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“Stay in it!” I shouted. We’d already used up our final time-out, been stopped short with only a five-yard gain before the Rush defense blitzed our QB and took control of the ball again. I could see the mixture of frustration and dedication in the guys’ faces. Hell, I felt the same. More than half the plays I’d called had been denied by the Rush.
Both teams lined up, and Ramsey took the snap for the Rush, glancing briefly left and right. With a mixture of sinking premonition and exhilaration, I watched as Ramsey feinted left, faked a pass, then started hauling ass up the middle. It was a balls-of-steel move, and Garrett and Cullen were both on board, taking off down the field and supporting Rams as he broke through our defense and cut left. Hugging the sidelines, and with the stadium roaring, he took the ball all the way to the end zone for a forty-yard touchdown run. It was a gorgeous fucking drive, a banner moment for the Rush’s season, and I couldn’t help the surge of joy I felt for them, even though it certainly spelled our demise.
A couple of players nearby shook their heads as Ramsey spiked the ball onto the turf and Garrett leapt on him. Cullen threw a fist in the air and whooped, dancing around the pair. Next to me, Coach Grant grunted in dissatisfaction.
“Reckon they’ve got it.”
“Not over yet,” I said, my attention swerving to Cullen once more. I wondered if I’d always regret not being able to be out there with him, always a little bit envious of Garrett and Ramsey playing together out in the open. But underneath all of that poor-me bullshit was a warm glow of contentment, too, that they were all three kicking ass at the sport they loved. “Their synergy is undeniable, that’s for sure.” When it came to team dynamics, Cullen, Garrett, and Ramsey were a formidable trifecta, and I suspected Coach Baker was thanking his lucky stars they’d taken a chance on Cullen.
In the end, even the excessive celebration call wasn’t enough to help us. With less than a minute left, we got the ball back and tried our best, but our final drive fell short, and the Rush clinched it and took the win. The Rush poured onto the field, back-clapping and hollering at their teammates while the Royals were good sports, except for Whitt, who stormed off, accidentally knocking against the shoulder of the reporter waving me over. I gave the reporter a leery smile and walked his way, steeling myself for questions about Cullen.
The reporter beamed as he pushed his mic toward me. “How do you feel about the performance of your wide receivers today?”
I blinked. I’d steeled myself for questions about Cullen, so his focus on the game was a pleasant surprise, this kind of question far easier to answer.
“Our receivers did a solid job today of getting open and making passes. You’re probably well aware by now that our passing game is built on timing and precision, and we’re damn good at it. Have been for years. It just so happens that the Rush is great at it, too. There are a few plays we would have liked to have had back, but we had some key catches and some great drives. Definitely a game we’ll learn from and improve on.”
“I suppose, given your relationship with Cullen Atwood, you felt a bit of divided loyalty?” He arched a brow. There it was. No way he’d miss an opportunity to sneak a Cullen reference in there. “Did it influence your coaching?”
“Not in the least.” I chuckled. “If you’re trying to imply that I might have called different plays or made decisions to favor the other team, I can assure you that’s not the case. Any chance I get to kick Cullen’s or my brother’s ass on the field is one I relish. That didn’t happen today, but I can guarantee you it will in the future. In the meantime, they fought hard for that W, and I don’t hold that against them either.” Damn, I even impressed myself with that levelheaded answer.
“Will you be celebrating the Rush’s win with them tonight?”
“If you count a cold beer and a long sleep as celebrating, then sure,” I said, then excused myself.
In the locker room, Coach did a quick recap before dismissing the guys. We’d go over tape more in depth tomorrow, I knew, but for now, they needed a break. I pulled out my phone to find a string of messages from my brother and Ramsey in our group thread, along with some from Cullen. I ignored the first, knowing it’d just be a lot of smack-talking, and opened Cullen’s.
Cullen: Appears pre-game dick pics are now good luck for me. Expect more in the future.
