Page 25 of Perfect Storm (Toronto Thunder #1)

Levi was expecting for Ross to make some kind of comment to him on Monday morning when they showed up for practice.

If he was being honest, he was dreading it. He’d talked to Logan and Landry about it over the weekend, and they’d both reassured him he was doing the right thing. That even if Ross was pissed, it was still the right thing to do.

He and Aidan hadn’t talked about the switch more, but he’d sensed Aidan’s gaze heavy on him more than once, as they’d been driving into the practice facility, in the locker room, and even now, with the offensive linemen gathered on the opposite side of the field from the skill players.

But so far Ross had been silent—sullen, more like—but that was better than dealing with any unnecessary bullshit or passive-aggressive comments.

“We’re gonna make a change,” Coach announced to their group. “Gonna try Banks out at left tackle. Acker—you’re gonna move to right.”

It was clear from the annoyed resignation on Ross’ face that Ned had told him ahead of time, at least, but he still didn’t look happy about it.

“Sure thing, Coach. Sounds good,” Griff said, clearly trying to smooth things over. He gave Ned a solid nod and then shot Levi a reassuring smile.

Still, despite Griff’s clear support, Levi found he was nervous as they got lined up for the first set of plays.

He could sense Aidan behind him, a distinct presence in the pocket.

When he raised his gaze, he met the eyes of the defensive guys in front of the line.

They weren’t playing first team on first team—which Levi was profoundly grateful for, at least for this first attempt—so the defensive players didn’t necessarily have starter skills, but they were hungrier to prove themselves.

Ned blew the whistle, Griff yelled out the snap count and Levi had a single breathless moment to brace himself before the defensive tackle was pushing into his space, pulling a tricky spin move that Levi knew he’d been working on in practice.

Levi knew how to deal with something like that, he did. Had been dealing with it for years, because in the National Football League, you couldn’t just block and call it good.

But he’d been unprepared for it and his weight was shifted wrong. It took him a second to adjust, and that single second was all it took for the defensive end to get the upper hand, pushing him back with a sudden burst of strength and speed.

Levi retrenched, painfully aware that the pair of them had probably pushed deep into Aidan’s pocket of space. At any moment, he might collide with his quarterback before he could throw the ball, and that wasn’t worse than a sack, but it sure wasn’t good either.

Breathing hard, Levi mustered a last burst of strength and tried to muscle the guy off to the side, more out of the way, but he was three-fifty if he was a pound, and had the upper hand.

Levi managed to get him only half as far as he’d hoped.

The whistle blew.

“Shit.” Levi exhaled sharply as he finally looked up from his play to downfield. The play had been a double tight end pattern, Trevor running short and Lane running deep.

The hope was that Aidan could hit Lane, but Trevor was there as a backup option—hopefully at least a first down, but probably not much more than a ten-yard gain.

Trevor was holding the ball as he jogged back to the huddle.

Levi looked over at Aidan, who just shrugged. “I had to get rid of it faster than I wanted,” he said.

He gave Aidan credit for honesty. They weren’t making this switch for shits and giggles. Everyone needed to be better, to give Aidan the time he needed.

Including Levi.

As they gathered together for feedback, Ross looked right over at him, his lip curled in a sneer beneath his helmet’s grill. “Harder than you thought, huh, Banks,” he muttered under his breath.

Levi didn’t smile as much as he bared his teeth. “No, just about as hard as I expected,” he retorted.

Ned shot him a look, obviously telling him to cool it. He was probably right; they didn’t need a brawl breaking out in practice. Levi was going to need all his energy and focus to deal with this positional change. He couldn’t—shouldn’t—waste it on Ross.

“Better—but we need to give Flynn another five seconds,” Ned said. “Let’s run it again.”

And then they did. Over and over. Until Levi’s legs and arms were burning with exhaustion, but he pushed himself hard and then harder.

By the time practice ended, he couldn’t say it had gone bad, but he also didn’t want to give himself a gold star he hadn’t earned.

He would earn it, no question about it, but he hadn’t earned it today.

Ned patted him on the shoulder as they headed into the locker room. “Not good yet,” he said thoughtfully.

“No,” Levi agreed, even though he was afraid that would be the end of the experiment.

The coaching staff knew what they had in Ross Acker.

He was a proven entity at left tackle, which was one of the most important pieces on the field.

Levi was still getting up to speed. It had been years since he’d played left.

He’d never played it consistently. It wasn’t that much different, but there were enough nuances that it took some getting used to.

“You’re gonna get there,” Ned said optimistically.

“You’re not pulling me?”

Ned shook his head. “There’s something there. You’ve got the chops, kid. Just need more reps. More experience.”

“Isn’t that what Acker’s gonna tell you?” Levi wondered.

“He already tried,” Ned said. “Argued with me for an hour when I told him we were gonna try this out. He’s not happy.”

“Yeah,” Levi said. That much had been obvious.

“But he’s good on the right. Not as good as you, obviously, but Aidan’s not left-handed, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

If Aidan had been left-handed, then Levi playing right tackle would’ve covered his blind side. But Aidan wasn’t left-handed, and so he needed a dynamite left tackle.

Levi nodded.

“Don’t let it get you down. It was a decent first practice,” Ned said, clapping him on the back, despite his sweaty pads. “And don’t let him pull you into any posturing bullshit, okay?”

“Sure, Coach,” Levi said.

He’d been planning on ignoring Ross’ comments anyway, but it gave him a little bit of extra motivation to do it as Ross sat two lockers down from him and kept muttering insults under his breath.

They weren’t surprising or honestly very creative. Levi had heard way worse.

Griff stopped in front of him as he was finishing getting dressed after his shower.

“Great effort today,” Griff said.

“Thanks, dude,” Levi said.

“Don’t listen to him, okay? He’s just pissed. He’ll get over it.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Even if I thought he was right, I wouldn’t listen to him.”

Griff nodded. “You’re gonna get there.”

Levi hadn’t needed the reminder that he wasn’t there yet, but at least Griff had been nice about it.

When he finally climbed into Aidan’s car at the end of the day, dusk rolling over the city, Aidan apparently wasn’t going to be the same.

He was quiet for a long time after they pulled out of the parking lot. “You should tell Ned you changed your mind,” he said, when they were more than halfway home.

Levi wished he was surprised. But of course, Aidan had zero fucking patience for the time it would take for him to get up to speed. He wanted to be pissed off. Offended, even, that Aidan had no faith in him. It didn’t feel great, that was for sure.

“No way,” Levi said. “I know today wasn’t as good as it needs to be, but, dude, you’re kind of being a dick.”

Aidan’s hands clenched white around the steering wheel.

“I’m not, I’m being realistic. You are lock down at right tackle. And Acker will get better. It makes the most sense to go back to what we did before.”

“He’s not getting any better, and I know this is gonna work.” Levi frowned.

Aidan didn’t say anything.

“I really took you for someone who doesn’t just try something for a day and then give up ’cause it’s too hard,” Levi continued, because now he was a little pissed.

Had he read all this wrong? Was Aidan actually the unrelenting perfectionist that the world had made him out to be for all these years?

He’d seen something more, lurking under the surface, and assumed he was right about what that something more was. But what if he’d actually been wrong?

“That’s not—” Aidan broke off. “I’m not giving up because it was too hard. We tried it.”

“For one fucking practice!”

“Yeah, well, one was enough. I . . .you’re new to this team, Levi. You don’t have the automatic goodwill you had in Seattle. There aren’t unlimited fuckups available to you.”

Levi’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’m trying to keep you upright, you idiot.” Levi couldn’t believe this needed saying. “I don’t need your protection, but the opposite is sure as fuck true. It’s why I’m here. That’s my job.”

Aidan had known when he got into the car what he needed to say to Levi, and even though he’d been dreading it, because he knew how it would sound, he’d felt like he needed to do it anyway.

He was in meetings that Levi wasn’t in. Meetings with Zane and Robertson, their head coach. Meetings where everyone was bluntly honest about how the line and the whole offense was coming together and clicking. Nobody bothered to sugarcoat things for Aidan anymore. He wouldn’t have wanted them to.

But no matter what Aidan said to defend Levi, Zane wasn’t happy about Levi demanding the switch. He wasn’t happy with Ned for giving in to it either. Even if it was only on a trial basis.

Aidan knew how shitty life could get if your coach didn’t have any faith in you. It hadn’t happened in the NFL, but for a year at Michigan, there’d been a coordinator who’d wanted his handpicked QB to be the starter, and he’d done everything he could to topple Aidan from his spot.

He hadn’t won then, but Aidan wasn’t stupid enough to think that if Zane wanted Levi gone, he wouldn’t eventually be gone.