I watch the other NFL teams’ playoff games throughout the next couple weeks. The Giants—and Elijah—are playing really well.

But so are we.

By the time February rolls around, the schedule is set. It’s exactly what I wanted, and what I was scared of at the same time. Elijah and I will be facing off for the Super Bowl, and for the ultimate sibling bragging rights.

All week, my stomach is a bundle of nerves. This is my shot at a ring—at a championship. And the way my career is going, it might be my only shot. My father’s words are ringing in my ears, and I know that this year means everything.

But it’s more than that.

I want to beat Elijah.

Call me immature, but something in the pit of my stomach just wants to beat him so badly that he can’t look at me with that stupid smirk of his.

Yes, I want to be a champion. Yes, I want to lead my team to victory.

But deep down inside, I just want to beat my brother.

He’s always had it easy. He’s always gotten what he wanted and he’s never appreciated it. And now? Now is my chance to beat him.

And by beating him, my team would also secure the Patriots’ place in the history of the sport.

We fly in to New Jersey on our team’s private planes two days before the Super Bowl. The team bought two Boeing 767’s back in 2017, and it makes air travel nice and comfortable. Comfort doesn’t help to ease my nerves, though.

The morning of the Super Bowl, I get up early. My lucky underwear is clean and pressed in my suitcase, and I pull it on with a deep breath.

This is it.

I eat my usual game-day breakfast: a big bowl of oats with protein powder, three eggs, and a big cup of coffee. It’s enough food to get me through the morning and ready to warm up. I’ll eat again before the game, but for now it’s all about the ritual.

By the time I’m warming up with the team at the practice field, my nerves are starting to settle.

We can do this.

We can win.

I won’t be washed up and alone, I’ll be a fucking champion.

When we get to the MetLife stadium, the buzz of game day is all around. We get off the bus and start filing towards the back entrance of the stadium. There are security guards all around, but a few clever fans have still found the back entrance and are lining up for autographs. A photographer snaps a picture of me when I step off the bus.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small white Porsche park up. I glance over and my eyebrows twitch upwards as a beautiful, tall brunette gets out of the car. It’s not just any beautiful brunette—it’s Farrah. She grabs something from the back seat of her car and starts heading in the same direction as me, towards the entrance.

I jog ahead and catch up to her.

“Farrah!” I call out as she shows her pass to the security guard. She turns towards me and that gorgeous smile of hers brightens her face. I’m thrown off balance.

I come to a stop in front of her, nodding to the security guard as I lean down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Jesse,” she smiles. “I’m not sure I should be talking to you right now. Fraternizing with the enemy and all.”

“I think we can make an exception,” I grin. Jordan walks by and elbows me on his way past. I ignore him. “What are you doing back here?”

“Oh, Elijah forgot his lucky glove,” she says, holding up a plastic bag. “Doesn’t play without it.”

“Cute,” I grin, touching the waistband of my underwear. “Doesn’t the team have someone to handle the gear?” We start walking down the hallway side by side. Farrah laughs, glancing at me.

“He doesn’t trust them with this. It smells so bad that I have to keep it locked away in the bottom of a cupboard, but he still brings it home after every game.”

“The old glove smell,” I laugh. “I know it well. Makes your hands smell terrible.”

“You don’t have to tell me about that,” Farrah laugh, nudging my shoulder with hers. “One time I tried scrubbing his hands with nail polish remover and the smell still wouldn’t come out.”

I laugh, nodding to a security guard at a corner and we keep walking. I know my teammates are listening to every word I say, but I don’t really care.

“I’ve honestly tried everything to get the smell off his hands, but he won’t let me wash the gloves,” she laughs, holding the bag out in front of her. “It’s a problem.”

Farrah looks over at me and flashes me a smile. My legs go numb. How does she do that? She looks up at a sign, and then points to a nearby door.

“I think he said he was in here,” she says. “Good luck today. Even though I’m not supposed to say that.”

“Thanks,” I say. I want to keep talking to her, but she just nods to me and turns towards the door.

I’m only a couple feet away when I hear her voice again. It’s shrill, and shocked, and loud.

“What the fuck?!”

I turn to see her in the doorway. The plastic bag with Elijah’s glove is on the floor at her feet. I pause, watching her in the doorway. She’s holding the doorknob and her whole body is trembling. Her cheeks have gone red, and her eyes are blazing.

I take a step closer. My whole body is on edge.

“What the fuck is going on?! What are you doing in here with her?!”

My stomach drops.

Fucking Elijah.

I already know what’s going on in that room. It’s the same thing that always happens with Elijah. He just doesn’t know a good thing if it smacks him in the face. Maybe I should fucking smack him in the face. I take another step towards the door. I can almost feel the anger radiating off Farrah.

I want to go to her. The protective, alpha-male instinct in me rears up, and I feel like I could murder my brother.

Farrah leans down and picks up the bag with the lucky glove in it, hurling it through the doorway.

“There is your stupid glove. I hope you fucking lose today.” She turns and sees me, and her eyes are full of tears. Her mouth pinches together and she turns back towards the room.

“Oh, and Carmen? Don’t get involved with him. If he cheated on me, he’ll cheat on you. He’s a fucking dirtbag. We’re done. By the time you come home tonight, I’ll have moved out. Goodbye, Elijah.”

She glances at me and takes a step towards me. “You better win that fucking game, Jesse. Beat that son of a bitch brother of yours to a pulp.” Her eyes are blazing, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She has tears in her eyes, but through them, I can see her strength.

“I will.”

She nods, then turns around and marches down the hallway. I watch her go and my heart flips. I don’t know if I’m happy she’s breaking up with my brother, or sad that she’s in pain. Elijah appears in the doorway, calling after her. He sees me and his face turns to a snarl.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

A little blonde head appears behind him. One of their cheerleaders—typical. I just shake my head.

“Oh, fuck off, Jesse. Get ready to lose today,” Elijah spits.

“You’ve already lost, brother,” I say sadly. “She was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“Fuck you.”

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Jordan. He nods down the hallway, and I let him drag me away. Cold, black anger curls in my heart as I walk away from my brother. All I want to do is go after Farrah. The thought of her alone and hurting makes my stomach turn.

But I can’t. I’m here to play a game, not to deal with my brother’s failed relationships.

The only thing I can do now is to win. I’ll win for Farrah, so at least she can watch that cheating scumbag lose the most important game of his life.

The stakes just got a hell of a lot higher.