“You’re not pulling me from the game.” Jared stood on the sidelines, hands on hips, facing down his coach. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Foley bouncing on his heels, dying for a chance to get out there and play.
Not over Jared’s dead body would his second stringer get on that field.
“Hell yes, I am. They’re brutal out there. You can’t afford to take another sack.” Jim held his clipboard in front of his mouth, staring at the field. Their time out was almost up. “Th
e doctor said it wouldn’t be prudent letting you go back out there with so little time left. We’ll use the half to put you on ice, give you a shot, whatever the doc thinks you need. Foley’s in.”
“Fuck you. No, he’s not.” Jared spit on the grass, ground his teeth together to keep from saying more. Such bullshit. They were in Florida, playing against the Dolphins, who were notorious for going after the quarterbacks of the opposing team. That day’s game was no exception.
He’d already been sacked three times and they still had a minute left in the first half.
“They know your vulnerable spot, going straight for the shoulder every single time.” Jim shook his head. “I don’t want to pull you, but it’s doctor’s orders and I gotta listen to him, Jared. I’m not about to have you get all fucked up again by a losing team who has no chance of going to the playoffs. I hate to do this but I’m benching you till the second half. Foley! Get in there!”
“Will do, Coach.” Foley already had his helmet on and after offering a quick salute to both Walsh and Jared, he jogged out onto the field.
Muttering a string of curse words, Jared stalked off, furious at Coach Walsh’s decision. He hated being benched. It didn’t matter if they were winning by a landslide, he couldn’t stand it. Getting old sucked balls. Getting old with an aggravating injury sucked major balls.
Sucked worse that his wife had been flown out to watch him play and he was doing nothing but using his ass to warm a bench.
He glanced up into the stands, momentarily pleased to at least hear the smattering of Hawks fans among the throng of boos when they heard Foley was going in as a replacement. Raising his hand, he waved in the direction of a few navy blue hats and shirts, grinning when they cheered and waved back. A few of them called his name, one female in particular screamed, “Marry me!” and he shook his head.
He’d already done that. And fucked it up real good, too.
Ah, but he did love a crowd. And he loved the game. It was where he felt at home—on the field, with his team and his coaches, their fans cheering them on. Being on enemy ground wasn’t as thrilling, of course. The majority of the people in the stands wanted to see his team lose and lose big. The Dolphins’ defense had been strong, but so had the Hawks’. They were in the lead, and the Dolphins would have to fight like hell to win.
He felt responsible for that score, responsible for the entire team. He was their leader, the one who called the shots out on the field. They listened to him, they protected him and he took care of them for their efforts. Damn it, they were his brothers, his family.
He’d grown up watching the Hawks. They were his team, always had been. Hell, he’d gone to game after game with his dad growing up. Always wishing someday he could be out on that field playing for them.
No way could he give that up. The Hawks needed him.
And Foley could get out there and fuck it all up. The plays were different with Foley. His presence on the field could shift the entire rhythm of the team, and what if he fumbled the ball?
“Don’t let ’em get you down, boss,” said a familiar voice. “Take a break, nurse that shoulder, then get back out there and kick some ass.”
Turning, Jared found Nick Hamilton standing before him, decked out in full uniform and gear, imposing as hell. The man was the size of a mountain, a solid six-foot-four, with shoulders that could bulldoze an entire defensive line, and a face that could make grown women cry.
“It’s my shoulder.” Jared took off his helmet and shook his head, his damp-with-sweat hair flying. “Those assholes keep sacking me.”
“They’re just doing their job.” Nick shrugged.
Damn, his head wasn’t completely in the game, which pissed him off. Part of the problem? Knowing that Sheridan watched him. She usually only came to the home games.
Harvey had been all smiles when he told him she was coming, Walsh looking grim when Jared asked if he had a problem with that. He knew how his coach operated. Walsh preferred all women to stay home. When the team was out of town and at a hotel, they lived and breathed the game. If they weren’t clustered together watching film of a previous game, season, whatever, they were studying the playbook. Talking strategy. Girlfriends and groupies and hangers-on were a definite no-no. Banned even, though more than a few players knew how to sneak them in.
Once upon a time, he’d been one of those players.
But wives could occasionally slip through the net. And it looked like his wife made it through the other side.
“You’ll be fine once you get back out there.” Nick had removed his helmet already, and he ran a hand through his short, brown hair, the diamond studs in his ears flashing.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jared knew he was right. Hamilton was one of the best tight ends in the NFL. The majority of the Hawks team were top-notch, record-breaking players. That’s what happened when you were a recent Super Bowl winning team.
Made that team want to get back to the Super Bowl even more.
“He’ll put you back in,” Nick said, his voice soft, his expression…kind? “You’re the heart that keeps this team alive, man. Don’t let Foley worry you.”
Jared offered him a grim smile, surprised at his friend’s thoughtful words. They didn’t usually get too deep. “He’s gunning for my position.”