Page 35 of Run the Play (Nashville Rampage #2)

Chapter Nineteen

L andry

Two minutes left on the play clock, and the Cougars have the ball. This game has been brutal. The Cougars have upped their defense this year, and I’m feeling it. We’re all feeling it. However, we’re still up by one touchdown.

I’m ready for this game to be over. I need a shower and to be at home in bed with Rowan lying on my chest. I can’t ever remember a time in my life when I was ready for a game just to end. This is a first. It’s also the first time I’ve had anything to look forward to afterward.

Rowan and I have been official, none of that faking shit, for over a month. Six weeks, to be exact, and I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t know what I was missing. Having her in my life has been the greatest gift.

“Offense!” Coach Warner calls out.

Slipping on my helmet, I make my way out onto the field. Knox pulls us into the huddle and calls out the play. “Reynolds, you ready to end this?” he asks me.

“You know it, Cap,” I immediately reply. I fight the urge to glance at the sidelines for my girl, but I hold strong.

Having her on the sidelines is fucking incredible, but it’s also a distraction.

I have to make it a point not to stand next to her when we’re not on the field.

I have to keep my head in the game. However, it doesn’t stop me from racing to her to do our celebratory handshake every time I make a touchdown.

This game, that’s been zero. The Cougars’ defense has been double-teaming me all damn day.

Knox calls out the play, Keen hikes the ball, and I shoot out like a lightning bolt.

My arms and legs pump as fast as they can go.

I can feel their defenders on my ass, and I kick my pace into a higher gear.

Turning, I see the ball flying toward me, but so is their defenseman.

As soon as the ball lands in my hands, I’m tackled to the ground.

The hit is brutal, and my body feels it as we collide onto the turf.

“Fuck, that hurts,” I mutter. Opening my eyes, I see one of the Cougars waiting, holding his hand out to help me up.

“You good, Reynolds?” He smirks.

“Fuck off, Sanderson,” I quip, which only makes him laugh. I place my hand in his and allow him to pull me up.

Two more times, we run similar plays, and each time, I’m tackled to the ground. I’m definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

Coach calls in our kicker, Hank Martin, because we’re within field goal range.

At least something good came out of that hard-ass hit.

Jogging off the sidelines, I rip off my helmet and watch the action unfold.

It’s as if I’m watching it all in slow motion as Hank kicks the ball.

I follow its path with my gaze as it flies through the center of the uprights.

“Fuck yeah!” I cheer. Anything can happen, I know that, but with less than a minute on the play clock, we’re up by eleven points. The Rampage is taking home the win.

“Load up!” Coach Warner bellows.

Since we’re so close to home, we’re driving back on the buses tonight.

We played the early one o’clock game, so it makes sense.

Besides, we’re all ready to be home. I know I am.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I search for Rowan.

I don’t see her in the masses. Something in my gut tells me that’s not right.

I scan, looking for Chaz, and I don’t see him either.

I’m getting ready to step onto the bus, but I whirl around and stalk back toward the locker room.

“Reynolds!” Coach booms. “Get your ass back here.”

I don’t reply. Instead, I choose to ignore him, drop my bag, and begin to jog back to the stadium. My gut churns with anxiety. There’s a lot of us—between the team, the coaching staff, the trainers, and so on—but I can always find her in the crowd. Always.

Pushing through the doors, I race down the hall toward the locker room. The halls are eerily empty, and that only amps up my anxiety even more. When I reach the locker room door, I tug it open and begin to scan the area. It’s not until I hear a faint whimper that I rush to the showers.

What I find has anger and fear boiling in my veins. Chaz has Rowan on the floor, his hand fisted roughly in her hair, with his pants around his ankles, trying to force her to—I can’t even think of the words.

“Let her go!” I call out to him. I race into the showers and make eye contact with Rowan.

Her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, her hair is disheveled, and so are her clothes.

It’s the look in her eyes, the fear that I feel in my chest reflected at me in those baby blues.

It takes everything I have in me not to go to her.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Chaz seethes.

“Let her go, Chaz.” I take another step toward them.

I can’t rush him for fear of her getting hurt.

I just need him to let go of her, and then his ass is mine.

I’m displaying strength I didn’t know I had.

Watching her on the floor, as he treats her like a rag doll, kills me.

My hands fist at my sides, my fingernails dig into my palms. I keep reminding myself that I can’t go off half-cocked and attack him, because she could get hurt, even more hurt than she already is in the process.

I take a deep breath to try to calm the raging storm that’s churning inside me.

“You stole her from me. She’s mine!” Spittle flies out of his mouth, and he looks deranged.

“She’s not a possession,” I tell him. I’m trying like hell to keep my voice steady, to keep her calm with my tone, but it’s one of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to do.

“She left you because you hurt her. You put her in the hospital. You took advantage of her, isolated her, and she found the courage to leave you.” With each word I speak, he grows more agitated.

“Let her go.” My voice is hard. My eyes scan to Rowan.

She’s crying and from the look on her face, his grip on her hair is painful.

Fuck, I need him to let her go. Then it’ll just be us. Man to man.

He yanks on her hair, harder this time, and Rowan whimpers.

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you!” he roars.

“Rowan, baby, just breathe,” I tell her, forcing my voice to be steady.

I can see panic starting to set in. “I’m right here,” I tell her.

I hope she understands that means I’m going to get her away from him.

How? I’m not sure, but fuck, I’m going to save her from him.

I don’t want to rush him and risk her getting hurt, but if that’s what it comes down to, then that’s what I’ll do.

“Don’t call her that!” Chaz yells.

The locker room door slams open and in walks Coach Warner, followed by Knox, Reid, Baker, and Foster. “What the hell is going on here?” Coach quickly assesses the situation. “Brown, let her go.” His voice is booming. Commanding.

“She’s mine. I had her first,” Chaz rants.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. Take your hands off Ms. Mills. Now!” he thunders, his voice echoing throughout the shower room.

“He took her,” Chaz spits. He grins, and it’s not an “I’m happy” grin, it’s sinister, and scary as fuck considering he’s got his hands on my girl. “She was mine, and that fucker took her.”

“Okay, then let her go and settle this with me. Like a man. Don’t take this out on Rowan.” I’m pleading, and fuck me, I’m not above begging him if that’s what it takes.

“She’s ruined now. Now that you’ve had her.

She’s ruined.” He looks down at Rowan. “You fucked him,” he says, spitting on her.

“I’ll erase him from your mind. You won’t be able to remember him by the time I’m done with you.

” He yanks again on her hair, and Rowan cries out in pain.

That sounds slices through me like a rusty knife.

“I’ll teach you a lesson, whore!” he screams at her.

His eyes are wild, and it’s clear to see he’s unhinged.

There’s no coming back from this for him.

Fire floods my veins, burning so hot it’s blinding.

A rage like I’ve never known flows through my body.

I take another step closer, and he steps back, pulling Rowan up by her hair as if she’s nothing but a toy to be tossed around.

She cries out in pain as she stumbles to steady herself, and I freeze.

He’s hurting her because of me. I’m hurting her, and the agony that rips through me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

I immediately stop. My eyes find hers and I try to tell her without words that I’m here.

I want to tell her I’m sorry for hurting her, even though it was indirectly.

I need to tell her I’m sorry he got to her, because I promised her he never would.

“Please,” I rasp. “Let her go.” My voice cracks.

She’s the woman I love, and I’ve never told her.

I’ve never said those three little words, afraid they would push her away, and now, I wish more than anything I would have said them, and fought for her when she tried to say things were moving too fast. Now, she’s here with him, being dragged around like a goddam rag doll, and all I can do is stand here and watch.

I’m useless to her, because his response to my actions will hurt her again, and every molecule inside my body rebels against seeing her hurt.

My only choice is to stand here as I fall to pieces on the inside, while trying to give a semblance of calm to her.

“Brown. Let. Her. Go!” Coach booms.

“Fuck you,” Chaz seethes.