My cleats dug into the earth as I ran faster than I ever had. Chaos erupted behind me as my boys ran close to block and the other team switched their direction, realizing too late that we were running a trick play. The silence disappeared, and I could hear the crowd going wild for us. Screams filled the stands, blocking out the sound of my heated breaths inside my helmet.
And then I passed into the end zone and the high of the win hit me. I drove the ball to the ground in celebration as my team rushed me. The sound was deafening, and the smiles of my boys were contagious.
And then the dream shifted and became a nightmare. The chanting all around me changed and instead of my name, they were chanting for Jacob. The chanting gained momentum, every second filling the stadium with words that burned in my chest.
Red Byrd.
I’d given him that stupid nickname when we were kids. When you had fire red hair and your last name was Byrd, you couldn’t run from a name like that.
Their chanting grew louder as he lined up, making me roll my eyes and chuckle. Jacob had a cannon on him and a lot of players were afraid of that, but not me. He could throw long, but I was triple trouble. I could throw, run, and catch. I was a coach’s dream player.
Jacob shot his cannon, the ball flying across the field to his receiver, Ricky, and I felt my breath stop. Ricky took off, and the crowd erupted into cheers. And then he crossed into the end zone, winning the game and snatching my championship right out of my hands.
My heart dropped, and I fell to my knees as Jacob’s team lifted him in celebration. Ripping off my helmet, my eyes moved around until they landed on the stands. Sitting there staring back at me was my father. He never came to games, but he was there. He’d seen me fail.
He shook his head, his lips pinched in disappointment. I looked away, and my eyes locked with my mom’s eyes. She was sitting next to him, wearing the same dress we’d buried her in.
The game forgotten, I stood and quickly made my way across the field to my mom. She stood with her arms out for me to run into. It was real. She was there. My mom. The only person in the world who could hold me and make it all go away. I felt tears rush to my eyes. I never thought I’d see her again.
I climbed the stands, taking two steps at a time until I was standing in front of her. Her dark eyes moved over my face and she smiled. I leaned in to hug her, but before I could, she pressed her hands to my chest and stopped me.
“I’m so disappointed in you, Sawyer. Winners never lose. Are you a winner?”
I sat up from my nightmare breathing hard. Sweat poured down my back and face.
I couldn’t let Jacob win. I couldn’t be a loser. I was better than he was. I’d always be better than he would.
My blood pumped so hard I was beginning to feel dizzy. Anger rushed through me like a freight train, and I pictured smoke puffing from my ears like a cartoon. I clenched my fingers into fists so tightly moisture began to build in my palms. The urge to slap someone was strong.
No.
Not just someone.
Sawyer Reed.
I wanted to backhand him so hard his teeth rattled. I wanted to punch him in his pretty face so hard that he couldn’t think straight for a month. As soon as I saw him again, I’d do just that.
“And then what happened?” I asked.
Jacob’s blue eyes moved over my face, his red hair lying wildly over his freckled forehead when he shrugged.
“No. Don’t act like this is nothing, Jacob.”
Standing, I moved to the window so I could feel the cool fall air against my heated skin. I felt like I was seconds from exploding.
I’d driven to Columbia for the day to visit my dad and check on Jacob. He was my cousin, and we had been super close since we were kids. His family moved close to mine when he got sick, which worked out well since his mom, Aunt Irene, was there to help with my dad once he had his stroke.
Jacob had gotten better over the years, but once again, he wasn’t feeling well, and we both knew that wasn’t a good sign. His sickness would take him away from me one day. We all had to die at some point, but he talked as if it would be sooner rather than later. I wasn’t sure what I would do when he was gone, which meant while he was still with us, I wasn’t going to stand for some cocky son-of-a-bitch pushing him around.
“He was drunk. I let it go.”
I knew he wasn’t afraid of Sawyer. Hell, Jacob had faced death many times since he was ten years old. He wasn’t afraid of anything. If leukemia couldn’t take his spirit, then Sawyer Reed wasn’t going to either.
“Don’t make excuses for him, Byrd. He’s an asshole. Period.”
And he was, apparently.
I’d spent the last couple of weeks hanging out with him, gauging his reaction on things, and I was honestly starting to think that he was a decent guy. But after Jacob told me about what an ass he was being at a party a few days before, I was done thinking Sawyer was a nice guy. Obviously, he was just trying to get in my panties.
I could hardly wait to get back to school. Sawyer was gone for an away game in Kentucky, but he’d be back this afternoon. I was going to make his life a living hell for the shit he’d pulled. He wanted to play the big badass quarterback with another dude; let’s see how he responded when a chick got all up in his face.
Jacob nodded with his boyish smile. “That he is, but he’s been through a lot.”
“Well, so have you,” I countered. “You’re not an asshole dickface because of it.”
“An asshole dickface? Really, Gretchen?”
“Yes, really. He’s a dick face.”
“True, I’ve been through a lot, too, but still …”
“Yeah, but still … you should’ve done something,” I said, knowing that fighting never solved anything.
“What was I supposed to do? Fight him?” He lifted his hands in aggravation before slapping them against his jeans. “I can’t get kicked off the team, Gretchen. It’s probably my last year to play. We both know it. I won’t do anything stupid to jeopardize that.”
Sadness swooped in at his reminder, replacing the anger and softening me immediately.
Leaving the window, I sat next to Jacob and took his large hand in mine.
“Do I need to kick your ass into shape? How the hell are you going to make it to the NFL if you quit after your first year of college ball?”
I controlled the tears that threatened to fill my eyes. I had to be strong. I’d always been strong for Jacob. Even when we were younger and he’d fallen sick again, I was always the one pulling him outside to play even when I knew it was the last thing he wanted to do. As my momma used to say, if you don’t use it, you lose it. Jacob had to put his body to use. No lying in bed for him. I wasn’t willing to let him go. I couldn’t lose him. He was my best friend.
He chuckled to himself, knowing I was totally full of shit. Jacob had been in remission for years. He played high school football like the champ he was. After graduation, he started to feel sick again. He left home for college knowing that he wasn’t feeling well, knowing that the possibility his sickness had returned was there, but he was dead set on the college experience.
I was the only person who knew he wasn’t feeling great, and I’d agreed to keep his secret. Maybe that was stupid of me, but I knew football made Jacob happy, and I also knew the minute he went to the doctor and his suspicions were confirmed, he’d be taken off the team and sent home.
Jacob was going to school and playing the game he loved on borrowed time. And as long as he could keep up his strength and keep his secret, he’d continue to play, and I wasn’t going to be the person to take that away from him.
I’d fought him hard before he left for school, but there was no changing his mind.
“If they catch it early enough, maybe they can treat it faster. You’ll be back on the team in the blink of an eye.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Gretchen. If I give up my spot, I’ll never get it back. What coach would want a cancer pat
ient leading their team?”
I changed the subject quickly. I only had a little bit of time with Jacob before I had to go back to Camden. I didn’t want to spend that time arguing.
“I still think you should’ve kicked his ass.” I smiled, patting his hand.
He chuckled.
“Seriously. And if you can’t, I will,” I joked.
At that, he laughed. “Imagine that. Sawyer Reed getting his ass whooped by a girl.”
“Hey! I resent that.” I poked him in his side.
Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he pulled me into his side. “If there were any girl in the world who could whoop Sawyer, I’d put my money on you.”
His eyes softened, and I leaned into him.
Memories of our old talks surfaced. I could still remember the first time Jacob mentioned Sawyer. We were twelve, and my parents and I were visiting him. He’d been sick in bed for weeks with a fever. He was delirious as he told me about missing his best friend, but the tears on his cheeks had been real. I’d never forget that moment, and ever since then, we’d spoken openly about how he missed his friend and hated that they’d fallen apart over a misunderstanding.
“Are you sure he’s worth it, Jacob?” I asked.
His body tightened next to me, and I knew he didn’t want to talk about it.
Jacob had never gotten over their lost friendship. He hated himself for not being there for Sawyer when his mother died, but it’s not as if he had a choice. He was struggling to live himself. I hated Sawyer for treating Jacob the way he did. Especially since he never even gave Jacob a chance to explain why he wasn’t there. Now, it was too late, and even though Jacob missed his best childhood friend, he was too proud to tell Sawyer that he was sick. That he’d always been sick.
I was the only person in the world who knew how sad Jacob was about the loss of their friendship. Only I knew that he played the rival for Sawyer because he saw how much it fueled him. The truth was a rival was the last thing Jacob wanted to be to Sawyer. He’d told me many times that before he died he’d fix things with Sawyer. I was only speeding that up just in case Jacob’s leukemia really was back. I’d promised not to interfere, but some things were worth it. Jacob was one of those things in my life.
Jacob nodded, his fiery hair highlighted in the sun peeking in through the window.
“He’s a good guy at heart. I know you don’t believe that, but he is. My hope is that we can squash the animosity between us before I die.”
Again, I poked him in his side. “First of all, you’re not going to die. At least not yet anyway. And secondly, it could get squashed a lot faster if you’d just let me talk to him.”
I knew when I said it that he would never go for it. Jacob wanted Sawyer to come on his own, but I wasn’t so sure Jacob had that kind of time. Sawyer was a hard-ass in the worst degree. I didn’t see him shoving his tail between his legs and coming to Jacob to apologize without a damn good reason—a reason like leukemia—a reason like a seriously fucked-up misunderstanding on his part.
Already, the shadows under Jacob’s eyes had darkened, and his cheeks had started to hollow. I knew that look. I’d seen that look many times when we were growing up. I couldn’t, no matter how many times I’d promised, sit aside and let him get sick or die without the peace of knowing he and Sawyer were on good terms.
Again, he shook his head. “No. Just let me do this on my own, okay?”
I nodded my agreement, biting my tongue to keep from telling him the truth. And the truth was I was already setting it up. Jacob would get his friendship back. He’d even get the apology he didn’t know he deserved, and when my cousin closed his eyes for the final time, he’d do so with peace in his heart.
I was on top. Everything and everyone was in the palm of my hand. Every night after classes, homework, or practice, I’d turn on ESPN and see my face. The media loved me and other teams feared me. I was a force to be reckoned with, and after my passing yards and the wins of our last three games, everyone knew it.
I didn't just beat teams; I demolished them. Every pass was on point, and I thought through every play twice. My team was a well-oiled machine of devastation, and I was steering. We were unstoppable, which meant we put Louisville to shame. I got off the plane when we touched back down in South Carolina with a smile on my face. I couldn’t wait to see Gretchen. I was still riding my winning high, and I knew she’d only intensify it.
She wasn’t at the game in Louisville, but she’d been at the two home games before then. I loved having her there. Looking up into the stands and seeing her smiling back at me. It felt good. I hadn’t had a person who I knew really well cheer for me since my mom. Sure, they chanted my name, but I was only the player for them. With Gretchen, I was more. She looked at me like a person, and while I loved being the celebrity football player in school, it was nice to have that balance.
We got back to campus late on Sunday. And even though I wanted to see Gretchen, I overslept and missed Monday’s Lit and Film class. I was still able to catch my other Monday class and was even able to hit the weights. I worked out hard, pushing my muscles until they burned and sweat was running down my back in waves. It wasn’t frustration fueling me; it was inevitability. I was the best, and I had to continue to be the best.
Coming home after hitting the gym with some guys from the team, I fell onto my bed exhausted. The fan above me cooled my heated skin sending chills down my arms and legs.
Flipping on the TV, I expected to see my face, but instead, the screened filled with Jacob’s freckled face and red hair. As I watched, they laid out his stats. They were impressive but still couldn’t touch mine.
“I agree, Tom. I think Red Byrd is the one to watch,” the sports commentator said.
Why? He will never be as good as I am.
Finally, my face flashed across the screen next to Jacob’s picture. I hated when they put us on the same screen, but as they compared our numbers, I laughed. He couldn't touch me in passing yards and touchdowns. I had eight touchdowns next to his zero and had at least a hundred more passing yards. Obviously, Jacob was afraid to run the ball.
My game was better and life was good. I knew it would be even better when I finally made Gretchen mine. Thinking about her, I picked up my phone and sent her a text.
Sawyer: You hungry?
Gretchen: I could eat. What are you thinking?
Sawyer: Pizza and a Netflix? My place?
I’d never invited her to my place before. I was ready to make the next move. I waited and held my breath for ten minutes before her response finally came through.
Gretchen: Address? Time?
With a smile, I texted her my address and told her to be there in an hour. Quickly, I cleaned my room and sprayed some air freshener before calling and ordering pizza. When I was done with that, I showered. It didn’t hurt to be prepared, and in case some hot sucking and fucking went down, I wanted to be fresh and ready.
Thankfully, the guys were out and the house was quiet. By the time she got there, I had the place smelling somewhat decent and as clean as it could get. I opened the door to let her in, but instead of her usual smile, she was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Her face cleared and a tight-lipped smile replaced her frown. “Nothing. Just lost in thought.”
She stepped around me, leaving a sweet wave of her perfume behind her and went into the house without another word.
Something was up.
Her shoulders were stiff, the skin around her eyes tight. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it almost felt as if she was pissed off with me about something. I hadn’t paid much attention before, but her text messages over the last few days had been relatively short and to the point.
Shutting the front door, I followed her into the living room. She was standing there in the middle of the room taking in the bare walls and cheap furniture.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I said, falling onto the couch and resting my bare feet on the coff
ee table. “Have a seat. Make yourself at home. Pizza should be here soon, and the guys aren’t here, which is good because that means I won’t have to kick their asses out. I’m an asshole like that,” I joked.
I was serious, though. If it meant getting some alone time with Gretchen, I would have kicked all their asses to the curb for the night.
“Oh, I have no doubts about that.” She chuckled dryly.
Her words were blunt and cut deep.
Without looking at me, she sat in the chair across the room and crossed her arms. She lifted a pissed off brow and her lips tightened again.
Something was definitely wrong.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
Standing, I went across the room and stood in front of her. “Come on, Gretchen, quit bullshitting. It’s obvious something’s bothering you. Did someone do or say something to you? Whose ass am I kicking?”
Her eyes flashed up to me, anger deep in her brow.
“Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re the one who needs his ass kicked,” she snapped.
The hair on the back of my neck bristled.
Leaning over her, I rested my palms on the arms of the chair. She continued to look up at me, fire burning behind her green eyes.
She was pissed at me.
I didn’t know what I’d done to her, but honestly, I didn’t care. The hot way she was looking at me as if she wanted to claw at my skin like a wildcat was kind of turning me on. It was twisted. It didn’t make a drop of sense to me, but damn, she looked sexy when she was pissed off.
“I’d like to see you try.” I grinned.
Her face darkened, and when I moved in closer, she pressed at my chest with the palm of her hand.
“I’m being serious, Sawyer. I’m just a little a pissed off right now.”
“I get that, Gretchen,” I mocked her name. “But it’s better than being pissed on, isn’t it?” I chuckled. “I mean, unless that’s your thing. Golden shower.”
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