Page 22 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

FINLAY

T he roar of the crowd is deafening, but all it does is make this headache worse.

My helmet is pressed tight against my skull, as I hunch low behind the center, my eyes scanning the defense. None of it registers. Not the formation. Not the time left on the clock. Not the fact that this is a critical down. Not the fact that if we win this game, we’re in the Victory Bowl.

All I see is Nova.

Nova standing in my penthouse, voice shaking with hurt and fury.

Nova holding her phone out with that goddamn article.

Nova’s fucking beautiful eyes filled with tears.

My stomach twists. I should’ve said more. I should have been furious. I should’ve fought for her harder than I did.

The ball snaps.

I drop back.

My first read is covered. The second one is tangled up.

I blink too late and BAM.

I hit the turf like a sack of bricks, the breath knocked clean from my lungs.

Another sack. The third this game. Maybe the fourth.

I’m not even sure anymore.

My offensive line helps me up, and I brush them off with a grunt, not because I’m mad at them, but because I’m mad at myself. I should’ve fixed this before getting on a plane.

I tried calling her. Twenty times.

I waited outside her place like a lovesick idiot until Roxy showed up and told me she “wasn’t ready.” Whatever the hell that means.

And now I’m here. Playing like shit and letting everyone down.

They punt. Again.

I slump on the bench, helmet off, sweat dripping from my temple, jaw locked tight. The stadium lights blur in my vision.

Nova’s voice echoes in my head.

“That’s your solution? I give up my job, my independence, and you hide away the whore in your penthouse?”

I never meant to make her feel that way.

I’m not ashamed of her. Not even close.

I just didn’t know how to protect her from the ugliness that comes with my life. And clearly, I failed.

When we finally make it to the fourth quarter, the team is barely holding on. Coach is barking plays, shouting at everyone to wake the hell up, and I know they’re all looking at me.

This team rises and falls with me.

I scrub a hand over my face and line up again.

Final seconds. Ball on the thirty-five.

We’re down by five.

We need a miracle.

I call the play with a voice that doesn’t feel like my own. The snap comes. The pocket holds.

I step up, find Jace sprinting across the middle, and let it rip.

Perfect spiral.

Jace catches it on the run and dives over the goal line just before the clock hits zero.

Touchdown.

The crowd goes insane.

We’re going to the Victory Bowl. I should be elated.

But I feel nothing.

I jog off the field, stone-faced as my teammates try to celebrate. Someone smacks my helmet, someone else yells my name.

The coach is on me the second I hit the tunnel.

“Reed! What the hell was that out there? That first half was an embarrassment. You want to tell me what’s going on in that thick head of yours because we’re going to the Victory Bowl and I need to make sure you aren’t going to fuck that up.”

I open my mouth. Close it and shake my head.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

He scoffs. “Like hell you are, but you better get fine because I won’t be embarrassed again.”

In the locker room, the guys start crowding me.

“You okay, man?”

“Your head ain’t in the game.”

“Is this about that Nova?”

My blood runs cold.

Someone pulls out their phone to show an article, a meme, a headline that stabs like a knife.

I rip the towel off my shoulder and chuck it into his locker.

“Drop it,” I growl, voice low and lethal.

But they don’t. They never do.

The press is already outside the doors, shouting my name.

“Finlay! Can we ask you about the stripper?”

“Do you think the distraction affected your game?”

I shove through the tunnel, past security, through the media, and straight into the parking garage, not stopping until I’m climbing on the bus.

My hands tremble as I sit on the couch, and I slam it once, twice.

I could’ve fought harder. I should’ve fought harder.

I didn’t just lose my head during the game.

I might have just lost the girl I never wanted to live without.

New York feels different now.

Colder.

Lonelier.

The second I stepped off the plane, my phone blew up again. More articles. More bullshit headlines. More memes that tore my relationship apart and turned it into a joke.

“From MVP to VIP: Finlay Reed Caught With His Pants Down.”

“Touchdown or Stripdown?”

“Nighthawks' golden boy caught with Heaven’s Edge’s finest.”

Every word felt like a punch to the gut. Not because they were about me. I don’t give a damn about what they said about me. But Nova? They dragged her through the dirt like she wasn’t the best damn thing that ever happened to me. Like she wasn’t everything.

And now she won’t answer.

Not my texts. Not my calls.

I’ve tried everything short of smoke signals, and still nothing.

“I expected more from you, Finlay.”

Her words echo constantly in my head like a goddamn loop I can’t break. The tears in her eyes and disappointment in her voice break me.

So I go to the one place I shouldn’t go.

Heaven’s Edge.

The music hits me the second I walk in. I scan the room, not caring about the stares or the gasps of surprise.

I just need to see her.

Roxy steps in front of me like she’s been waiting.

“I don’t think you should be here,” she says, crossing her arms and glaring at me like she’d love to toss me out herself.

“I need to see her.”

“Well, she doesn’t want to see you.” Her voice is sharp, cutting. “You think coming in here is gonna make it better? You want to put her name in the headlines again? Go ahead. Let the world write another article about how Nova Wilde can’t stay away from her quarterback.”

My jaw tightens.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“No, you’re just trouble that showed up uninvited,” she snaps, stepping closer. “I love her, Finlay. And right now, she’s hurting. And unlike you, I’m not going to walk away and let her get crushed twice.”

That lands hard. I want to argue, I want to yell, but she’s right. And as much as I hate it, I’m not going to cause a scene. Not here. Not at Nova’s work.

“Tell her I stopped by,” I say quietly, turning and walking back out before I do something stupid.

The second the door shuts behind me, the silence is louder than the music ever was.

When I get back to my penthouse, I crack open a beer, barely tasting it. My phone is still in my hand, and I’m one second away from calling her again when there’s a knock on the door.

I jump up, a tiny bit of hope washing over me until I open the door.

Jace and Theo walk in, both of them eyeing me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Dude,” Jace mutters, dropping onto the couch. “What the hell happened?”

“It was like someone replaced you with a high school JV backup,” Theo says.

I drag a hand down my face and sigh, leaning back. “I fucked up.”

“No shit,” Jace says.

“Thanks, man. That helps.”

Theo grabs a beer and tosses me a look. “You gonna tell us what actually happened?”

So I do.

The article. The fight. The way I reacted. The way she walked out. The silence since. Everything.

When I’m done, they’re both quiet. Which is saying something, because Jace talks more than anyone I know.

“I need to fix it,” I say, finally. “I need to do something, but I don’t know what the hell that is. She won’t answer me. She won’t see me.”

“You could stand outside her window with a boombox,” Theo offers, completely serious.

“Or fake a knee injury to get her to visit you in the hospital,” Jace adds. “That’s some next-level manipulation.”

I just stare at them.

“You two are idiots.”

Theo shrugs. “Not denying it.”

I shake my head, exhaling slowly as I stare at the floor. “I don’t need a stunt. I need to show her that this isn’t some temporary obsession. That I’m not ashamed of her. That I’d scream her name from every fucking rooftop if that’s what it takes.”

Jace leans forward, his voice a little quieter now. “So do it.”

“Do what?”

“Prove it. Not to us. Not to the press. To her.”

Theo nods. “Put your money where your mouth is, man. Tell the world who she is to you. Take the narrative back.”

I pause. My heart is pounding in my chest. Because for the first time since this whole mess started, I know exactly what I need to do.

It won’t be easy.

It won’t be subtle.

But if it gets me Nova Wilde back and shows her what she really means to me?

Then I’ll do it.

I’ll do anything.