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CHAPTER ONE
JAKE
Every dream can carry the weight of the world.
My grandfather’s words stick in my mind, and I feel the pressure, my heart pounding in my chest as I face the biggest game yet. My palms are sweaty.
Today’s the day that’ll either make or break me—my debut game for the University of Central State Eagles. As their fresh quarterback, it feels like the world’s eyes will be zeroed in on me.
Ryan’s at the wheel, steering us toward the stadium, seeing the university bus had broken down, and we couldn’t be bothered to wait. He’s my best friend for many reasons, like going out of his way to ensure I’m not late. It helps that he’s playing in the same match.
The air’s charged today, and despite the clear late afternoon sky, we could easily be driving into a storm with how wound up I feel. I’m hoping the pre-game practice will loosen me up.
“You’ve got this, Jake. I know it.” He cuts me a glance, grinning.
“Man, wish I had half your confidence right now. I’m a fucking mess of nerves.”
“You’ve trained. You have the talent. What are you worried about?”
I sigh, staring out as we pass through the city.
“It’s fucking Tyler, man. He’s been on my case, turning the team against me.” Damn, the senior quarterback is a dick and has had it in for me from the moment I started training with the team. Being the newest recruit means I have to work harder to find my place, to show them I’m fucking amazing. Tyler’s been making sure I come across as an idiot any chance he gets. I’ve been close to ripping his head off on the training field, but that’s the last thing I need—fighting my own team.
Tonight’s game isn’t just about football. It’s about the scouts from the Elite Football Alliance in the stands, about a contract that could change everything. It’s about my mom’s medical bills piling up and the weight of expectations that feel like a mountain on my shoulders.
“Don’t pay attention,” Ryan says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Tyler’s a dick. He’s just threatened, dude. Think about it. He’s the senior quarterback, and he’s playing well, yet he hasn’t gotten an offer from EFL. That says a lot. While, you’re the new guy and already stealing the spotlight. He’s fucking jealous, man.” Ryan turns the steering wheel, driving us into the parking area, where he finds a parking spot.
I nod, even if he’s not looking my way. I just want to play and prove I belong here.
My phone rings, and I grab it out of my pocket. It’s Brad, my little brother. Why’s he calling now? He’s on the same path as me, spending all his time training for his football team back home, and rarely calls during the week. Difference between us is that his grades are a constant battle, opposite to mine.
As I step out of the car, the stadium looming ahead. I answer his call.
“Jake?” Brad’s voice crackles through the phone, sounding slightly high-pitched, alarmed. My stomach tightens.
“What’s up, Brad?” I ask, my voice clipped and tight. I shoulder my bag and wave Ryan toward the stadium. His brows pinch together with a silent question on his face. “It’s nothing, man. Go ahead,” I insist, then refocus on my phone call.
“It’s Mom,” Jake says. “She’s sicker today. Fuck, I’m worried.” His voice cracks, lifting the hairs on my arms at my own concern.
That churning feeling in my gut deepens. Yesterday, Mom sounded tired on the phone, but I brushed it off. Now, with Brad’s concern, alarm bells are going off in my head. She’s always been tough and pulled through. Am I just over-worrying?
“We’ve got to give her time,” I say, unsure if I’m trying to convince myself or him. Our family’s been haunted by cancer, a shadow that lurks in all of our shadows, and I fucking hate it. My instinct is to dart back home to visit her, check on her, and take her to the doctor again. Except I’m trying to make it big in football to pay off the mountain of medical bills she’s accumulated and can’t cover.
“What if she’s not okay?” my brother asks.
My thoughts spiral at Brad’s worry, but I can’t do this now. I can’t go into the game unfocused.
“Look, don’t worry, think positive. Gotta go, Brad. Game’s about to start. We’ll talk soon after, okay?”
“Of course. Good luck with the game.” He cuts the call, and a chill races up my back, which has nothing to do with the cold in the night air.
Standing in the middle of the parking area, I suck in several deep inhales, needing to ground myself, not drown under the weight of the importance of the game or my mom’s health. Or that her cancer might have returned.
She only came out of remission last year, and even though she acts as if she’s one hundred percent, I know she often puts on a brave face, so we won’t worry.
Squaring my shoulders, I start toward the stadium where Ryan will be waiting, needing to leave everything off the field. Easier said than done…
In the changing room, Ryan’s words drag me out of my fog of worries.
