Relief is what I feel when I glance down at Justice sleeping on my chest, her creamy white skin flawless and smooth. I should be thinking about today. The day we’ve all worked so hard for. Today is opening day, and yet my mind drifts the way it always does when I let the people who matter to me the most down. I don’t dare move, knowing the woman could sleep twenty-four hours and still be exhausted. Even with her parents and Roan being here this week to help, she’s pushed herself hard, and it’s starting to take a toll on her.

I will never forget the hurtful look on her face. Her eyebrows pinched together, an overwhelming sadness suspended in her eyes. Tears threatening at any moment to fall on her cheeks when I accused her of sleeping with Carson. The absurdity that attacked me out of nowhere got the best of me.

I climbed out of bed the next morning from staring at my darkened ceiling all night after accusing her to find my dad sitting at my kitchen table with a look of displeasure all over him. It was caused by me and my failed expectations of the man I was raised to be. I didn’t tell him what I said to Justice, knew if I did, the man would knock me on my ass. Didn’t want to tell him a thing, but I owed him and my mom the truth. I barely got a word out before he gazed up at me and laid into my ass as if he had heard the words Carson had said to me.

“Not only will you let the team and the Diamond family down if you allow that man to live in your head, but you'll also let the fans down, people who believe in you, and you’ll let yourself down. I didn’t raise you to be a man like him. I raised you to walk on the right side. I’m not going to preach to you, give you a lesson between right and wrong. You know what’s right. You have a problem with that man, then you take it somewhere else. Don’t you disrespect the people who put you where you are today. Above all else, don’t you disrespect yourself.”

I stood there, father to son, and nodded. He was right, and I was wrong. I acted like a young boy and not the man he raised me to be. Before I did anything, though, I needed to set things right with the woman I love, and I did. We’ve been bonding, telling stories, laughing and getting to know one another all week long.

“You’re tense,” Justice says. Her beautiful eyes peek up at me. Arms stretching above her head exposing her hard pink nipples.

“Game day, baby. I’ll relax the second I have the ball in my hands.”

She obviously has another way to ease my tension as she flips off the covers, slides down my body, and settles herself between my legs. One hand gripping my already hardening cock, the other delicately tracing fingertips over my balls.

“I have the game day balls right here.”

“Fuck,” I mumble when she pumps me a few times, dips her head, and pulls me into her mouth.

I could come from the sight of her mouth wrapped around me. My eyes roll to the back of my head when she sucks all of me in her mouth, then swipes her tongue up and repeats the process all over again.

Gathering her hair in my hand in order to watch her, I groan when those blazing inferno eyes catch mine. I concentrate on her mouth, the way she takes it all, swirls her tongue, cheeks suctioning in and out.

“So fucking beautiful.” I bite down on my bottom lip.

The woman is blowing my mind as well as my dick. Powerful and precise in every decision she makes. I’m proud of her, and I’m not thinking that way because of what she’s doing.

The nerve endings at the base of dick pulse in the palm of her hand. She teases with tiny circles of her tongue one way and then the other down the length of me, causing me to resist no longer and slamming my hips into her mouth.

“Goddamn, that fucking mouth of yours!” I belt out, hand gripping her hair tighter, stomach tensing. All I can do is throw my head back against the wooden headboard, my cock aching for that release, and enjoy her tantalizing mouth. A few pumps of her hand, and I come so fucking hard that all the tension inside of me is gone.

“Game day tradition, Blake. Now, let’s get ready for some football.” Justice wipes at the corner of her mouth and shoots me a dazzling smile.

“Shower, then you’re going to be sneaking your sexy ass right out of this hotel room.” I pull her up to me until she’s straddling my lap. Our lips connect, and the shower is long forgotten.

* * *

The tension in the locker room is thick with pent-up nerves for the opening game. Every single player is in his own zone. The door leading to the locker room swings wide open, and in walks the head of our team. Coach Wiley. One hell of a respected man in this industry.

The man is determined with his game face painted firmly in place. All of the assistant coaches flank his sides. He stops in the middle of the room and lets out a loud whistle, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Listen up.” He waits for a beat until everyone’s attention is on him. “Today is the day we’ve all been training our asses for. For some of you, it may be your hundredth game, and others, it’s their debut in the league. However, we all have one thing in common, and that’s our heart and love for the team. Idaho Diamonds was started with a vision to bring greatness to Idaho, and now it’s our job to make that dream a reality. Play smart. Play with your heart. And keep your eyes set on the final goal. Everyone huddle in.”

Coach places his fist up in the air, and we all follow suit until we are in a circle, hands connected. The intensity heightened beyond measure. I’ve been in numerous locker rooms and have heard speech after speech. This one is different. I don’t know why and can’t explain, but something big is on the horizon.

“Unity on three,” Coach barks out. “One, two, three!”

“Unity!” we all roar.

And just like that, we are sealed as a team with one main focus. Victory. I lead the team out of the locker room, helmet in hand. I wave the other two captains up to my side, and we lock elbows. I may be the leader, but these men are the backbone. I’ve never been one to lead my team out as if I was more important than the rest. I’m not, never will be. This is a team sport, and I firmly believe there isn’t an “I” in team.

“Holy shit,” Williams says in awe, taking in the stadium from the opening of the tunnel.

I chuckle. “Get used to it, rookie.”

“It’s our day, boys. It’s our goddamn day!” A roar comes from the back of the team.

With that and the announcing of our name, I move into the beautiful chaos of the Diamonds Stadium. The crowd bringing us further to life as we jog out onto the field. Our field. The field we are making our home and will bring championships to. Fuck, I’ve missed this feeling. The crowd’s cheers and game day vibes fuel me. It’s what I’m made of.

By the time we make it to the sidelines, I’m ushered over to an ESPN reporter. This time I’m not pissy about it. It happens at every single game, and I’m no fool that the eyes of the nation will be on me today. I played a handful of plays during the preseason. Today it’s all on me. No secret to anyone who knows football that the quarterback takes the brunt from every offensive play. Good or bad. I’ve got four quarters to shut up the haters, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

“You have such a bright future. Aren’t you afraid of re-injuring your arm?” John McKenzie, one of the classiest reporters in the NFL, asks. His question isn’t rude in any way, shape, or form. He’s one of the sincerest men I know. Takes his job as well as every player to heart, and he’s one of the few who keep my pre-game interview strictly to football. He never brings up the out-of-bounds topics that offend the players or coaches.

“I think I can speak for most players who are knocked down several times throughout their career. Playing this position will never help my long-term aches and pains. It’s my love for this game. The love I have for the people who put me here that takes me to a better place. My body is stronger than it’s ever been. My mind is in a good place. Enjoy the game.” I shake his hand, salute the audience, and place my helmet on my head.

I’m more nervous than I’ll admit. However, the nerves fly out of this stadium when the fans start chanting “Idaho Diamonds” over and over until the whistle blows and the special team from Detroit take their place on the field. I glance up to the skybox, and even though it seems to be miles up in the air, I find her. Bright blonde hair is flowing around her. I place my hand on my chest and watch her do the same thing. I’ve never been so grounded in my entire life as I am today.

I’m just a man made of flesh and bones who has been given everything, and now it’s on me to take full advantage of it. At one point in my life, there was never an option. My career was over. Justice Bexley took everything from me with that note, and now she’s given me the world. There’s no way in hell I’ll throw that away. I’m human. I’ll fuck up daily, but I’m man enough to admit to my mistakes.

I look over my shoulder to see my dad with his aviators over his eyes and flicking sunflower seeds out on the sidelines. He gives me a nod, and I send one back in his direction. Everything that needs to be said has been with that simple action.

I put on my helmet. The offensive coach begins calling out plays. We take the field, my offensive line leading the way. We huddle up, and I call out the play. There’s all sorts of shit talking from the defense. I ignore it.

Huddleston, the center, hikes the ball back to me. I scramble back in the pocket looking for a wide-open receiver. Once I spot number twenty-two, I hitch the ball back and send it spiraling over twenty yards. A force from the left blindsides me, taking me down. My helmet bounces off the turf. My ribs and spine creak and crack with the brutal force to my body. The roar of the crowd lets me know he caught it.

“You son of a bitch.” Anger flares through me.

I’d recognize Gus’s voice anywhere. He’s pissed. I take a teammate’s hand and internally chuckle when I see men from both teams going at it. Refs get in the way, breaking up the scuttle. Yellow penalty flags fly up in the air. I grab big Gus by his jersey, yanking him to my chest.

“Head on, motherfucker.” I jerk him one more time. “Play with your head.”

“Asshole hit you late.” Spit flies from his helmet. He doesn’t tell me something I don’t already know.

“Play smart, Gus,” I repeat.

“Personal foul on the defense number sixty-one. Fifteen-yard penalty from the catch on the field.”

We huddle up again. “Keep your head straight. Every fucking team is going to come after me. Instead of wasting your time fucking fighting, block for Turner and me.” I slap Gus’s helmet. “Wildcat,” I call out, clap my hands three times, and take formation.

“You okay, boss?” Gus turns and asks.

I give him a stern nod. Not about to tell him my fucking bell was rung. The center hikes the ball. I look left. Detroit’s defense picks up on it with ease, almost too fast. Turner, our running back, is blocked. I look downfield and see two open receivers. I react before thinking it through, hiking my arm back and letting go of the ball. I hit Harris right between his numbers. He catches the ball with ease and takes advantage of the wide-open field.  

I catch action out of the corner of my vision to see Gus laying out a defensive lineman coming for me. The crowd goes wild, and that’s when I look up the field to see my man in the end zone.

Chills break out. I soak in the moment, relishing in the feeling of being back at it and slaying it. I go over to Gus to help his ass up. He’s not done with his Detroit guy.

“How do you like ‘dem apples?” Gus throws his arms out to his side. “Touch my QB, and you won’t get up again.”

I grab his jersey, tugging him off the field. We trot to the sidelines. I glance over at him shaking my head.

“’Dem apples? Really, Gus?” I can’t help the laughter that escapes. “Fucking acting like we are playing fifth-grade ball again.”

“Bitch better have learned his lesson.”

Our defense takes the field, and just like our offensive, they play as a family, a band of brothers with one final destiny in mind. We never get much of a break the entire game, since the defense causes turnover after turnover. I’m pulled from the game in the fourth quarter with the score being forty-nine to three. Detroit has lots of big names, so to be winning with this big of an advantage is really something.

All through the fourth quarter, I have the playbook open talking to Jameson, the backup quarterback. The kid is killing it, and I couldn’t be happier for him. Once the game clock reads zero, the insanity commences. We cross the field as a team. I hug several old friends from college and ones I met while playing in the league. The rushed words of encouragements and slaps on the back fuel on my sore-as-hell body.

A reporter catches me before I make it to the tunnel.

“Blake, you played phenomenally. Best we’ve seen. What do you attribute it to?”

I grip my helmet struggling like a little bitch to rein in my emotions that are at an all-time high. “This team. This stadium. And the Diamond family who took a huge risk on me. It’s the environment.”

“Some would say you carried this team right into their first victory—”

I cut her off. “That’s not the case at all. Like I said, it’s the team, the stadium, the fans, and the Diamond family who brought together the best of the best.”

She nods. “Thanks, Blake. Always a pleasure to watch the true model of a team player.”

“Well, Katie, it’s a team sport.” I wink into the camera, then jog off the field straight back to the locker room.

Coach gives his speech and awards the game ball to Gus. I slap him on the back knowing there couldn’t be a better guy to have on my line. That man protects what’s his with ferocity. I shower and rush out of the locker room. I have a little blonde bombshell on my mind, and we have some serious celebrating to do.