Don't Promise (Don't 3)

I’ve added a few more books for your reading pleasure.

Thanks for reading!

XOXO,

Violet

No Boundaries

Copyright © 2016 by Violet Paige

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover by Silverheart Designs

1

Kane

It was seventeen to thirteen and we had the ball. Bottom of the fourth quarter, with less than a minute left on the clock and zero time outs remaining.

That was my moment. The moment I lived for. The moment I always played for.

Coach called for a screenplay and we lined left. The fat fucker across from me lifted his head and pointed directly at me. Mistake. I knew he was coming for me.

I glanced at Aaron on my right and then Joe on my left. They both nodded, letting me know they had my back. No one would get through them.

“Down set. Hut one. Hut two. Hike,” I called.

I caught the ball as the center spiked it backward between his legs. I took a step back and tapped the ball, searching the field for an open player. I scanned from one side to the other.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No one was open.

Some people panic in moments like that, but not me.

/> The adrenaline pumped through my veins and I saw the field with perfect clarity. Every one of my teammates was covered. Two guys barreled down on me fast from the right as my head jerked the opposite way. That was when my focus was the sharpest. When I could see what no one else could. The tiniest opening just to my left ahead about three yards.

I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t afford to second-guess my gut. Ever.

My feet kicked into gear, racing against time, against the defense, and against the clock. I squeezed through the sliver of space and then swerved to the right, avoiding the arms of a grizzly linebacker. I could see the end zone ahead. The goal post beckoning me like a lover’s arms.

Ten yards to go.

Five.

Two.

I crossed the line of white chalk, hurling my body forward. The stadium erupted in screams and cheers. I was pretty damn sure they were chanting my name after that touchdown.

The team rushed the field and somewhere, one of the guys poured a jug of Gatorade over the coach’s head in fun. I was clapped on the shoulder and smacked on the ass so many times I lost count as we made our way to the locker room.