Page 45 of Playing It Forward

Gage shoves him. “We’re not keeping score.”

“Because you’re afraid to lose.”

“We’re on the same team, dipshit.”

“Not right now we’re not.” Tanner motions to me. “Throw it to me!”

I rub my shoulder before throwing the ball. Brock lumbers into the flat and snags the pass one-handed before Tanner has the chance to make another smartass comment.

“No fair!” Tanner shouts as Brock throws the ball back to me.

“Line up!” I order. “Show me you can run.”

Tanner and Gage sprint toward me while Corbin jogs and Brock trails behind them.

“Why is there so much sand? It gets everywhere,” Brock grumbles.

“Because it’s a beach, Mr. Grumpy.”

Corbin sighs. “Can you act like an adult for one day?”

Tanner chuckles. “Sounds boring.”

I ignore them and scan the beach. I should be concentrating on where I want to throw the ball, but my gaze snags on chestnut hair flying in the wind. Terri throws her head back and laughs at whatever her assistant is saying.

I want to be the one making her laugh. But I’m glad she’s feeling better. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if she lied to me about how she’s feeling. My sprite is stubborn.

I tap the ball and point to a corner of the beach. “Corner route.”

Corbin nods before breaking into a sprint. Brock rushes to protect him from Gage and Tanner, who are now acting as defense players, and crashes straight into a beach chair. The chair flies into a cooler and collapses.

“Oops.” Brock kicks the items out of his way and continues.

Corbin snags the ball from the air. Tanner tackles him and drives him backward into the sand.

“This isn’t tackle football.”

Tanner jumps to his feet. “You should have run faster.”

He holds out his hand to Corbin, who ignores him and stands on his own.

“Quarterback’s dropping his elbow,” someone says, and I peek over my shoulder. A group of old men are sitting in beach chairs with beers in their hands.

One of them salutes me. “Watch the elbow.”

I glare at him. Who does he think he is? Has he been personally coaching in the NFL for forty years? I doubt it. I’ll show him.

“Go long!” I order Tanner.

He sprints through the sand with Gage hot on his heels. Corbin isn’t far behind. Everyone thinks because he’s heavy, he’s slow. It’s an assumption many NFL teams have regretted making.

I plant my feet and wait until Tanner enters the zone. Then, I throw the ball. My shoulder protests. I rub it as I wait for Tanner to catch the ball.

But Tanner isn’t going to catch the ball. I overthrew it. Shit.

The ball is aiming straight for Terri.

“Terri!” I shout. “Duck!”