My gaze snapped to Cam who looked as confused as I did.
“Coach, I’ll lead the team into the game,” he said, “but I think Kinnicky should take my place in the third quarter.”
“Are you sure that’s—”
“It’s the right call.” Jase nodded at Kinnicky across the huddle. The junior looked ready to piss his pants, but he managed to stand tall and return his quarterback’s nod.
“Well, all right then.” Coach looked to me. “Asher, how about it, Son? One final time.”
My chest tightened, Coach’s words like a vise around my throat.
This was it.
The last time I’d ever put on my jersey and play with my teammates. My best friends and brothers, for all intents and purposes.
“Asher...”
Everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to leap into action and get them pumped up. But there was something so bittersweet about it, I could barely find the words.
Until Jase caught my eye and said, “Together, we’ll do it together.”
With a tight smile, I moved into the center with him. He slung his arm around my shoulder and shouted, “Who are we?”
“Raiders,” the team replied.
“I said who are we?” My voice rang out, strong and clear, spurred on by my best friend’s reassurance.
“RAIDERS.” The team echoed back at us, their collective roar sending a surge of energy coursing through me.
“And what are we?”
“Family.” Jase squeezed my shoulder, his eyes sliding to mine, saying a hundred things I knew I’d never hear. This time, on the field as a team, and off the team as brothers, it was everything.
“And what are we gonna do?” I grinned at him, falling into my role with such ease, despite the deep ache in my heart.
“Win.”
“I said what are we gonna do?”
“WIN!”
Adrenaline pumped through me, the kind of high that could only come from being surrounded by your teammates; the guys who had seen you at your best, your worst, even your butt nakedness. Four years of my life had been dedicated to them. To the team. Four years that had flown by too quickly.
And now, it was at an end and I would never have this again.
“One more time,” Jase said quietly, squeezing my shoulder, and I knew his words were for me and me alone. He might not have understood my decision to give up college football, but right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was going out there and playing the best game we could possibly play.
Kicking some Eagle ass in the process.
Adrenaline pumped through me as I pushed my legs harder, eating up the distance between me and my target. Head down, shoulders squared, I drove straight into the offensive player’s side, tackling him to the ground. He landed with a loud thud, fumbling the ball.
“Nice, Bennet,” someone yelled as the rest of our players closed in.
We were winning comfortably in the fourth quarter, the Eagles disorganized and sloppy with no Lewis Thatcher to lead them. It didn’t stop us from going hard. The hunger for the win tethered us, pushing us harder, faster.
I’d been prepared not to play with my team again, but now I was out here, the roar of the crowd fueled me. And knowing Mya was out there watching me only made me stand taller.
God, I was going to miss this. I’d been lying to myself; thinking I could go off to college and focus on school instead of football. But being out here, wearing a blue and white jersey, it meant something.