I felt my knee the second I got on the turf.

I’d been fine all week. Stressed, sure, but my knee hadn’t been bad. But for some reason, as soon as I stepped out there, ready to perform, the pain flared up. I could feel it all through my leg, sharp and stinging.

I couldn’t back down, though. We lost the coin toss and received the ball first, so I was out in the formation immediately, ready to take my first carry.

There was nothing like getting that ball in my hands and running right up the fucking gut. I loved bursting through guys, dropping my shoulder and leading with my head. The only thing comparable was feeling Taylor’s tight pussy wrapped around my cock as I fucked her in the hot tub.

I hit that pile on my first carry and was tackled almost immediately. Pain flared, but I swallowed it, ignored it. I went back to work.

Carry after carry. I wasn’t getting much open running room, so I had to grind for every fucking inch. Brutal, physical, and painful, I played that game with everything I had.

We were losing at halftime. The coach was pissed, mostly at the offensive line. They weren’t getting a good push off, so there were no gaps opening for me to run through. I was getting short gains, maybe four yards, and my best run was only for ten yards. It was rough and slow going, and our passing offense wasn’t doing much better.

The second half rolled around. I caught Taylor watching me as I trotted out onto the field for our first possession. We were down by two touchdowns. I could tell she knew something was up with me. She was concerned, but she wasn’t saying anything.

I knew she could go to the coach and tell him right away. If she did, she might get in some trouble, but I’d be pulled from the game for sure. He wasn’t going to risk his star player.

But I had my reasons for staying. I had a lot of money riding on this game, and I wasn’t sure what would happen if we actually lost. I needed to get out there and make something happen.

I was desperate. Play after play, I put my body on the line, my whole career on the line, and we kept getting pushed back. I could feel the game turning away from us, moving in the opposite direction.

The third quarter ended, and we were still down by two touchdowns. I was gaining nothing, and my knee still ached.

Fourth quarter started. I was given the ball on the thirty-yard line. I saw a gap between the center and the right guard and hit it hard, bursting past the linebacker that came to fill the gap, slamming him over. I felt something in my knee tweak, but I just kept running. I saw open field ahead of me.

Ten yards, twenty yards. I could smell the fucking end zone.

And then a burning, screaming pain shot up my leg and I was tumbling over, sliding along the grass.

It took me a second to realize what had happened. As I lay there listening to the scream of the crowd, I realized that someone had caught up and tripped me up from behind.

One of my linemen helped me to my feet. Pain flared up along my knee.

I had to make a choice. We were on the edge of the end zone, but my knee was in serious pain. I knew that if I ignored it, I could do real damage.

I looked around and listened. I caught Taylor’s eye on the sidelines, and she shook her head. “Don’t,” she mouthed.

She knew what had happened. She could see it in the way I was standing. I went into the huddle, and I had one second to make my choice.

The play came through. It was a running play right up the gut. Coach wanted me to find the end zone, finish my run up. He was trusting me with this, one of the most important plays of the game.

If we failed to make it into the end zone here and settled for the field goal, we were likely doomed. But we had enough time to catch them, or maybe even snag a win, if I went for it here.

Then again, if I went for it and succeeded but blew out my knee, I’d be done for the season. My whole career was riding on this moment, and I didn’t know what to do.

The team was looking at me. I had to acknowledge that I’d heard the play and was ready to go before we could break. The play clock was ticking down.

“Let’s fucking do this,” I said, and we broke.

I glanced at Taylor again, but she was looking away.

We got into formation. We were in the I-formation, with the quarterback under center, a big boy behind him, and me behind that big boy, ready to get the ball.

Noah took the snap. The big boy cleared ahead, slamming into the line. I pushed off, running hard, ignoring the pain. I took the ball from Noah and surged forward.

But there was a pile of bodies ahead of me.

I couldn’t stop and cut back. I knew my knee couldn’t take that kind of abuse. I wouldn’t be quick enough, not with the pain shooting up my side.

It was straight ahead or nothing.

I burst forward, dropping my shoulder and my head, and dove through the air.

There was no going through that pile. There was no going around it.

I dove into the air, flying above the bodies below me. I put my own body on the line for this as I sailed.

Ahead of me, a linebacker came to meet me. He jumped and tried to tackle me back, slamming me midair.

But it was too late. I slammed into him, and my momentum carried us both forward. I hit the ground on the other side of the pile and rolled into the end zone.

The crowd exploded around me. I was pulled to my feet by my teammates, but I could barely walk. Pain flared all over me as I made my way to the sidelines. I wanted to celebrate, but the pain stopped me.

The support staff was all over me instantly. It was obvious that something was wrong with me. I had scored the touchdown, but I was shaken up.

Taylor was with the staff that checked me out. She frowned, helping, but didn’t say a word to me.

“Good play, son,” Coach Kelly said. “Now you rest. We’ll finish this off.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

I was carried to the benches while the lead doctor took a look at my knee.

“Swelling,” he said. “How painful?”

“Not too bad,” I said.

“Don’t lie,” Taylor interrupted.

I looked at her. “I can still play.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you can.”

I looked at the doctor. “Give me a pain shot, whatever you have to do. I can still play.”

He frowned. “No. You’re out for the rest of this game, hopefully not for the rest of the season.”

I leaned back against the bench and looked up at the crowd. They were cheering again as my touchdown was played over and over on the big screen.

“Fuck,” I said, and let out a breath.