. “Colt, I didn’t have sex with you in here four months ago and I’m not going to do it now.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “No. That’s not what we’re doing.”
“Then what are we doing in here?”
“We’re going back to the beginning.”
“What?”
I clear my throat, swallowing down the lump that’s rising inside it. “There are a thousand different ways I could have done this. I know because I looked them up online. Literally thousands. But I also know that most of them are nothing you would be comfortable with. I know that you need it to be small and private, just you and me, so that’s what I’m doing.” I drop down to one knee in front of her, taking her hands in mine. Her eyes are huge, glaciers pure and blue staring down at me in amazement.
“Oh my God,” she breathes.
“I know this is fast, even by my standards, but I love you. I knew there was something incredible about you the day I met you here in this room, and I find something new to love about you every single day. I find those things and I memorize them because I see you. Crystal clear. And no matter what your answer is to this question, I want you to know that I’ll never forget you, Lilly Hendricks. I will say your name every day for the rest of my life, and when I die it will be the last word to cross my lips. I promise you that.”
Tears fall from her eyes. They drip down her cheeks, off her chin, onto our hands clasped together. They fall like rain and when she smiles they burst from her eyes in a torrent that washes over my skin, cool and clean.
I reach into my pocket to pull out the box inside. Her breath hitches when she sees it. When it gets real.
I open it slowly, showing her the large emerald cut diamond inside.
“I know you probably wish it was smaller,” I joke with a crooked grin, the one I know she loves. “But you gotta let me do some things big.”
I’m relieved when she laughs roughly, wiping at her eyes to clear them. “This is big,” she agrees. “This is all really big.”
“But is it too much?”
She shakes her head, dropping to her knees in front of me, a smile on her face. “No. It’s perfect.” She bypasses the ring, reaching for my face and kissing me hard. “Everything you do is perfect.”
“Is that a yes?” I ask, my nerves fried. My skin prickling with adrenaline.
“What was the question?”
I chuckle, taking hold of her hips to pull her closer. “Will you marry me, Lilly?”
“Yes, Colt. I would be proud to marry you.”
She lets me put the ring on her finger. It looks even
bigger on her small hand and I can tell it freaks her out a little bit, but she’ll get used to it. Same way she got used to me. The same way she fell in love with me; slow and sweet.
I jacked up my knee again this season. We lost our shot at the Super Bowl. Lilly’s dad is battling a bitch of a disease. And still when I hold her close, her body shaking against mine with laughter and tears as I ask her to promise again and again to be my wife, I can’t help but feel hopeful. I feel that high, that rush that loving her gives to me. I’m looking forward instead of back, toward a new day, a new life, a new season, and one thought is pushing hard at the forefront of my mind.
It’s going to be a fucking good year.
Thank you for reading SUGAR RUSH!
The third book in the series following Kurtis Matthews is coming late 2016.
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Keep reading for a preview of THIS IS THE WONDER.
I went to Europe to study. To party, to hide, to run away from the endless sea of choices that would mold and shape the rest of my life. I wasn't ready for any of that. Not yet. I wasn't ready to have all the answers.
And I definitely wasn't ready for Jax.
Handsome, sweet, and sporting the biggest blue eyes I'd ever seen, he swooped into my world and changed everything. Suddenly I wasn't scared of making choices. I wasn't afraid of voicing answers. It was easy because where Jax was concerned, my answer was always "Yes".
But loving a military man isn't easy, and while Jax seemed like the answer to everything, he has questions of his own.
Doubts about his future. Fears about his past.
Chapter One
“The toilets are flooding! The toilets are flooding!”
I look up to see Mel standing in the doorway to our compartment, her face flushed with panic and disgust. “What is that? Is that like ‘The British are coming’?”
