Tackled by Love
Authors: Rachael Duncan
Tackled by Love
Rachael Duncan
Copyright © 2014 by Rachael Duncan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form of by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, if done so constitutes a copyright violation. This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Edited by: Second Gaze Editing
Formatted by: Brenda Wright
Cover Designed by: Kellie Dennis from Book Cover by Design
To Steven, Natalie, and Zoe. I love you guys.
Chapter 5
“Don’t fuck this up, Stone,” Coach says through the microphone in my helmet. “If the touchdown isn’t there, go for the short pass. We need this to tie the game.”
I hold back the urge to roll my eyes. I know we need this, just like I know what’s on the line here. We have to win the next two games to make it to the playoffs. It’s so close I can almost taste it. My whole life I’ve worked toward this, my only goal to lead my team to a Super Bowl. Now that it’s within my reach, I’m more focused than ever and determined to play the best damn game of my life.
I walk up behind center and call the play.
“Blue 22! Blue 22! Hike!” I yell out as the ball is snapped to me. Once the ball hits my hands, I take a few steps back before throwing the ball to Anton Andrews, one of my receivers. It’s a short pass, but effective since he’s wide open and manages to run the rest of the way to the end zone for a touchdown.
“Hell, yeah!” I pump my fist and run toward the end of the field to join the celebration. After a few slaps on the back, my eyes go to the stands in search of my beautiful wife, Valerie. With how tall she is, it’s impossible to miss her. She’s on her feet jumping up and down with her long, wavy blonde hair and big tits bouncing as she cheers me on. A smile crosses my face as I think that I’m one lucky son of a bitch. I’m a quarterback for a professional football team and I have the hottest wife known to mankind. If her big tits aren’t enough, she has these big blue eyes, luscious red lips that I can suck on for days, and a firm ass that I love to grab. But best of all, she was with me before all the money and fame. She loves me for me, not what I do.
Jogging back to the sidelines with my teammates, I pat their asses and give them high fives.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I’m on an adrenaline high right now and can’t stand still. It’s happening. We’re going to go back out there to win this game.
It takes no time at all for our defense to crush the other team’s chances of scoring. I slide my helmet over my head and run back out onto the field. As we’re in the huddle going over the next play, I look each of them in the eye, “This is it, guys. This is what we’ve busted our asses for all season. Let’s go out there and show ‘em how it’s done!”
We break away and line up in formation. After the first snap is incomplete, I get the ball again and look around for someone who’s open. I see Andrews and throw it his way. It’s a perfect spiral through the air and to his hands, but before he can pull the ball in, he drops it.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
I run over to Anton, or Andrews as I call him, and throw my hands up. “What the hell, man? I threw that right to you.”
“Sorry, dude. I was anticipating the hit before I caught the ball.”
“Next time make the damn catch and take the fucking hit. We can’t afford screw-ups like that. Understand?” I yell while getting close to his face. I need him on the same page as me. “We’ve got to lay it all out on the line right now. If we don’t, this year is over. We pack our shit and wait around for training camp next season.”
“Got it,” he replies. I pat him on the helmet in encouragement before he sprints off to his place in the formation.
I take my spot and close my eyes. Taking in a calming breath, I know this is it. I have to lead our team to victory with this play. And I will. Failure is not an option. If we don’t pick up a first down here, we’ll have to punt the ball to the other team and probably lose the game. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.
Opening my eyes, I call out the play. “Red 57. Red 57! Hut, Hike!” This play is designed to pick up 10 yards for a first down. At this point, I’m not trying to score. We just need to pick up these few yards and live to make another play. Shifting my body to the right, my eyes seek out Jacobs, the receiver who should be there to catch this ball. But, he’s not. Son of a bitch. He missed his route and now I’m gonna have to do this on the fly.
I quickly scan the field to see if anyone is open. My best receiver is double covered and no one else is open enough to make a catch. The pocket is collapsing and defenders are closing in on me. Fuck. If I take a sack here, we’ll have to punt. I start scrambling around, running toward the right sideline to buy myself more time in hopes of making a play. I can’t see him, but I can sense a lineman right behind me, eager to knock the shit out of me.
I look toward the left side of the field and see Andrews has managed to get ahead of the defensive back. I’ll have to throw completely across my body, which is unnatural in itself, but to do it on the run doesn’t do much for accuracy. If I want to ensure this gets caught, I know I’ll have to stop running to throw it and risk taking the hit. But damn, I want this so bad I’ll have to suck it the fuck up.
Without looking behind me at the approaching danger, I plant my feet, pull my arm back, and throw the ball with all my might. For a second, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. I’m watching the ball fly slowly through the air, waiting to hit the hands of the guy who’s about to win it for us. But before I can see if the catch is complete, a 350-pound freight train crashes into my left side, knocking the air right out of me. The momentum from the hit jerks my head to the left as my body gets jarred to the right and slammed into the ground. I hear the pop before I feel the excruciating pain. It’s sending sharp jolts of what feels like knives stabbing me straight up my left leg. It’s so intense it instantly makes me nauseous.
I can’t hear anything as I roll back and forth clutching my knee in agony. This is bad, real bad. Gritting my teeth, I try to hold in the groans that want to escape my throat as I wait for the training staff to get to me on the field.
“What’s wrong, Landon?” one of the trainers asks while bending down to get close to me.
“My knee,” I moan out through clenched teeth.
“Okay, can you walk with some help?”
“I could probably hop toward the sideline, but I won’t make it to the locker room.” My mind is going all over the fucking place with the possibilities of what could be wrong.
“Alright, let’s go.” He nods at two of my teammates and each of them grabs an arm and helps me to my feet. A hiss passes through my teeth as I slightly move my left knee on accident. With all of my weight on my right leg and my arms slung over my teammates’ shoulders, I manage to hobble my way to the sideline where transportation is waiting for me. Once I sit down, a relieved breath emerges from me. I’m still in a lot of pain, but I’m glad I made it.
The cart starts moving to take me to the doctor, who I’m sure is waiting on my arrival. Before I’m taken away, I glance up at the stands to find Valerie. Her mouth is hanging slightly open and all the color has drained from her face. I give her a thumbs up and try to put a small smile on my face to let her know I’m okay.
I know I’m anything but.
***
Once I’m back in the locker room, the doctor injects my knee with pain medication to make me more comfortable while he examines me. The relief is instant and I can finally take a full breath and relax a little. The tightness in my stomach is still there because of the unknown, but at least I’m able to unclench my fists and jaw and actually listen to what the doctor is telling me.
Dr. Herpin bends my leg in different directions. As he concentrates and moves his hand and fingers around my knee and up and down my leg, he is very quiet, making him hard to read. I lean back and stare up at the ceiling to wait for the assessment. After he’s finished his examination, he starts writing notes on his clipboard. I’m trying to read his expression as he quickly writes. He has a deep furrow to his gray, bushy eyebrows while he looks through the glasses that sit at the end of his nose. I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not, but everyone knows that you do not ask him questions until he is completely done. A few members on the team made that mistake and were quickly shut down, made to feel like a toddler who just pissed his pants. So I sit here and wait quietly until he’s finished. After what seems like an eternity, he sets down his clipboard and looks at me.
