The Game You Play (Rixon Raiders 2)

The feeling of never quite being good enough, even though you thought you gave your all.

But the truth was my head wasn’t in it tonight. Too consumed with Thatcher’s latest threat. With Felicity’s sea-green gaze every time she’d looked my way at school. I couldn’t tell anyone about Thatcher though. Until I figured out what the fuck to do, I had to lie and pretend everything was fine.

Everything was not fucking fine.

It was falling to shit around me. The pieces of my carefully constructed world falling apart all because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants and out of the girl who made me fucking crazy.

“I know all about the sacrifice and dedication; the blood, sweat, and tears that go into winning a State Championship,” Dad flashed his championship ring to his enthralled audience, “that’s why I know you’ll bring it home this season. Because you’re fighters. Because you’re the best. Because you’re Raiders. And Raiders—”

“Never quit,” rang out around me, reverberating through me, stoking a fire in my soul. Even though I was pissed, even though this was the last place on Earth I wanted to be right now, it didn’t matter. Football was in my blood, part of my DNA, and when my teammates and our supporters cheered our name, it called to something inside me.

My eyes found Felicity across the yard. She was watching me, a faint smile gracing her lips. Why she was here I had no fucking idea, but deep down, I wanted to believe she came for me. Not that I could ever tell her that.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to wrap this up so we can get to the good stuff.”

“Yeah, Mrs. H’s chicken wings,” someone yelled, earning him a round of hoots and hollers.

Dad grabbed his drink off the lectern and raised it high. “To the seniors of 2019. May your futures be filled with opportunity, success, and most of all… football.”

The place erupted, everyone cheering for the man I hated so much I could barely look at him. It probably wasn’t healthy, the amount of resentment and bitterness I carried around with me, but I didn’t know how to let go.

I didn’t know how to forgive him.

Parents were supposed to set the standard. They were supposed to help shape us into the adults we would one day become. Which meant I could look forward to becoming a cheating son of a bitch who cared more about looking good in front of his town, and getting his dick wet, than his family.

The man of the moment approached me. “Jason,” he stuck out his hand. “I’m proud of you, Son. So damn proud.”

I stared at his hand, wishing I could leave him hanging. But everyone was watching, waiting to see the special moment between father and son.

“Thanks,” I choked out, grabbing his hand and shaking.

His eyes held so many apologies, but it was too little too late. I wasn’t sure we’d ever find our way back to one another. Not after everything.

Coach chose that exact moment to intervene and I breathed a sigh of relief as Dad took his seat. “Thank you, Kent,” he said, offering a nod of appreciation. “I know it means a lot to the team to have you here. You’re a true inspiration to the guys and proof that dreams can come true.

“Now we move onto the presentation. Every year, I like to give each of my seniors a token gift to remember their time at Rixon High. To remind them where they came from. This year, we’ve done something a little different. In an effort to work across departments, I approached Mr. Jalin, our arts director, about an exciting opportunity for one of his students. Miss Raine, if you’d like to come up here.”

I watched from across the way as Hailee stood up, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, and walked toward the coach.

“What Miss Raine has created for this year’s presentation is nothing other than incredible. And I hope you’ll join me in applauding her talent. Seniors of 2019, we present your senior year portraits.” He and Hailee began uncovering each portrait. The crowd hushed into awed silence. Even I couldn’t deny the impact of the nine paintings side by side.

“I think you’ll agree they really are something special.”

“Thank you,” my step-sister said, barely able to look at her audience.

One by one, Coach called up the seniors, presenting them with their portrait. Hailee posed for photos, graciously accepting a chaste kiss on the cheek from each of them, all except Asher who picked her up and twirled her around, and Cam who pulled her into his arms and kissed the crap out of her, audience be damned.

“And last but by no means least, our quarterback and captain, Jason Ford.”

The crowd’s applause faded into white noise as I got up and moved toward Hailee. She was smiling at me with such uncertainty, I felt like a complete shit. But when I reached her and she wrapped her arms around me, it was my turn to choke. Hailee didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. That one gesture spoke volumes.

When she pulled away, her smile was no longer uncertain but full of understanding. It only twisted the knife deeper. I’d been such a dick to her: making her life hell ever since she arrived in Rixon. Yet, here she was forgiving me for everything as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I hope you like it,” she said taking the framed photo down from the easel and presenting it to me.

I’d seen the portrait yesterday, but it had been ruined with red and white paint splashes.

“Well, Son,” Coach said, filling the awkward silence. “What do you think?”