Finally Forever His

Twelve.

LIAM.

Adrenaline.

     All that I feel coursing through my veins as I sprint down the field.

Anger.

     All that I feel dissipating, radiating off my body before it blows away in the wind the faster I run.

40 yards.

     She fucking left me for four years.

50 yards.

     I busted my ass to try and talk to her, to call her. To figure out what the hell happened.

60 yards.

     I fucking convinced myself she was dead.

70 yards.

     She came back and fucked up my entire thought process. I feel like more of a pussy than my damn second string TE is.

80 yards.

     She lied to me. She lied, and what she lied to me about was right in front of my damn face. It was as conspicuous as Pinocchio's damn nose.

90 yards.

     And she has the nerve to throw it on me. Okay, I lied about some girl who is about as important to me as the lint on a ceiling fan.

100 yards.

     I have a fucking daughter.

     Making a sharp turn, I sprint back to the 10 yard line before going back to the end zone, and then running to the 20 and back, then the thirty and so on and so on.

     When I reach the other end of the field, back to where the coaches are, I breathe in sharply before turning to repeat the suicide, but McDaniels pulls me back harshly. "Slow your role, Small Fry. You ain't a running back."

     "I'm fine." I grunt, my heart still going a hundred miles a minute. I have a fucking daughter. I can feel my blood simmering again. I grit my teeth. "I'm fucking fine." I move forward, but he pushes me back even harder. The man is strong, believe it or not.

     "Let's go hit the weights, kid." He starts walking before me, and I groan before heading after him, knowing that's his way of killing me before he gives me a lecture.

     "Forte." White, a running back falls into step with me, and laughs when he sees me struggling to catch my breath. "You good, man?"

     "Hell yeah, I'm good. You good?" I raise a brow and he nods his head.

     "Saw your girl earlier," he whistles looking off to the other guys that are finishing up their sprints. "She's got a nice one."

     I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what he's talking about. "Yeah, I thought her necklace was nice too." I glance at him from the corner of my eye before pointing to one of the water bottles a guy had in a caddy.

     He hands it to me and I twist the cap before drinking from it. I'm not a fan of the whole squeezing the bottle and spraying water into my mouth. I'll leave that to the ladies when I'm the one—

     "That's not what I was talking about." James, is his first name, breaks me from my thoughts and nod my head.

     "I'm aware, White." My tone has a warning to it, telling him to leave Jasmine out of our conversation. I'd love to brag about her body to the guys, but right now I don't know if I want to fuck her or choke her. Maybe both.

     "I mean, she has a nice rack too, you know..." He starts.

     "Cut that shit out, that's my lady." I remind him. He holds both his hands up in surrender as we turn to head inside the gym.