Page 31 of Mr. Irrelevant (Rock City Renegades #1)

TWENTY-FIVE

MADDOX

“Trips right, twenty-two smash on three. Got it?” I ask my teammates as we stand in the first huddle of the day.

We won the coin toss, sending the Impact’s offense out first, which resulted in a quick punt.

Now it’s our turn to put some points on the board.

We always do better when we get the momentum rolling early, instead of having to play catch-up in the second half.

So, I’m hoping this drive has a good result.

They all nod in agreement, responding with one single, sharp clap as we take our places at the line of scrimmage.

I look around, scanning the defense and calling out to my line so they know to watch for the blitz.

The home crowd cheers loudly, their deafening wails making it nearly impossible for my guys to hear me, but I do my best to project my voice as I crouch down and yell the cadence.

“Red seventeen! Red seventeen! Hut, hut, hut!” Boomer snaps the ball into my waiting hands, and I roll back, watching as my three receivers take off on their routes.

This play is designed to have all my targets off to the right, so my attention is focused in that direction when I’m hit from my blind side…

hard . I barely even have time to protect the ball, somehow managing to tuck it into my chest just before I drop to the ground violently.

A large body crashes down on top of me, forcing all the air from my lungs as whistles sound from every direction.

I wait for the defender to get up since the play was blown dead, but he just lies there, pressing me down with his full weight before speaking quietly into the ear hole of my helmet.

I immediately recognize Underwood’s stupid-ass voice, his words putting me on high alert as soon as they leave his mouth.

“You can have my sloppy seconds, but it’s going to cost you. All day long, bitch.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Does he know ?

No. How would he?

I’ve been dreading this game for weeks. Not because I’m scared of him, but because I want to act on my instinct to protect Livvy.

He treated her like shit—made her feel like she wasn’t worthy of him—and he deserves to have his ass beat for it.

But I wouldn’t be able to do that without getting thrown out of the game and possibly outing that she and I have secretly been seeing each other, so I can’t.

And now that he’s acting like he knows more than he should, I’m not sure what to do.

I guess my only choice is to deny it, at least until she and I can talk.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I grunt, twisting my body in an attempt to break free.

He forces my head into the grass, but I do my best to stay calm, rolling out from under him.

He follows as I push to my feet, getting right in my face.

I don’t back down, pressing my chest protector into his as a dark, condescending smile stretches across his face

“Oh, I think you do,” he says on an arrogant laugh, shoving me back.

Before I can even think to retaliate, he’s pulled away by several teammates, who probably just assume we’re having the type of scuffle that often happens between plays.

The fans already have us pegged as division rivals because of our comparable records, so it wouldn’t be surprising to them if things got a little heated on the field.

But depending on how much Deacon knows, this may have just gotten personal.

“What the hell was that?” Jett says as I return to the huddle, where everyone waits for me to tell them what we’re doing next.

I try to shake off everything that just happened, knowing I can’t let him get in my head.

Livvy and I have worked too fucking hard for me to get rattled and blow an important division game, so I lock in, listening as the play comes through the speaker in my helmet.

I ignore the question, not wanting to break my focus.

“Thirty-eight, crack toss on two. Let’s open a nice little hole for Rhodes, alright?

” It’s a fairly simple run play, as long as my linemen hit their blocks, which will create a path for our running back.

Wesley Rhodes is built like a Mack truck, with the kind of speed that seems almost unnatural for a man with thighs as big as tree trunks.

If he has an opening and can get through the Impact linebackers, this play will certainly pick up the yards we just lost on the sack.

The huddle disperses, and we set up the play, Wes readying himself for the handoff behind me.

My eyes slide over to Deacon as I try to read the defense, and I’m immediately annoyed by the way he’s staring at me with that same shit-eating grin on his face.

Whatever he knows about me and Livvy is probably bullshit anyway, since the only time we’ve spent together has either been at my place or the practice field, out of the view of any security cameras.

For all I know, he could just be bluffing because I play for the team her dad owns.

I’ve heard at least half of my teammates talk about how hot Liv and her sister are, so it wouldn’t be dumb of him to assume I would feel the same way.

Which I do, but unlike them, I actually get to have her every night.

With a new air of confidence at the thought, I shout out the cadence, signaling for the snap.

In an instant, the ball is in Wes’ hands, and he pauses for a split second, pushing through a hole as the line does their job.

I watch as he jukes the first defender, gaining about fifteen yards before the safety finally brings him down.

Cheering loudly, I celebrate the first down before signaling to my guys that we’re going with a hurry-up offense.

Bypassing the huddle while the clock continues to run sends the Impact defense into a tizzy as they struggle to coordinate and settle into their formation.

I take that as the perfect opportunity to make the call, letting the offense know what we’re running.

It’s a play-action pass, so as soon as Boomer snaps the ball, I make a fake handoff to Rhodes.

It has the intended effect, throwing everyone off for a split second, which is just enough time for Emmett to run his route and find an open lane.

I don’t waste another second, sending a deep pass downfield.

It’s an absolute beauty, thanks to Livvy noticing all the issues with my form and helping me fix them.

Before her, I struggled with my long ball, but now I feel like it’s become second nature.

Once again, her instruction pays off, because Emmett makes an effortless catch, pulling a quick spin move past the free safety and breaking the plane into the end zone.

The stadium erupts as Renegades fans go absolutely wild, their deafening screams cutting through the cool, crisp Lake Erie air.

I bet people driving along the interstate can hear, and I fucking love it.

“Fuck yeah, Hayes!” I shout through cupped hands as I head toward where my teammates are already celebrating. But before I can even move, a heavy fist wraps around the collar of my shoulder pads, catching me off guard.

“Hey, man,” Deacon says, a cocky grin plastered across his face.

“Sorry Liv couldn’t answer your call last night.

She was a little busy.” My blood freezes in my veins, my heart dropping into my stomach as soon as her name leaves his mouth.

How the fuck does he know I called her…and that she didn’t answer?

As far as I know, she was headed to bed when we hung up, but I had the overwhelming urge to see her one last time before I fell asleep.

I assumed she was already out, so I sent her a text that said I’d talk to her after the game, and we haven’t spoken since.

But the way he’s talking ha s me thinking she had a different reason for not picking up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I grit through clenched teeth. I’m vaguely aware of Coach Hendricks yelling at me to get to the sideline as the field goal unit sets up for the extra point, but I’m frozen, my entire body wound tight with tension as I wait for him to answer.

He throws his head back, laughing loudly.

The sound has me ready to crawl out of my own skin, the tips of my ears going hot as anger flows through me.

“I dropped by her apartment last night to say hello. Let’s just say we made up for lost time.

” He pauses, lifting his chin. “Pussy was a little used up, but it got the job done.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I explode, launching forward and tackling him to the ground as my heart threatens to punch a hole through my pads.

The sound of his maniacal laugh cuts through the air between us like a knife, enraging me even further.

I wrap my fingers around his facemask, tearing the helmet from his head and tossing it aside before raining punch after punch down on him.

Blood flies from his nose as it cracks against my knuckles, but it’s like I’m outside my own body, physically unable to stop until a large set of arms yanks me backward.

“You fucking piece of shit!” I seethe, thrashing around in an attempt to break out of the hold that’s restraining me, because even though he’s coughing and sputtering, I’m still not satisfied. I want to fucking end him for even saying her name. He isn’t worthy of being anywhere near her.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing, Dane?” Jett yells, his familiar voice snapping me out of the rage-filled haze that’s overtaken me.

I look over my shoulder, my eyes wide as he loosens his grip on my body, my chest heaving with deep, erratic breaths while everything around me comes back into view.

I immediately focus on the ground, where yellow flags lie along the grass at every angle—all of which I’m assuming are for me.

I don’t have to wait long to find out as the referee speaks loudly into his microphone.

“Personal foul. Unsportsmanlike conduct, offense number thirteen. Fifteen-yard penalty will be enforced on kickoff, and number thirteen has been ejected from the game.”

I swallow thickly as the stadium fills with boos, knowing I’m getting exactly what I deserve.

The punishment certainly fits the crime, so I hang my head, exiting the field and making the walk of shame to the locker room with my tail between my legs.

Once I’m closed inside with nothing but the blaring silence of solitude to keep me company, I drop down on the bench, my shoulders slumping in defeat at how out-of-character I just acted.

I let Deacon get in my head—which I’m sure was his plan all along—but just hearing him say those things about Livvy had me completely enraged, and I answered by attacking him.

I’ve never lost my cool during a game, and I’ve always let the opposing team’s shit-talking roll off my back.

But the thought of him touching her like that had me seeing red, not giving a single fuck about the consequences.

And the worst part of it all? I can’t even explain myself to my coaches or teammates, because everything between her and me is a secret.

When I proposed this arrangement to Livvy, I knew deep down we’d end up here—me wanting more, even though she made me promise not to fall for her.

But that’s exactly what’s been happening for weeks, and the worst part is knowing that I’ll be the only one to blame when she unknowingly tears my heart out.

That could be happening even sooner than I’m ready for if any part of that asshole’s story is true.

Maybe they did reconcile, and the next time I see her, she’ll tell me we can’t do this anymore.

As much as it would kill me if she went back to him, that’s her right.

I’d have no choice but to let her go, knowing she’ll always be the one that got away and comparing every woman I meet to her, fully aware that they’ll never measure up.

There’s nobody in this world like Olivia Grant—and I’m the idiot who fell in love with her, just to turn around and watch her leave.