I TOSS MY phone on the counter and it slides several feet, almost ending up on the floor. My own family betrays me by taking sides with Jordan. And I sound like a pussy. Watching Jordan's lips cover the bite marks on that apple where Lane's lips had been pissed me off. The juice running down Jordan's mouth turned me the hell on too.

I woke up and she was still sleeping. I thought about waking her and making good on my promise but decided she needed the rest. So I let her sleep and I behaved like a gentleman. I regret it now.

Jealousy is not an emotion I'm accustomed to. Hell, I know there is nothing going on between her and Lane but damn. I claimed those lips. They drive me crazy and if I'm going crazy over them I know other players have the same thoughts.

Lips for God's sake.

I pace around my living room for at least five minutes before settling down and flicking through channels on the TV. Two minutes later and I would have missed Mike Goodwyn's diatribe.

"So, folks, after three preseason games the joke of the football community is still standing. She can kick a ball, I'll give her that, but so far she hasn't taken a hit and lived to tell about it. I think the opposing teams are afraid to go after the little kicker for fear of retribution for hitting a woman. This is football, guys, and you need to put a quick stop to this little girl who thinks she can play with the big boys."

"Asshole," I mutter and click to another station. I'm so ready for the actual season to start. Maybe Jordan can take a hit and maybe she can't. I have a feeling she's made of stronger stuff than people give her credit for.

I won't play during this last preseason game. It doesn't bother me to sit out before regular season starts. No, it's not why I'm restless. Earlier today I heard whispering in the weight room. Something's up. I don't know why I think this pertains to Jordan but I do. I have a bad feeling going into this last preseason game. I walk over and grab my phone to send a text to Jordan.

Me: Don't believe anything they say. Call me tomorrow so we can talk.

Me: Please.

I order take-out and spend the evening in front of the television. Jordan ignores me.

***

Two days later, I still haven't heard from her.

Final cuts came down yesterday, and this last preseason game will be the difference in a starting position and playing second or third string for the rest of the guys. The home stands quickly fill for the late afternoon game. Excitement is thick in the air. Game four is usually a walk in the park for me because I do little more than stroll up and down the sidelines checking for problems on the frontline. When I see something, I relay it to Coach Mitchel.

The only difference nowI can't take my mind off Jordan wondering why she never replied to my text. Her silence is driving me insane. I'm a man, and my mother has mentioned many times that it's synonymous with being an asshole. Maybe she'll talk to Jordan on my behalf. My damn sisters have chosen sides and they haven't returned my calls either. This man needs a break.

Kelson Miller is the star in the first half. He's dead on tonight. Third string will take over after halftime but I'm actually relieved to see Kelson at his best. We need him, bad attitude and all. Jordan kicks two extra points and we're up by fourteen when we head into the locker room.

"Good job," I say when I pass her. She nods before quickly turning away. I need to get better at this whole relationship thing.

Coach Mitchel and the defensive coordinator give their spiel, we take a quick bathroom break, and then head back on the field for the second half. Fergus, the third-string QB, holds his own until two minutes before the fourth quarter begins. He almost throws an interception, but it's tipped by a player's hands and lands out of bounds. This means Jordan's up for a field goal.

The number nine jerseys in the crowd go crazy. I wouldn't normally pay attention to Kelson because he usually grumbles before going onto the field to hold the football. This time, he doesn't say a word, gives one of the special teams lineman a slap on the back, and jovially runs onto the field.

The players line up and the center hikes the ball to Kelson. Jordan's focus is the football and she runs forward. I know something's wrong when her step hitches slightly before she reaches the ball. I also notice half-assed blocking by a few of the players. The ball is deflected and it spins upward. There's a mad dash to catch the ball in the air when it bounces off a player's fingers and Jordan snags it.

Shit.

Multiple opposing players descend and she's lost beneath a sea of uniforms. Whistles blow and play stops. What the hell was she thinking? The stadium is silent as players begin rolling out of the pileup and taking their feet. The other team is pointing to their side, claiming they have the ball. Jordan is on her back when she's finally visible. She holds the ball up and fans go crazy. A player puts his hand out and helps her stand. I can't keep a grin off my face until I see her hold her arm close to her chest.

"Get her off the field," Coach Mitchel yells.

Trainers run out and speak to her as she walks to the sidelines. I have no choice but to stand back as they check her for injuries. One of the trainers helps get her helmet off and pain is clearly etched on her face. She grimaces when they move her arm. A few minutes later they decide she needs X-rays and she leaves the field to a standing ovation.

"What the hell?" I demand from Kelson.

He sneers. "Having trouble seeing your girlfriend take a hit?"

Mason grabs my arm and pulls me back when I take an angry step toward Kelson. "There's a game going on," says one of the coaches who's standing next to us.

I seethe and watch the clock tick down as we go into the fourth quarter.

This game can't be over quick enough.