Page 54 of Perfect Storm (Toronto Thunder #1)

Levi had been thinking about this all week. He’d been thinking about it for longer than that, to be honest, but ever since he and Aidan had become them, he hadn’t been able to stop.

“Hey,” he said, approaching where Aidan was sitting on the bench in front of his locker.

Aidan raised a questioning eyebrow. “What’s up?” he asked.

Last night they’d FaceTimed Logan. He wouldn’t be at the game, because he’d be in Chicago, the Piranhas playing the Bears. He’d looked surprised when it was both Levi and Aidan crammed together on their screen.

Levi could swear that Logan hadn’t actually been all that surprised when he’d learned that the guy he’d been pining over had been Aidan Flynn. “Huh,” was all he’d said. “You tell Landry yet?”

“Not yet,” Aidan had said. Levi had added that their plan was to tell both Landry and Lyla tomorrow—after the game. “Good fucking luck with that,” Logan had teased.

Levi told himself he wasn’t nervous to ask. If Aidan said no, he’d say no. But he really, really wanted him to say yes.

“Griff says you typically are the guy who addresses the room before games,” Levi said. He had last week, but Levi hadn’t been sure if that was a weekly ritual, or a first-game-of-the-season kind of thing.

“Yeah,” Aidan said, nodding. “Typically.”

“I wanna do it, today.”

Aidan looked skeptical. “But—”

“I know, it’s the Condors and it’s your brother,” Levi continued in a rush. “But . . .just let me, okay?”

Aidan shot him a knowing little grin, the corner of his lips tilting up irresistibly. “How do you know I haven’t spent the whole offseason composing a killer motivational speech perfect for the first time we play Riley and Landry and the Condors?”

“I don’t,” Levi said. “But let me do this, okay?” For you, he didn’t say, but he hoped Aidan heard it anyway.

“Alright,” Aidan said.

“Seriously?”

“You want me to change my mind?” Aidan teased. “Besides, I’m very curious what you’ve come up with.”

Levi couldn’t say his speech was brilliant or anything—but it was going to come straight from his heart, which they’d already established belonged entirely to Aidan.

“Okay. Awesome.”

Aidan was still smiling, his Levi smile. The one that filled Levi’s stomach with warmth, until it felt like he was drowning in love.

“Have a good game, alright?” Aidan said, reaching out and wrapping a hand around Levi’s wrist, squeezing.

“You’re gonna kill it,” Levi said, because he already believed it was true.

“Hope you’ve got more than that up your sleeve,” Aidan joked.

He did.

A few minutes later Coach Robertson walked in, and he gave his sweet and very short motivational speech.

“Get out there and execute,” he challenged, meeting each and every guy’s gaze as his eyes swept over the locker room.

“I know what you’re capable of. You know what you’re capable of.

Deliver it.” He paused, and the room exploded in yells and cheers.

Coach, Levi had been learning, didn’t have to say much for what he did say to be effective.

“Flynn, you’ve got anything?” he added, when the noise finally died down a bit.

Aidan tilted his head at Levi, who stood. He wasn’t usually the kind of guy who spoke out. At least he’d never been in Seattle. He knew both his brothers could be—when the occasion called for it—but to Levi’s thinking, he hadn’t felt the need. Not until now.

“I might be new here,” Levi said, looking around the room.

“But I’m not new to this rivalry, not really.

You know my brother’s going to be lining up against our defense.

You know Aidan’s brother will be too. I keep hearing this bullshit chatter that Riley’s the new Flynn.

That he’s the better Flynn. But I don’t have to have spent tons of time here to know what Aidan brings to this team.

How he has every single one of your backs.

How hard he works for you—so he can give his best on Sundays.

You know what it’s time for? For you to have his back.

To give him back some of that dedication.

Let’s show the world who our QB is, okay? ”

Levi couldn’t look at Aidan while he was talking. If he did, he was afraid he’d fucking chicken out. Not go where he knew he wanted to go.

But now he glanced over at him, among the catcalls after Levi had sat, and Aidan’s cheekbones were flushed pink.

He looked embarrassed and totally fucking pleased.

Good.

Levi raised his chin as they stared at each other, daring Aidan to argue with anything he’d just said, but Aidan only finally smiled back.

That’s right, baby, I got your back. Forever.

That had never felt like more than the truth than when the game finally started.

The Condors had a tough defensive line—aggressive and strong, but also surprisingly fast, and Levi was glad he’d gotten his feet under him during the last game, because he felt like he was fighting every single play.

It wasn’t just the linebacker corps that was making their jobs tough, though. Beckett West and Micah Rose were in the backfield, shadowing Mo and even Lane and Trevor. Making it hard for them to get open.

Every time Aidan dropped back, he was holding the ball a second longer than he normally did, trying to wait out the coverage, hoping someone might break away so he could hit them.

Two times on the first two offensive drives Aidan had ended up scrambling, trying to avoid a sack and not quite getting there both times.

“We’ve got to get something going,” Lane complained on the sideline after the second drive went nowhere.

At least the Condors were also struggling with getting their offense down the field—they’d only scored three points.

“We’re gonna find a way,” Aidan said, picking up a tablet, flicking through the last drive. He glanced over at Levi. “Can’t keep expecting you guys to keep the pocket clean that long.”

Levi wanted to tell him that they could, but he wasn’t naive enough to think he could keep that promise. He had his hands full, and so did Acker, on the other side.

On the last play of the last drive, Griff had been straight up driven back, practically into Aidan.

“Put Trevor on the line,” Lane suggested.

Trevor was an inch taller than his brother and slightly bigger, but despite that, Lane was a better blocker than his younger stepbrother.

“Zane says no,” Aidan relayed, listening to their offensive coordinator’s instructions in the headset. “We’re going to try some more running plays. Try to find a rhythm on the next drive.

It sort of worked.

They made it to the thirty-five-yard line and ultimately stalled out.

Dawson came out and tied the game, kicking the ball right between the uprights, like he’d never had a reason to miss last year.

Aidan should’ve been happy about that, but Levi could see the remnants of frustration on his face.

The Thunder and the Condors traded punts back and forth, but late in the second quarter, the Condors found the rhythm that the Thunder seemingly couldn’t and pushed deep into the red zone.

And on fourth down, instead of going with the safe move of kicking the field goal, Riley took the snap and, after pump faking to the right, ended up dodging through traffic to run the ball in himself for a touchdown.

In the locker room, Aidan leaned in and said to Levi, “I fucking want to win this game. I’m tired of losing.”

He didn’t have to say why. Once had been fine. Twice had sucked. Three times was pretty terrible.

Four would be catastrophic, and Aidan was going to do whatever it took to change the narrative.

Zane had come down from the upper booth and he and Aidan huddled around with Mo, Lane, Trevor, and the rest of the offensive line, working on some more plays that might give them a drive or two.

The defense held the Condors to a punt on their opening drive, and then it was Aidan’s turn.

Levi looked at him across the huddle and knew whatever Aidan was determined to do, Levi would be right there with him.

But it wasn’t just him. Aidan was pulling them all together through sheer strength of will, ten years of leadership in the NFL showing in this moment.

“Let’s get it done,” Aidan said earnestly after he’d called out the play.

He didn’t need to say that everyone was going to need to go above and beyond to make it happen.

They all knew.

A team as good as the Condors? When you wanted to be that good or better? They were going to have to bring the dedication.

Aidan clapped, breaking up the huddle, and Levi took his position on the edge, his focus narrowing to only the player in front of him.

The guy was a good rusher, pushing Levi’s skills and athleticism every single down, not letting him take a single breather.

He fought hard, but Levi was going to fight harder.

He dug down deep, deep into the well of motivation, and after Griff snapped the ball, pulled out a great block, feet moving fast, his bulk pushing the guy forward instead of letting him move both of them backwards, right into Aidan’s space.

Behind him, he heard Aidan call out, and a second later, Mo was crossing over the middle of the zone and he had the football. He pulled a fancy cut, almost reminiscent of his old speed, and Levi knew it wasn’t only him who wanted to pull this win out for Aidan. Mo wanted it too.

They went down the field like that. Not every play gained the yards they needed—and they had to get third downs twice, but they made it to the red zone, and on second down and goal, four yards away, they ran one of Zane’s two tight end formations and Lane snagged the ball, fooling the defense by not blocking on the line like he had been most of the drive, but rolling out just past the goal line.

Aidan was pumped up on the sideline after that, and even though there were a few touch and go moments—Riley scrambled and broke into a thirty-five-yard run at one point that had thunderclouds descending across Aidan’s face—the Thunder marched down the field three more times, and by the end of the fourth quarter, the scoreboard read Thunder 27, Condors 13.