Chapter Six

Carson

Peters broke his ankle.

Those four words had rearranged my entire life. First Vex went down on the field. The next day at our practice facility, Peters hit a nasty patch of ice going up a set of concrete steps and busted his ankle. Both of them were out for the postseason and it was down to one man to carry the team.

Me.

The pack of media hounds’ questions were still ringing in my ears. But I’d managed to avoid watching any TV or listen to the radio or even check the weather. Nope, none of that mattered—the only thing that mattered was how I played on the field today.

We were less than fifteen minutes from taking the field. I sat in front of my locker and glanced around the room at my teammates going through their final routines of checking their equipment. Some were leaning against their lockers and others were pacing the floor. One thing was clear, all eyes were on me. I was far from a rookie player on the team, but had yet to take a snap all season. The one and only time I ever played in the regular season was two years ago, when we had a 47-6 lead and I was brought in to take a knee with 34 seconds left on the clock. Now, I was the starting quarterback.

I closed my eyes and ran through plays in my head, but the only one that kept replaying in my mind? The one that told me I couldn’t do this.

I was fucked.

Totally fucking fucked.

“Stiles?” Coach’s clipped bark broke through the sea of echoes in my head. I glanced his way. “If you’re gonna puke, get it the hell over with, already.”

My stomach was rolling and twisting but I hadn’t been able to eat since getting the news about Peters. I was running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine. There was nothing in my system to throw up. Which was probably for the best. “I’m good, Coach.”

It was a lie. A whopper of one. But I could feel every man around me. Their eyes were glued to me. Watching every move. Their ears perked for any sign of weakness. All their hopes and dreams were now pinned on me.

Coach stepped to my side and considered me. I held my breath as his fierce, eagle eyes raked over my face. “Come on, Son.”

We were all suited up, minutes away from going down the tunnel, but I didn’t argue. I followed Coach a few yards away from where the rest of the team was huddled, ignoring their whispers and stares.

“All right, Stiles. I know this is fucked up,” Coach started, shaking his head, as though he were still just as shell-shocked by the news of Peters as I was. “But we’re still in this thing. I know you haven’t seen any time on the field but that isn’t because I think you’re some kind of shit player.”

I forced myself to keep Coach’s fierce gaze. “I know that, Coach.”

“Good. I know you can do this. And, you’re not alone. Every one of those guys out there has seen what you’re capable of. Your name gets buzzed around more often than not. Sure, Vex is the star, the big man, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t just as capable as he is. We all know what you can do and we need you to show everyone else.” Coach slapped me on the shoulder and a smile spread across his face, warming the hard look in his eyes. “Son, you know what we have? The element of surprise. No one out there knows what you can do. The Vultures are thinking this is gonna be a fuckin’ cake walk. But we’re going to go out there and show them that not only is our season not over, but we’re fighting tooth and nail for our shot to keep going. And you…you are going to lead that charge. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good man.” He patted my shoulder once more, harder this time, as though hoping he could physically knock some of his pep talk into my body. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting, he stalked back to the rest of the team. “Huddle up, gents.”

****

Langston Rose led the team out of the tunnel and the crowd came alive. It had been snowing on and off for the last several days and today was no exception. The near zero temperature made things downright ugly. When I reached the sidelines, I grabbed a ball and started throwing passes with one of our receivers to stay warm. My eyes scanned the packed house and zoomed in on the seats I’d given to Gwen. On top of everything else, I knew there was a good chance she’d be there watching me. I hadn’t heard from her since slipping her my number at the diner, but had held out hope she’d still show up for the game. Only now, I was worried I was going to fall on my damn face in front of her.

“Head down. Keep your shit together, Stiles.”

I rolled my shoulders back and down, turning a steely-eyed glare to the field as both teams got set. The crowd was buzzing, the thundering noise insulating my rampant heart before it could careen right out of my chest. It was hard to pick out individual faces from the crowd, between the lights and the noise and the colorful signs and pom-poms but I turned a watchful eye to the section where the seats I’d been given were. My heart hammered when I spotted Gwen, standing with the rest of the crowd as we prepared to take the field. At first, I couldn’t tell if she was watching me or not, but when she wiggled her fingers and flashed a bright smile there was no doubt.

“Stiles!”

I jolted at Coach’s snapped command. “For fuck’s sake, Stiles. Get your head in the game. Coin toss. Center field. Defer and take the south if we win the toss. Let’s go.”

“Right, yeah. Coming, Coach.”

I shook my head and jogged out onto the field along with my co-captain Langston Rose. As the referee went through his instructions, I took one last look around and soaked it all in. Today was going to make or break my career, but either way, I was here now and planned to leave everything on the field of battle. The air was frosty and it looked like the meteorologist’s promise of more snow and ice was going to come true. I just hoped it would hold out for a little while longer.

****

By the two-minute warning late in the fourth quarter, the icy air materialized into powdered snow and the field was coated in frost. Both teams had multiple turnovers and equally struggled to move the ball down the field. The fans were out of it. As I glanced into the stands, I saw lots of folks heading for the exits. By some miracle, we were only down by four points, two minutes left on the game clock. We had the ball first and ten at our own twenty-five-yard line. I’d played all right up to this point, considering the weather and everything. I knew that all eyes were on me.

I was looking over plays from our two-minute drill when Langston Rose pushed his way through the group of players and coaches surrounding me. “You good, man?” Langston Rose asked, bouncing in place beside me. He rubbed his hands together to keep them warm.

I raised my own and blew a puff of hot air into them. “Yeah, man, I’m good.”

“We got this in the bag,” he said, channeling some sort of internal fountain of optimism that I couldn’t access.

I gave him a weak smile as he jogged off. Coach Wheeler came over and gave me the once over, he had a calmness about him that relaxed my nerves just a bit. “Listen, Stiles, you have hung in there like a pro today, I couldn’t have asked for more. We got two minutes on the clock and about 20,000 fans left that would love to see you rock this place. Forget it’s minus three degrees, forget that the field has turned into an ice skating rink, and whatever you do, don’t think about the piece of ass you keep looking up at in the stands over there. It’s time to go out there and play the game you love so much. Leave the B.S. right here, play smart and don’t give up the football.”

It was now or never. Man the fuck up, or go home.

As I waited for play to resume, I tossed a glance over my shoulder and a blast of warmth spread through me when I saw that Gwen was still up in the stands. It was hard to be certain as the snow came down harder but she was easy to spot. Most of the fans in her section had headed for the exits a while ago. She was there, smiling and clapping with the other diehard fans who would stick out every last second—frost or no frost.

We quickly moved the ball up the field and with twenty-eight seconds left on the clock, I hit Paul Anderson on a post route down to the Vultures twenty-yard line. We were out of time outs and the clock was ticking. I quickly lined up my team and then looked up at the clock, this was it—last play. I took the snap and dropped back to pass.

I looked to the left and then to the right. There weren’t any options. Two of my receivers lost their footing and were on the ground.

There was only one person they weren’t on top of...

Me.

I tucked the ball in tight and took off like I’d just hitched a ride on a cruise control missile. My target—the end zone. I dodged the Vultures as they scrambled to catch me. I could almost see the shock on their faces as I cruised by. I was a nobody. A fuckin’ stand-in. I wasn’t supposed to be able to run a quarterback keeper in clutch time.

I took on a huge middle linebacker head on and sent him flying as I crossed the goal line for the winning score. Nobody saw that coming. I roared a cheer of victory as I ran along the back of the end zone. I didn’t have a fancy touchdown dance, so I did a victory lap as the crowd came alive cheering our first playoff victory.

My shoulder was gonna hurt in the morning from that hit, but I didn’t give a damn, it was more than worth it.