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No further statements have been issued by family court.

Chapter13

Two Days Gone

Kolby

“Well, shit, it wasn’t just a rumor.” Skinner chuckles as they hit the turf like they’ve got something to prove.

Helmets strapped, jerseys stretched tight over muscle, and some a little more, the so-called “practice squad” isn’t made up of rookies today—it’s made up of legends, lifers, and yeah, lunatics who apparently never outgrew the high, since everyone is dressed in Blue Valley High gear.

Hudson chuckles. “There’s no way those still fit.”

“Let them live their best lives.” I smirk.

Lucas is first out, visor down like he’s walking into a war zone. Logan’s beside him, tossing a ball back and forth like he’s already bored. Coach Cohen looks like he has a point to prove, Coach Moore’s grinning like this is Christmas morning, and the oldest Coach Cox, he’s stretching like he’s about to tear something and wouldn’t give a damn if he did. They’re pumped.

Behind them, Luke, Ryan, and Jackson all look like they’re about to throw down in a bar fight, not a scrimmage. Next is Alex, Liam, Jake, and Brody, followed by Maddox Hines, who comes last in that group, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The things they’ve been through … I have a new respect for them, and as fucked up as it is, I have hope that Lo doesn’t look at me like filth.

The commandos are next. CJ, Matthew, and Remington all geared up, all quiet, all deadly, like the game is just another mission they’ve accepted. They don’t say a word, just fall into formation.

I shift my helmet under one arm, trying not to smile, but damn … this? This is gonna be fun.

Then I see Boone jogging out of the tunnel with a plastic whistle in his mouth and a gym bag swinging from one hand like he’s bringing snacks. When he gets closer, I see it’s full of flags. Neon ones.

He drops the bag with a dramaticthudand pulls out a pair of bright yellow flag belts and holds them up. “All right, gentlemen!” he calls, already grinning, “In accordance with the League of Angry Wives, Fiancées, Girlfriends, and Small Children Who Don’t Want to Watch You Limp, we’re playing flag football today.”

A few groans, a few laughs, and one “What?” from Coach Moore.

Boone lifts a finger. “These rules were personally drafted by Tessa Links, and signed off by Jade Brooks, and approved by a majority vote of women who want their men walking off the field, not rolled into the ER.”

He starts tossing belts like he’s playing Santa at a holiday party. “Flag belts on. No lowering shoulders. No full tackles. Trash talk is encouraged but keep it PG—there are kids in the stands and a pregnant lady who could go into labor if you try any dumb shit.”

CJ catches his with one hand. “So … maiming’s off the table.”

Boone points at him. “No maiming.And no diving at legs, Remington—I know how you think.”

Remington just grins.

Coach Cohen glares at his belt like it might be contagious. “This is an insult to the game.”

“Yeah,” Boone says cheerfully, “but it’s an homage tosurviving the game.”

The girls are in hysterics as they move down to the sidelines. Jade’s standing with her arms crossed lips twitching. Sydney and Lily are holding up a sign that reads, “Coach Boone!” in glitter.

I adjust my gloves, watching Lo out of the corner of my eye. She’s not laughing, but sheissmiling. Just barely. I’m pissed I laid all that out on her lap. Hate that I did that to her.

Focus.

Let the old dogs bark. Let the girls watch. Let Lo watch me do what I do best.

Boone holds the whistle to his lips, holds up a single hand like he’s about to lead us into battle, and declares, “Flag belts on, pride off, game on!” Then he blows the whistle, and the chaos begins.

* * *

By the end of the game, there’s not one of us on this field with dignity intact.