Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(59)

“No worries there,” Mary mumbled before draining the rest of her wine.

Riley and Giana nodded their promise, and then I walked over to the kitchen and yanked open the freezer. “Who wants pizza?”

I was answered with an enthusiastic chorus of meeee before Giana was trying to sell Mary on her books again and Riley was not-so-subtly watching the ESPN highlights that we’d muted to keep her from fixating on them all night. I took the escape to work on the pizza and sneak my phone out again.

Me: Sorry for the delay in response, you knocked me out with that photo.

Holden: Hurry up and get your sweet ass over here.

Me: Give me two hours.

Holden: Two hours… and then, two orgasms.

I bit my lip against the jolt of pleasure that just that stupid dirty text could elicit from me as I tucked my phone away. Then, I tore open the plastic wrapping on the frozen pizza and flicked on the oven to pre-heat.

When I turned around, Riley and Giana were on the couch, trying to decide what we should watch.

Mary, on the other hand, was watching me.

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Holden



I knew something was off when I woke up that morning.

It was the week before Thanksgiving, and as if preparing for our game on Saturday wasn’t high stress enough with a playoff chance on the line, the entire team was wound tight from tests and papers due before the holiday, too.

Every day presented me with new challenges as captain — from setting up non-optional study halls for the players I knew needed it, to talking down my best guys from panic attacks, I’d seen it all.

Fortunately, I was in a good headspace to handle it.

My grades were high, and I’d planned ahead to get any assignments done early that I could so that I was able to be available during this demanding week for my team. On the field, I was excelling, our win streak stacking up and putting us closer and closer to the playoff spot we aimed to clinch. If we won our game this weekend, we’d be a shoo-in.

And off the field, outside of the classroom…

I had Julep.

But on the morning of November 17th, I woke with a pit in my stomach for a reason I couldn’t explain. The weather was shit, my head was pounding, and when I texted Julep good morning, she didn’t respond.

Normally, I wouldn’t have worried. I would have assumed she was busy. But I’d felt her growing distant lately, something brewing in her that I couldn’t put my finger on. The other night, she’d ripped at my clothes so frantically she’d nearly burst into tears. I’d stopped her, holding her, and for the first time, she slept in my bed without us fucking first.

She didn’t say a word.

And she was stiff in my arms the entire night.

So, when she didn’t answer my text two days later, I was immediately anxious. And I couldn’t shake it — not with my morning run in the freezing mist covering Boston, not at practice — where Julep was uncharacteristically absent, and not as I turned in my last assignment before the holiday. I still had no text from her, and I tried calling, only for her to send me to voicemail.

So, I texted again.

Me: Hey, didn’t see you at the stadium today… you okay?

I still hadn’t heard from her when I made it back to the house and found my roommates setting up for a party.

“What’s this?” I asked, tossing my bag against the bay window bench. Leo and Kyle were carrying a keg into the kitchen.

“What’s it look like?” Kyle shot back like the smartass he was.

I glared at him, readying all the reasons why a party was the last thing we needed two days before a big game. But before I got the chance, they set the keg down and Leo walked over to me.

“The team is stressed, Cap,” he said, no hint of his usual carefree smile. “Between the pressure of the game this weekend and all the tests… we all need a break.”

“Most of us already finished our last classes before the holiday today, anyway,” Kyle said. “And those who haven’t aren’t going to pick up a textbook until after the game Saturday. We all know that.”

He had a point.

I sighed, folding my arms as I considered.

“Low key,” I told them, pointing a finger right at Kyle when he smiled victoriously. “I mean it. The team, whatever girls they want to invite, but that’s it. Not an open house. I don’t want to see a single player doing anything other than drinking beer. And we start kicking people out at two at the latest. We have practice tomorrow.”

“It’ll be a light one,” Kyle argued. “It’s the day before an away game.”

“Take the party past two and I’ll show you a light practice,” I threatened.

Kyle rolled his eyes and waved me off but didn’t push me — and I knew even if he was annoyed by my decision, he’d respect it.

No one wanted a grueling practice the day before we played.

Every bone in my body ached as I climbed the stairs to my room. All I wanted was to eat, shower, and crawl into bed. I was exhausted — mentally and physically.

But now, I had a party to host.

I flopped down face-first onto my mattress, heaving a sigh and allowing myself a moment of self-pity before I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. My phone was practically burning in my pocket, so I pulled it out, stomach dropping when I still didn’t see anything from Julep.