and next across the sidelines, the drills came to a pause, the conversations went quiet, except for the sporadic catcalls, even the fans and reporters who had heckled Reese when she first walked out of the stadium stayed silent as she focused on the ball.
Noble inhaled, her back moving as she took in that breath, then she shifted back and to the left, lunging forward, her foot connecting with the ball and it went soaring, spinning like a bullet.
It landed perfectly through the uprights.
“Fuck me!” Wilkens cried, his shout heralding in the roars and shocked cheers from the teams and coaches, the cheers from the crowd and the loudest, sharpest congratulations from Reese’s father calling to her from the stands.
Cat looked behind them, her smile wide, not holding back her laugh or the claps she made, joining in with the rest of the crowd around her.
“Excellent,” Gia said, her smile only lowering when Mills approached, his face red.
“Fifty!” he said, cutting the good mood of the moment with his temper, pointing his thumb at the goal for Wilkens to reset for another kick. “Dumb fucking luck, that –” he started, and Gia joined Ricks to intercede.
“Dumb fucking talent,” the head coach said. Gia trailed behind him, trying to hold back the urge she felt to scream at that misogynistic asshole. But Ricks seemed capable enough at deflating Mills’ attitude. “We had this chat. When I signed her.” He nodded to Reese, his face hard, as though he was tired of repeating himself.
“Coach, she’s–” There was a whine in Mills’ voice that seemed to get under Ricks’ skin enough that he cut the man off with a wave of his hand, silencing him immediately.
“If you can’t condition my players, Mills—all my players—I’m sure we can find someone who can.” Ricks glanced at Reese, head shaking when he looked back at the man. “You know better than to overwork your kickers, Mills.”
That hard-edge expression that always seemed to make his round face a bit older than his fifty-five years and somewhat more gaunt, smoothed out when he gave the placekicker an appraising glance, nodding before he spoke. “You’re gonna piss a lot of people off.”
“Story of my life, Coach.” She released a breath, but shook her head, like she couldn’t help stating the truth.
“Hell,” Ricks told her, “I don’t care if you do. It’ll get asses in the bleachers.”
“More importantly,” Gia said, bringing their attention to her as she pulled off her shades and pointed at the coach. “We might stand a chance at the playoffs.” She glanced back toward the field, spotting the running back Kenya Wilson chatting with offensive lineman Miles Baker, both had outstanding stats the season before. She moved her gaze to Robert Hanson, the third-round draft pick who was still a little green and somewhat of an asshole, but who had landed Rookie of the Year and helped the Steamers make it to the NFC championship. Hanson stood next to the QB, Ryder Glenn, who, for some reason was the only veteran who’d fought hard against Reese’s tryout. He’d been coached by her father at Duke. Their families had history, but Gia didn’t know the details. She’d find that shit out when she had the time, but for now, Glenn looked healthy and he’d ended last year with over thirty-five hundred passing yards in the regular season. The only person missing was Pukui. She shook her head, pushing back the heated memory of that night at Summerland’s and the stupid mistake she’d made with him. He was one of the best linemen in the league. She scanned the field, squinting across the sidelines when she didn’t see him. That was a solid week now and the asshole still wasn’t back.
She faced Ricks again, more confident now about their chances, despite Pukui being M.I.A. “You’ve got something special this season, Coach.”
“Hope you’re right,” he told her, offering Reese a nod before he turned to Mills, slapping his back to usher him away from the players.
Gia looked down at Reese, giving the woman nothing but her examining stare, holding her mouth in a line before a twitch in her bottom lip pulsed and she nodded, silently beckoning the kicker to walk with her.
“That was ballsy,” she told her, pushing the shades back over her eyes. “And risky.”
Gia stopped, staring at Reese, her gaze flicking to Cat as she typed out a text on her cell next to Kenya Wilson. The man looked at her, then did a double take,