Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Eyes on the fucking ball.
That football is the only thing that matters.
I listened to Tomlin’s cadence. When the signal came I broke into action, routing left then going hard right.
Tomlin gave me a perfectly thrown pass, clear and direct and right into my open hands.
The ball hit my fingers like it was coming home.
Yes. Fuck. Yes.
I knew we only had eight seconds left on the clock, but I didn’t have very far to take it. I juked left again, Watkins right on my ass, then took off directly to the right, gunning it down to the endzone. I could feel thousands of eyes on me. The crowd, Miami, my own teammates. Millions, with everyone watching on TV.
The best pressure cooker on Earth.
Just me and the football.
I ran like it was the last thing I’d ever do. When my foot landed past that goal line, I roared, unbidden, as Miami’s crowd groaned and my own team shouted in celebration.
“That’s how we do it!” someone on my team screamed, and as the clock hit zero, my own team came to jump alongside me in the endzone.
“How’s that feel, Stormy Eyes?” Kace shouted out at me, grinning wide as he used my silly nickname.
He jumped over to hug me. “Kind of feel like I’m about to puke from that last route, but you fucking bet your ass I loved every second of it.”
Kace laughed.
Miami’s fans were already flooding out of the stands a few moments later. I couldn’t blame them. Their team had been on fucking fire all night—but we’d just outplayed them in the last few seconds.
“You were nasty with that route running in the third, too, Storm,” Kace said to me, giving me a big pat on the back. “This is going to be a fun season.”
I choked up a little, despite myself. Pride welled up in me, hearing Kace Tomlin say something like that to me. Moments like this made all of the bullshit worth it. Having my name in headlines, being misunderstood, and dealing with people who didn’t believe in me meant nothing when we played football that well.
Within another couple of hours, we were all already back on our flight to Colorado. Other than my legs being tired, I felt pretty great, and when the plane touched down in Denver, an email popped up in my notifications.
Contract Ready to Sign: The Fixer Brothers
I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.
“There it is, man,” I said to Kace, showing him the email on my phone.
Kace smiled at me. “I wasn’t allowed to tell you, but Nathan let me know last night that they were going to go forward with you.” He held up a hand to high-five me. “Welcome to the club, bro. If you think you’re already famous with football fans, wait ‘til the home TV network fans learn who you are. Those ladies are going to fall in love with ol’ Stormy Eyes.”
“Nah, don’t need that,” I said. “I’ve had plenty of attention from women since going pro, but I’m more excited about Emmett.”
Kace raised an eyebrow at me. “Didn’t know you were into guys. But that’s hot, Storm.”
“Oh. I’m not,” I said, heat creeping up to my cheeks. “I didn’t mean I’m interested in Emmett.”
He shrugged. “All I know is that he is single, gay, and looks so hot, like he belongs in a glamorous old movie or something.”
“I’ll admit that’s true. He really does, doesn’t he?”
Kace nodded. “So what are you excited about, then?”
“About rubbing it in his greedy little face that I’m going to be on the TV show,” I said. “He hates me. He’d probably pay me a million dollars in cash not to be on the show.”
Kace furrowed his brow. “Emmett hates you? Emmett Waycott?”
“That’s the one,” I said.
Kace seemed confused. “I’ve only had dinner with him a few times, but that guy seems like he could befriend anyone. He could make a panther with a machine gun into a docile kitten in two seconds flat.”
I snorted. “Don’t even try to explain how a panther would hold a machine gun.”
“In its teeth, obviously,” Kace said. “But I mean it. I really doubt Emmett hates you. You’re a charmer, he’s a charmer…”
“And he thinks I’m going to ruin the Fixer Brother’s reputation,” I said. “Because I tell it like it is. And because I talk shit to homophobes, like the guy who fucked with you in that bar.”
Kace nodded. “The guys do really want that deal with Racks,” he mused.
I shrugged. “Emmett Waycott isn’t the first guy who’s had a problem with me, and he won’t be the last. I’ll figure something out. He’s just a wealthy, Mad Men-type anyway. I don’t need him to like me.”
The thought of Emmett gnawed away at me all night, though. An hour later, back at home, I signed the digital contract, finalizing my home renovation plans and appearance on the TV show.