Page 183 of Hard Pass

“Lucas is pushing this new play, late in the fourth quarter if it’s a close game. We can’t seem to get it right. Not the receivers and sure as shit not me.”

“I’d ask what the play is but it’s not like I’d know it.”

“It’s this new rollout option to the right side. It’s a tight window throw over the middle if the coverage shifts.” I take a sip of my beer and shake my head. “You’ll know it when the assistant coordinator runs this sequence.” I make a few arm motions to demonstrate the play call.

A play call that will inevitably be made fourth quarter but that isn’t shit at all.

And with that, I just gave him two opportunities to place a bet if he’s the culprit.

Every part of me wants to take back all the shit I just said, but I take another sip instead and then blow out a long, drawn-out exhale.

“You’re really worried, aren’t you? That you’ll force the play?”

“Or miss it,” I say. “Or hesitate just enough and oops, there’s another interception. In practice, man, that’s what’s been happening.”

He leans back now, considering. “It’s not like you to talk like this.”

“Yeah. Well. Apparently, I’m full of surprises lately.”

“Meaning Dublin? That was definitely a surprise to all of us.” He shakes his head. “So did not see that coming. Malachi maybe, but you?” He snorts. “Never.”

“Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either.”

The only blind side I’ve ever welcomed in my life. I love you. I still can’t get over her saying those words to me or how they make me feel. Incredible. Surprised that it’s possible she could feel that way. Lucky as fuck that she does.

“That’s my point,” Tristan says. “You have her. Life is good. So why all this negativity?”

I grit my teeth for a beat, choking on the lie. “Because I’m worried about tomorrow. Big fucking time.”

“Fuck, you’ve got to stop thinking like that,” he says.

There’s a measured pause as the server walks past us. “Just don’t say anything to the guys. I don’t want them worried about it. You know how Jax gets about shit like this and then Malachi will try to be Mr. Fix-it. I knew if I needed to get it off my chest, I could tell you.”

“Of course. Anything you need. I’ve got you covered, man.”

That’s the problem. I used to be sure.

“And look, adjust on the fly if you need to,” he says. “You don’t feel the play? Don’t force it. You’ve got other options. Trust yourself. That’s how you’ve gotten this far.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” I tap my beer against his. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Always. That’s what friends are for.”

I nod because that’s what I’m supposed to do.

I take another sip of my beer, letting the conversation drift after that—into lighter shit, into jokes, into anything that doesn’t feel like I just set something fucked into motion.

But it’s there, sitting between us, in every word I just said and every detail I shouldn’t have shared.

I glance at one of my oldest friends. Same guy. Same expression. Same person I’ve trusted for years.

That’s why tomorrow will come and go, and I’ll walk off the field knowing I never should have doubted him.

He wouldn’t do this to me.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Dublin