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“Jealous?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe a little .”
I grabbed the edge of the sheet to test how tightly she was holding. It fell off her shoulders .
“Sam,” she warned me .
I licked my lips. I wasn’t going to stop there. Natalia was mine. My fiancée. My love. My life. And soon she would be my wife. I had to make the most of this honeymoon preview .
“If you don’t want that little couple to see what I do to make those sounds come from your gorgeous lips, you better get inside .”
“You wouldn’t.” She looked incredulous .
“Wouldn’t I?” I winked .
She scampered up the stairs, gathering the sheet around her waist, and ran inside with laughter. I dropped my coffee and pounced after her .
Natalia had taught me something the first night we met and it was a lesson I wouldn’t forget. No matter what—never let her get away .
* * *
T hank you for reading Sidelined! Also, I have a preview of Turn Over , available now .
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1
Luke
S ometimes people are wrong. They’re wrong about what the score will be at the end of the game. They’re wrong about what route to run. They’re wrong about who they can trust. And fuck it, they’re wrong about people. Wrong about love. I used to be one of those people. Cynical. Egotistical. Selfish. But all it takes is one second. One split second of your life when you think you’ll lose everything. And suddenly it comes into focus. Faster than I take a snap. Faster than I read the defense. I can see all of it. I can see it being ripped away. In a split second all of it can be ruined. There could be a life where she doesn’t exist. Where the mistakes push her away .
They are wrong about me. And the thing about me is I love to prove people wrong .
* * *
I t was hot as shit on the practice field. The September sun beat down on everyone. It didn’t discriminate between million dollar players or the trainers who took home fifty thousand a year. It was brutal and unrelenting, reminding all of us what it meant to play football in Texas .
Ownership promised we would have an indoor facility soon with air conditioning, but that didn’t do a damn bit of good when my linemen were cramping up on the field and I could barely see from the sting of sweat rolling in my eyes .
I gripped the ball between my fingers, digging into the leather with my nails while the sideline crew ran out to squirt water in the players’ mouths. I didn’t see what good an ounce of water was going to do in this heat, but I waited anyway .
Our rookie tight end, James, walked up to me. “What did you think of that last play ?”
“I think it sucked.” I held my helmet under my arm and squirted water on the back of my neck .
I could see him huffing as hard as the rest of the team and he was twenty-two—the youngest guy out here .
“I’ve been asking for pointers since July,” he started .
I didn’t want to hear his excuses or anyone else’s. If you played for the American Football Association, you better have the balls to back it up. James was a top draft pick. He was new to the league, the process, and me .
“You want advice? Get out there and catch the fucking ball when I throw it.” I slammed my helmet over my head, clamping it against my forehead. “Is there anything else you need to know ?”
He shook his head, running to the line of scrimmage. I didn’t take on projects, and I sure as hell didn’t take rookies under my wing. They had to learn just like the rest of us had .
This game wasn’t built on kindness. It wasn’t built on friendship. It was built on that scoreboard. When the clocked ran down to zero the only thing that mattered was what number was next to the Warriors’ name. Make catches. Block punts. Tackle the runner. That was their job. I
