Game For Tonight (Game for It 3)

“Oh God!” Willow was a shouter when it came to watching the games. She made Aubrey jump every single time she yelled. “I think they’re going to try to run it.”

Aubrey watched the field, her gaze zeroed in on Flynn. Her heart was in her throat, and her pulse hammered through her veins, buzzing in her ears and brain. She felt faint. Faint. All over a freaking football game. Everything was on the line. The entire season came down to this one final moment, and it was all on Flynn’s broad shoulders to carry it through.

She didn’t know how he could take it.

Willow’s phone dinged with a text, and with a mumbled curse, she pulled her iPhone out of her pocket, her eyes going wide when she read the message. “Sheridan’s okay,” she breathed, lifting her head so their gazes met.

Relief made Aubrey’s head spin. She didn’t know if she could take much more. “That’s good news,” she said weakly.

Another message pinged through, and Willow muttered, “You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Aubrey shook her arm, her eyes glued to Flynn as he threw a ball out-of-bounds. Not so scarily accurate.

She really needed to stop thinking like that.

“She’s going to have twins,” Willow whispered. “They did an ultrasound. Twins.” She burst out laughing and shook her head. “Figures Jared would shoot double.”

Charlie Monroe took that particular moment to turn around and study them both. “What did you say, young lady?” Half the time Aubrey figured Charlie didn’t recognize the majority of the players’ wives and girlfriends, though he should know Willow, since Charlie was friends with her father, Walter.

“Jared Quinn’s wife is fine.” Willow smiled at him. “She’s healthy, but she needs to remain on bed rest for a little while, maybe throughout the entire pregnancy.”

“Did you mention twins?” He swung his head in Aubrey’s direction. “The minute the game is over, you make sure and announce that.”

“Only if Jared gives us permission,” she said, not about to go against the star quarterback’s wishes. This was his private life they were talking about, after all. She didn’t want this situation to turn into a fiasco. He deserved respect. They all did. Even Flynn.

Especially Flynn.

Charlie made a grumpy noise and turned to watch the game once more. They were going to make another play. Another drive down the field. Flynn stood tall, the ball in his hand, over his head as he prepared to send it flying through the air, and Willow grabbed hold of her, smashing her face against Aubrey’s shoulder.

“I can’t watch,” Willow said, though Aubrey knew without a doubt she was definitely watching.

And so was she.

…

Flynn threw the ball, his gaze never leaving it as it sailed through the air…

And landed in Nick Hamilton’s wide-open hands.

He turned and ran, while Flynn bounced on his feet as he watched. The clock was ticking, the crowd was going wild, and all the air was stuck in Flynn’s throat as Hamilton plowed through the defensive linemen, his legs eating up the yardage when he ran straight into the end zone.

And scored a touchdown.

“Fuck yeah!” Flynn roared as he started running down the field. He had to go grab Hamilton and give him some love, because that play had been amazing. They’d scored with less than fifteen seconds on the clock. This was it. A kick for the remaining point, and they were done.

They’d won the biggest game of the season.

His other teammates slapped him on the back, offering happy shouts, and he yelled back his congratulations, euphoria filling him up and making his chest light. He slowed to a jog, saw that Nick was heading right for him, and they embraced, their shoulder pads knocking against each other. Nick slapped Flynn’s helmet, and Flynn backed away from him, tearing off his helmet so he could look around the stadium.

He wanted to soak up this moment. Savor it. Camera flashes were going off. The crowd was one giant, moving mass of people, some of them booing but the majority of them cheering. Yelling and screaming and bouncing in their seats.

Flynn loved every fucking minute of it. He was grinning so hard his face hurt. He would never forget this moment. Ever.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Nick said with a matching giant grin.

The team went back into formation and the final ball was kicked, giving the Hawks the last point. The moment the game was declared over, the field was flooded with people offering their congratulations, the media coming at him like a swarm, ready to take him over. He talked to a few, nodding and smiling and saying inane things because, holy hell, he could hardly concentrate. His team had just won the freaking Super Bowl.

Someone from NBC approached him and started talking, asking all the usual questions, and Flynn gave him the usual answers. He knew millions of people were watching. Hell, he could hear his voice echoing all over the stadium, since they were broadcasting the interview live to all the Super Bowl attendees, and he hoped he didn’t sound like an idiot. This was his dream, finally come to life, and he hoped his dad saw it. And his mom. Was she crying? Was his dad crying?