The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

Now was not the time to tell him.

Clapping him on the back, I forced an Asher Bennet kilowatt smile. “Come on, we have some rookies to terrorize.”

For as bittersweet as it was, running drills with my team again was exactly what I needed. The initial burn of frigid air filling my lungs, the ping of my muscles as I sprinted up and down the field, the thrill of rushing our offense players to the ground. Football might not have been my destiny, but it would forever be a part of me. One day in the future, when I was stuck in some boring computer class, or shadowing my old man in a meeting with some stuck-up celebrity type, I’d remember this time.

When football was religion and people worshipped the ground we walked on.

“Yo, Cap,” I called out to Jason. “I’m thinking we need to put the offense through their paces, they’re looking a bit sloppy.”

“I like your style, Bennet,” Grady said, jogging up beside me. “What you thinking?”

“Bull in the ring.”

He howled with laughter while a couple of the younger players paled. Bull in the ring was an age-old drill that was mostly considered too aggressive for practice these days.

“Ste, you’re up first.”

“Me?” He blanched. “Why am I up first?”

“Because you’ve got some big shoes to fill next year, QB1,” I teased. Ste was a good kid; showed real leadership potential, but he was no Jason Ford.

I doubted Rixon High would see another Jason Ford for a very long ti

me.

“Shit,” Ste cussed beneath his breath.

“Yo, Cap, you ever shit yourself before a little game of bull in the ring?”

Jason sauntered over to me, arms folded across his number one jersey, and cut his glare to Ste. “You want to take this team all the way, Kinnicky?”

“Y- yeah, you know I do, man.”

“So man up and get in the fucking ring,” Jason growled the words, shooting me and the rest of the seniors an amused smirk.

“Get it, Kinnicky,” Mackey yelled. “You’ve got this.” The rest of the freshman and junior players started cheering their future quarterback on while we moved into position, ready to rush the shit out of him. Nine seniors versus one junior. It was typically the defense players who formed the ring, but this wasn’t about physical strength as much as it was about mental strength. And Ste Kinnicky, future quarterback and leader of the Rixon Raiders was about to show us all just how big his balls were.

“You ready, Kinnicky?” Jason asked and the junior pulled down his face guard and nodded sharply.

“Okay, on my count. One… two… play.”

“You think they’ve got what it takes?” I asked my best friends, tipping the neck of my beer toward the table of younger Raiders. We’d finally called time on the drills when a storm rolled in and fat drops of rain had started to fall. In true captain spirit, Jase told everyone to head to Bell’s, adding that the drinks were on him.

“Kinnicky has the skill but I don’t know if he has the heart.” He stroked his jaw. “Mackey, though, now that kid is hungry for it.”

“He’s hungry for something all right,” Cam chuckled. “Check him out, trying his luck with Sara again.”

The regular waitress at Bell’s, Sara, was used to our banter: the cat calls and sexual innuendo. But Mackey was like a dog with a bone and no matter how many times she knocked him back, he got right back up and tried again.

“Hey, Jase, did you ever get in her panties? You can tell us.” Grady piped up, earning him a slap upside the head from Cam. “What?” he groaned. “It’s just a question.”

“I’m with Felicity now, fucker. Show some respect.”

“Jeez, it’s not like she’s here right now. I’m just shooting the shit.”

“Yeah, well don’t.” Jase grunted, leaning back in the booth.

“You’ve changed, man. And if that’s what it means to be pussy-whipped, count me out.”