"Coach on three. One. Two. Three. Coach!" The team roars, almost stunning the crowd with our ferocity. We rush to the middle of the field and get in formation.

The last two quarters are nothing but a bloodbath. We trade points back and forth with the other time. They take the lead by a couple points. And then we get the ball back and score.

It's not until the last two minutes of the game when I run the clock and send a throw down field to Dwayne. Dwayne leaps into the air and catches it over his opponent before dropping into the end zone. And that's when all hell breaks loose.

The marching band starts to play our school song. Students, teachers, and alumni jump over the bleachers and charge the field. I fall to the ground, overcome with relief and happiness. Until a hand pulls on my shoulder pads.

"Lester Fleming," the man quickly introduces himself as a pack of students rush toward me. "Professional league recruiter. Expect a call from me in the next couple days." The man winks at me before melding into the crowd.

My mouth drops. Just like that, my future is set in stone. I get a chance to play in the pros. A chance to be one of the best. A chance to do what most dream about.

And yet, it matters so little to me. So little compared to the person who's breaking through the crowd. So little compared to the girl who holds my heart.

"Casey." I throw my hands around her and hug her tight. Even through my uniform, I can feel the beat of her heart. Those blue eyes look up at me and I'm lost just, like the first time she bumped into me. "I love you."

"I love you too." She gives me a peck on the lips before she pulls away. "And I have a surprise for you."

I'm confused. I don't know if my heart can take any more surprises today. With Coach's accident, barely winning the most important game of my life, and Lester Fleming talking to me, I don't know how much more I can take.

"I know the results for your last final." She looks coyly at me.

"And? You can't keep me waiting like this. Did I pass or not?"

"You not only passed. You got a 94." She throws herself at me and I catch her petite body in my arms. She kisses my cheeks and every part of my face. "I'm so proud of you, David. I knew that you could do it."

And in this moment, I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with Casey Boone. A girl like her only comes into a guy's life once. She's everything that I could possibly want and more.

And there's no way that I am ever letting her go.

Not now. Not ever.

25.

Epilogue (One year later)

I blow on my cup of tea and walk into the backyard. Casper runs between my legs as he sees something across the yard. His head swivels and looks up into the trees, locking on the pesky squirrel that loves to tease him.

"You can't just be running between my legs like that, Casper." I sit down at the small bench at the back of the yard. It's the best seat in the place. I get to look up at the small house that David and I have bought. The shade from the oak tree is the best here in the blistering Texas heat and lets me read without the intense shine of the sun. The chorus of cicadas sounds through the air and gives me a warm feeling inside.

I can't believe how much has changed in a year. David took a football contract in Texas and I came straight here after I finished my studies. We've been together for over a year and everything couldn't be going better. We've even managed to buy ourselves a small home. Smaller than most expected, with David's million-dollar contract, but perfect for us. Something cozy, which means that we'll always be close together. A home that's big enough for us and Casper. I couldn't leave him behind. We, of course, got another dog for Coach Vaughn once we left.

While David travels for all of his games, I've been keeping myself busy at home. I've become a full-time author. Writing has always been a passion of mine. Something that I've always wanted to try. I use my history degree to weave worlds of mystery and wonder for the children's books that I write. David has been supportive all the way, even helping me come up with the names for characters.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a break and join me?" I shout across the yard. David has been out here all day. He's been running drills and throwing his football, getting ready for the next upcoming match. His dedication to his work is something that always amazes me. And even though he's busier than ever, he still takes the time to surprise me. Last week, he surprised me with a couple's retreat in the mountains. Just both of us, away from everything and everyone.

David jogs from the front of the house and sits down next to me. Sweat trickles down the side of his face and I fight the urge to lick it off. It's been over a year and I still can't keep my hands off him. No matter how hard that I try. Not that I try too hard. And he loves the attention that I give him.

Casper trots toward me and brings his head down. There's something in his mouth. A small black box.

"Casper, what is that?" I reach out and grab it out of his mouth. He shakes his head and blows his nose in retaliation, but relents when something catches his eye. Some force grabs at my heart.

The box is no bigger than a cellphone. It has black leather all around it with small gold lettering on top. Initials that I recognize from somewhere, but I can't remember where. I open it, and my heart nearly jumps out of my mouth.

The biggest diamond ring that I've ever seen stares back at me. The rays from the sun catch it perfectly in the middle, making it shine brighter than a star in the midnight sky. With a trembling hand, I pull it out of the box. I'm almost speechless.

"David, what is this?" I turn toward him, except he's not next to me. Instead, he's kneeling on the ground. Those green eyes of his glisten almost as bright as the diamond.

"Casey, will you-"

"Yes. Yes. Yes." I throw myself at him and we both fall to the ground. Our lips lock together and he squeezes me tight. "A thousand times yes," I whisper and push my head into his chest. David rests his head on mine and runs his hand down my back.

And neither of us say another word. We lay there in our backyard for what seems like forever. Neither of us wanting to break the moment.

Not now. Not ever.

26.

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About the Author.

For a limited time, your kindle edition of Big Jock includes another romance filled with action and a happily ever after:.

King : MC Romance.

Big Jock ends at around 60%.

Thanks for reading!.

King.

(Bad Boy/ 2nd chance/MC Romance).

By Vanessa Kinney.

Chapter 1.

The stars shine bright in the night sky, pulling me into their embrace. Tonight was a good night. Couldn't have asked for anything better at this point. Not for someone new to the art scene like myself.

"Let's go celebrate." Jean Le Clerc bumps into me, a martini glass still in his hand. He tilts it over his face, the last droplet sliding into his mouth. I have no idea how a man of his stature can drink so much and not be dead by the end of the night. Jean looks at the bottom of the glass as if hoping some vodka will somehow materialize there. "You have no idea how much money you've made me tonight, girl. Drinks will be on me. You down?" He almost falls over to the side and I catch him at the last second, making the both of us laugh uncontrollably.

Around the corner, I see the soft gleam of my blue, rusty van. My one piece of home that I brought all the way to Portland with me. The one thing that still holds all my memories from childhood. I lean against it for a moment, letting Jean's proposition sink in. "As enticing as that sounds, I'm exhausted. The sooner I get home and get out of these heels the better." The aching from the bottom of my soles hasn't stopped since I left. I curl my toes and say a little thanks that home is only ten minutes away.

Somehow, I managed to secure a loft on my petty salary. Well, it won't be so petty anymore. Not after tonight. I shouldn't have any problem paying the bills now, and that means I get to keep my loft and office space.

Jean places a open hand on the side of the van before thumping his head on it. He lets out a little groan and spins the martini glass between his fingers. I've never seen him this drunk before, and it almost makes me want to see what else the night holds for me.

Jean Le Clerc runs one of the most talked about galleries in Portland, Oregon. He's also the only friend that I have in Portland. Twice I've been featured by him and twice I've been a huge success. Selling all of my personal works and then some. I've gotten so many back orders after tonight that I have steady work for at least the next year. Jean takes a cut of all my work and after tonight's orders he's been celebrating a little too hard.

The driver side door screeches as I pull it open. I hop into the dingy van and stick the key into the ignition, hold my breath, and turn the it. I'm praying tonight's not the night that the streak breaks. There's a little rumble under the hood, and the headlights flicker against the brick wall before it gets going. I let my forehead rest on the steering wheel in relief.

"Camilla, you have to promise me that after tonight you'll get a new car." His eyes look the old van up and down. Taking in the rust thats gathered near the driver side door and underside. "I can't have my top artist rolling to the gallery in this thing. You're lucky I even let you park it on the same block as the gallery," he says, holding back laughter and rolling the stem of the martini glass in his hand.

"I will. I will. I promise." Although, it's an empty promise. This isn't the first time that he's asked me to get rid of it. But I just can't bring myself to do it.

There's too many memories wrapped up in this van to just let it rot in the back of a salvage yard. Most good, some bad. That's how most things work now a days.

Besides, as long as it starts, I don't see any reason to trade it in.

Jean rolls his eyes and beats on the side of the van before walking off. I switch the gears and hit the gas. The engine roars to life, but it doesn't budge from its spot.

Fuck! Not again. I hit my palm against the steering wheel and let a slew of curse words bounce around the inside.

When I'm done, I roll the window down and stick my head outside. I catch Jean just as he's about to round the corner back to the gallery. "Jean! Can you give me a boost?"

He stops in his tracks, his back facing me. His head drops down and he lets out an audible moan. One so loud that a couple of the stray dogs nearby join in.

He turns on his heel, marches to the back, rolls up his pristine sleeves, and pushes. "I'm way too dressed up and short to be doing this every other weekend, Cami!" he shouts over the pop of the exhaust pipe. In the side mirror, I can see his little face strain as he gives it his all. There's another pop from somewhere inside before the van starts to lumber along like a old man forced out of his comfy pea-colored lounge chair.

I throw a hand out the window and wave to him. All I need to do is get the ten blocks without stopping. If I have to call Jean up for another push, I'll never hear the end of it.

The car shakes and spasms at every stop sign. Halfway home, I resort to only half stopping at the red lights. Too scared that if I completely stop I'll be stuck on the spot. Also, going faster than thirty miles per hour is out of the question with this old rickety blue van.

"You got this," I say, rubbing the top of the dashboard. I can't lose this van. I refuse to. Even if it means throwing away all the money I've made from last night.

At this rate, it won't last the coming winter, but I can't bring myself to just discard it. My eyes shift to the rear view mirror, giving me a good look at the back of the interior.

The old, vomit green carpet stares back. Splotches of dried up soda are on the ground and bits of popcorn are stuffed between the cushions. Some of my best memories were made in the back of this van.

I can still clearly remember when my parents bought it for me the summer before junior year of high school. I could hear it coming down our block before I saw it. At the time, I knew that my parents had saved a lot of money to get it for me. It was their way of telling me that they were proud. And I was happy with it.

This van's gotten me through half of high school and all of college. Even helped me move across the country from Long Island to Portland. The back of this van was my little sanctuary. A place I could go when school or my parents were stressing me out.

There's a crinkle on my face and a smile breaks through. An image of Arthur Stone breaks to the forefront of my mind. I hadn't thought of him for at least an hour. To say that he's far from my mind would be a lie. Nothing will ever get Arthur "King" Stone out of my mind.

It's been four years since I left him and he still invades every part of my day. Even if I want him to or not.

We started dating around the time that I got this van. Maybe that's why we spent the majority of our relationship in the back seats. Our little place where we could meet and work out all of our problems. He would tell me about his foster parents and how shitty they treated him, while I talked about the pressure my parents were putting on me. In the back of this van was where our love grew. A match made in heaven, according to our families.

When our lives felt the worst, we would always joke about packing everything up and riding the van west, as far it would take us. I could sell my paintings from the back of the van while he used it for his underground races. King was always the one with a vivid imagination. More cause he just wanted to get away from his foster home.

We never did anything like that, but that didn't mean we couldn't dream. Countless hours would be spent talking about our journey across America. How people would talk about us.

The artist, the racer, and their rusty blue van.

Unfortunately, life doesn't work out the way you dream it will.

People grow up and realize that somethings aren't meant to be. King must have grown up faster than me when he decided that cheating with any girl that would open her legs was a better future for him than spending it with me.

In the end, I was the only one to take that trip across the country. The only passenger was a broken heart.

I reach a hand to my chest and feel a tug at my heart. I come up to another stop sign and let myself close my eyes for a moment. I can feel the emotions starting to take over.

Hurtful memories flood to the forefront. He's the reason that I left Long Island and came to Portland.

To get away from all his bullshit and start anew.

There was no reason to be with him anymore. He was more concerned with getting laid, racing, and doing drugs than being there for me. He made that painfully clear my senior year of college.

It's been hard, but I've made it out here by myself. Career wise, I'm at the cusp of my new life. Yet, there's still an empty spot in my heart. The empty spot that doesn't let me forget about King.