WE’RE BARELY AHEAD by a touchdown at the beginning of halftime.

I got sacked so many times in the first quarter that Coach put Sam in when we gained possession in the second quarter, and I didn’t give a fuck.

Yeah, I want to win and we’re so close to that Super Bowl ring that the jeweler is on standby to take down our sizes, but with Layton on my mind, I played like a rookie. Coach was right to bench my ass.

I don’t blame her, but I sure as fuck wish Saturday night had never happened. The aftermath proved that not only adhering to my no-sex rules during the season is the best way to go, but also that Layton doesn’t want anything more than a good time from me.

I crowd around our special teams’ coach as he goes over the plays on a small white board. As soon as we’re finished, I get re-taped, then trudge to my locker to sit down and get my head where it needs to be.

“You got three and a half minutes to tell me what the fuck is wrong with you,” Dallas growls, grabbing me by the face mask and pulling me to a standing position. He’s co-captain and has the right to ask, or I’d tell him to shove a football up his ass. “You’re playing like shit, and Sam looks like he’s about to puke every time he goes out on the field.”

“Can’t get out of my head.”

“You break your rule?” His eyes hold no judgment.

“No.”

“Shit.” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should have.”

“Maybe I want more than that.” I take off my helmet, nodding at a medic to come over and give me relief for my shoulder. He helps me out of my jersey and moves around my pads. The quick sting is soon replaced by the dull bliss of pain meds. I grab a fresh jersey, then check my pants for obvious tears and unfortunate grass stain placement. While I’m not opposed to freshening up for the camera, I think it’s bullshit to go out there like I’ve not been hitting the ground. “Help me out, brother.”

With a grin, Dallas gets me into the tight jersey without being a total pussy about it. “Don’t you look pretty?”

Well, he wasn’t being one. “Need me to return the favor?”

“I’m good.” He finds a mirror and makes a face. “I do need to work on the hair though.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“You good?”

“I will be, as soon as DJ Hernandez broadcasts tonight’s playlist and you pump us up.”

An evil gleam enters Dallas’s eyes. “Not me. You, all you, brother.”

I glance around the room. Everyone’s hitting their happy place with small groups, headphones, or the like. While I might be the QB, I’ve never been the type to lead. Only bark orders when it’s time for the rubber to meet the road.

“I don’t know. That’s not my thing. That’s yours. Everyone likes you, man. They fear me.”

“Maybe it should be your thing, and maybe it’s time for people to stop fearing you. Go out this season like a legend, Aiden.” He lowers his voice. “You’re a great player, but at this moment, you got two choices—go out like a man who barked orders to get shit done, or a hero who inspired a team to follow him to victory.”

“Two-minute warning, guys,” the strength and conditioning coach calls out.

Hernandez hooks up his phone to a Bluetooth speaker, blaring The Beastie Boys Sabatoge.

Dallas catches my gaze. He’s waiting on me to call the guys in, but before I can, Coach comes to stand in the middle of the room. We all crowd around him.

“We’ve come a long way. It’s up to us to decide if we want to continue the journey or get off right here. You know what I want. I know what each one of you has been fighting for all season. This is our time... when you run back on the field, I want you to show me how you want this to end.”

Quite a few of the guys get pumped up by this.

Others look at Dallas.

Hernandez turn up the volume.

Taking a chance, I jump in the middle. “We got thirty minutes to shut out the Falcons completely from the Super Bowl. Thirty minutes to show the world that we deserve to host it. That every single one of you has played your heart out in every game, no matter how hard you were hit, how much you hurt, or how far behind we were on the scoreboard.”

A few of the players start to nod along with me.

Dallas has his game face on.

“No more sacks.”

“No more sacks,” someone echoes from the back.

“No more fumbles.”

“No more fumbles.”

“We will protect you,” Hernandez shouts.

“One team,” I shout, jumping up and down on the balls of my feet. My pulse races, and I can feel the adrenaline start to pump. “One team.”

“One team.”

“We’re not going home until we win.” I put my fist into the air. “Hands up, Renegades.”

Everyone shoves their hands in around me, screaming and jumping.

“Everything or nothing,” I scream. “Everything or nothing.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Everything or nothing.” I shout each word with every beat of my heart. It’s not just about football right now. It’s my life. It’s how I want to be remembered. “Everything or nothing. I’m staying until we win.”

“Let’s go.”

With a roar, we run to the tunnel and end up on the sideline, in front of seventy thousand fans screaming our names. If they’re rooting for the Falcons, I don’t hear it.

I don’t give a damn.

I’m here to win.

“Ready?” I ask Dallas.

“With a speech like that, I’d follow you anywhere.” We strap on our chin guards and run onto the field.

***

I’M SO STIFF AND SORE that I can barely walk in the bar, but there’s no way I’m missing our victory party at The Hibernian. A cheer goes up as the guys spot me.

“First round’s on me,” I announce.

“Figures since we’re already on round three,” Dallas says, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into the inner circle. Someone hands me a beer. He lifts his mug. “A toast to our quarterback.”

“Here, here.” Sam raises his drink. “May he always be as inspiring as he was tonight.”

“May he always go long.”

“May he always find the sweet spot.”

I raise my bottle. “May those who wish us well, find their wishes granted, and may those who wish us to hell, find their dicks shriveled.”

The guys burst out laughing.

“That’s some next-level shit,” Fred, a brickhouse of a linesman, says to me. “You’re all right, fam.”

Music starts playing. For the first time since I started playing professionally, I feel like I belong.