My Secret Deal 25

Something was wrong.
Even before the whistle blew, even before the first snap, I could feel it deep in my stomach. Jake stood on the field like he was carved from stone — rigid, locked in place, but not locked into focus.
His jaw was tight, his shoulders stiff, and his eyes didn’t scan the field like they usually did. Instead, they locked on one person.
Travis.
And Travis? He smirked every single time Jake looked his way.
It wasn’t a rivalry anymore. It was a countdown.

The game started sharp, the tackles louder than usual, the grunts more aggressive, and the hits landing just a little too personally.
Jake missed his first pass.
It wasn’t catastrophic — not for most players — but for Jake, it was rare.
He swore under his breath, flexed his hands, and shook his head like he was trying to jolt himself back to life. His teammates clapped him on the back, and Mike leaned in to say something close to his ear that made Jake nod once — tight and mechanical.

On the next play, Jake clicked back in. The fire was back in his feet.
He threw a long, gorgeous pass to the right corner, and his team scored first. The crowd exploded in a wild roar. Jake didn’t even celebrate. He just turned and walked back like it was nothing, but I saw it — the way his eyes still drifted back to Travis.

Travis answered a few minutes later, not just with a touchdown, but with a full display. He threw the ball high into the air, beat his chest, and let Angela jump into his arms for a kiss that looked straight out of a bad teen drama.
Jake didn’t react — at least, not outwardly — but I saw the twitch in his hands, the slow curl of his fingers like he was gripping something invisible.

Midway through the second quarter, everything cracked.

Jake’s team was lining up when Mike, his best receiver, jogged into position. As he did, Leo — one of Travis’s closest friends from our school — casually walked past him, stuck out a foot, and tripped him hard.
Mike hit the turf shoulder-first with a brutal thud.

I gasped along with half the stadium as boos and angry shouts echoed all around us.
The whistle blew, shrill and urgent.

Jake didn’t hesitate.
He stormed over, ripping off his helmet, veins popping along his neck.
“What the hell is your problem?” he barked at Leo.

Leo just laughed, completely unbothered. “Relax, golden boy. Was just stretching my leg.”

“Stretch it on someone else,” Jake snapped back, giving him a hard shove.

Leo didn’t move, but Travis stepped in fast.

“Back off,” Travis said.

Jake glared at him. “Tell your boy to stop playing dirty.”

Travis leaned closer, voice low and taunting. “Maybe if you weren’t so distracted, you’d see what’s really happening.”

Jake took a step closer, fists clenched. “Try me.”

Travis smirked — that smug, knowing smirk that only comes from someone who has already found the perfect place to drive the knife deeper.
He leaned in and said something, too low for me to hear.

But I saw Jake’s face change.

It was like someone had flipped a switch and turned off the light inside him.

Jake took a single step back. Then he lunged.

He punched Travis hard, square in the jaw.
The crowd erupted into screams — some in shock, some in wild approval.

Jake didn’t stop.
He hit him again. And again.
Travis went down, but Jake kept swinging, fists flying, teeth gritted, like he had been waiting for this moment all season.

Refs ran in from every side, teammates dove in to pull them apart.
Mike grabbed Jake’s shoulders and shouted, “Jake — stop!” but it was like he wasn’t even there.

Jake was seeing red.

I sprinted down the stands, pushing through the gate and running toward the chaos.

“Jake!” I screamed. “Jake, please!”

But he didn’t hear me.

Someone else did.

A hand snapped tight around my wrist, freezing me in place.

I turned — and felt the blood drain from my face.

It was my mother.
Her hair was perfectly pinned, her lips a thin line, her eyes hard and polished like stone.

“You lied to me,” she said, her voice sharp and cold.

“Mom—” I started, but she cut me off.

“I know everything.”

I stood frozen as she dropped her gaze to my hip.
The corner of my shirt had ridden up in the scramble, revealing the clover tattoo inked against my skin — small, innocent, and utterly damning.

Her expression twisted with disgust.

“You’ve been sneaking out. Lying. Sleeping with a violent boy. And this—” she gestured sharply at the brawl still unfolding behind us— “this is who you’ve been hiding?”

“Mom, please—” I tried, but she stepped closer, her voice dropping even lower, trembling with fury.

“You’re done here.”

“What?” I whispered, the word barely audible.

“You’re being pulled out of Central. Effective immediately.”

“No—” I gasped.

“You’ll be transferred to St. Eloise on Monday,” she said. “Boarding school. Far from him. Far from this.”

Tears stung my eyes and blurred the world around me. “You can’t—”

“I can,” she said, her voice cracking for the first time. “And I will.”

“I love him,” I said, the words breaking out of me, fast and fierce and raw.

She flinched like I had struck her.

“You don’t know what love is,” she said, her voice hollow. “And I won’t watch you destroy your future over a boy who can’t even control his fists.”

Her grip on my wrist tightened, bruising, as she pulled me toward the exit.

“You’re done here,” she hissed. “Now.”

I tried to dig my heels into the ground. “Mom, no — please —”

But she didn’t loosen her grip.
She dragged me through the crowd, ignoring the shouting, the confusion, the chaos still erupting behind us.

“Mom, let me talk to him — just for a second — he needs me—” I begged, half-sobbing.

“You need help,” she snapped back. “And starting Monday, you’ll get it at St. Eloise.”

I couldn’t breathe. “You’re serious—”

“You’re going. This is over.”

I twisted around, desperate for one last glimpse of him.

Jake was still being held back by two referees, his lip split, rage and heartbreak burning in his eyes.

But I couldn’t reach him.

I couldn’t even say goodbye.

Because she was pulling me harder now, dragging me away from the only person who had ever made me feel truly seen.

And as the stadium lights blurred into a smear of noise and color, I realized I didn’t know when — or if — I would ever see him again.