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His mom had invited me to sit with them, which I’d managed for all of five seconds before I was on my feet. Zuri joked that they needed to add extra floor space for people to pace because she could tell that’s what I wanted to be doing. I just couldn’t sit still, could barely stand still, my body full of anticipation and nerves as the Rush and New Orleans had gone head-to-head in the first half.
I’d not even dared to message Tucker during halftime, when they were down by 7, because I didn’t want to risk distracting him, but he’d texted me anyway.
Tucker:So what do I get if we win this thing?
Me:Anything you want.
Tucker:Anything? (*Big eyes emoji*)
Me:Literally anything. Quit messaging me and focus on kicking ass.
Tucker:I’m a good multitasker.
Me:You feeling good? Nothing’s hurting? Ramsey’s okay?
He’d taken a hard hit during the final seconds of the second quarter.
Tucker:lol. We’re all fine, you damn worrywart. Even if I was hurting, pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to feel it. Gotta go. See you after we take this thing.
I grinned and pocketed my phone.
“How’s he holding up?” Tucker’s mom asked.
I narrowed my eyes playfully at her. “How do you know who I was texting?”
“It better only be my son, or I’ll kick your ass myself.”
I broke into laughter. “You wouldn’t have to because he’d do it first.”
“I’d get a kick in once you were down, then.” She nodded resolutely, and I threw an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I said, bending closer to her ear. “I’d kick my own ass before I’d let anyone—or anything—else get in the way of me and Tucker.”
We quieted as the teams trotted back out for the second half. The Rush evened up the score in the beginning of the third quarter and were neck and neck with New Orleans going into the fourth. I was on pins and needles the entire time, hoping for just one more fucking touchdown that would give the Rush a tiny bit more breathing room, but it wasn’t happening. Both teams fought tooth and nail, holding each other off with every turnover of the ball. As the minutes ticked by in the fourth quarter, it looked like they might head into overtime.
I’d thought I was antsy before; now, it was like I had ants crawling all over my body.
The Rush called a time-out with a minute left on the clock, and I stared at their huddle like I could hear what was being said, eyeing Tucker for any sign of exhaustion or stress.
A cool hand over the top of my own made me glance at Kayla, standing at my left. With a soft smile, she looked pointedly at the railing I was gripping. “You’re gonna dent that thing you keep squeezing it so hard. Never knew you were so high-strung.”
“I really want this for him.”
“I know. It’s one of the reasons I like you.” She patted my hand and let go with a smile.
The Rush’s offensive line took their places again. The cadence was called, and shortly after the snap,New Orleans collapsed the pocket, forcing Ramsey to make a quick decision. He sent the ball hurtling toward Ward, but it sailed just out of his reach, incomplete. Fuck.
The third down was critical, and I was back to gripping the railing as I scanned the defensive line when they took a blitz formation. This was how they’d sacked Ramsey in the second quarter, so I knew Tucker would be extra alert.
The moment the ball left Tucker’s hands, the Rush offense surged forward. Tucker slammed into a linebacker who was trying to blitz the A gap, holding the guy at bay long enough for Ramsey to read the field and send the ball to Ward, who’d manage to evade New Orleans’ defense long enough to catch the ball before he was taken down in the red zone.
Cheers erupted in the stadium, but I hardly heard them. I was focused on Tucker as he loped back into position. The Rush called another time-out, thank fuck, giving them precious minutes to regroup before the next play.
The stadium seemed eerily silent as the teams took the field again. Kayla’s cool fingers slid over mine once more. This time, they didn’t let go, and when she squeezed, I squeezed back.
“You’ve got this, baby,” I whispered as Tucker positioned himself over the massive nose tackle. I knew his heart must be pounding with adrenaline, the pressure on him enormous. I felt it like I was on the field next to him, a unique sensation of edginess and drive.
“Set! Hut!”
