Sunday, February 8, 2026
🏈Sunday's Sport Stats🏈: The Player by Felice Stevens
Friday night lights hide more than they reveal…
When retired NFL superstar Keller Williams returns to his small town to coach his old high school football team, he’s surprised how much he enjoys being out of the limelight and on the field with the kids. Even more surprising is his immediate attraction to the father of one of his players—single dad Niall Harper.
Problem number one: Niall Harper isn’t gay.
Problem number two: Keller isn’t out to the world.
Problem number three: Niall hates his guts. And Keller has no idea why.
High school librarian Niall Harper has always done the right thing. Except be true to himself. Divorced and raising his teenaged son, Niall is dismayed to discover the new football coach is none other than his long-ago Friday night fantasy and nemesis. Not that it matters—Keller doesn’t remember him. It’s nothing new; Niall has always been easy to forget. Now Keller wants to be friends. And more. Niall can’t deny the annoying man makes him laugh and feel things he’d only dreamed possible. But would a player like Keller be satisfied with a regular guy like him?
Being together is more than complicated, but they are willing to take the risk. Niall reveals he’s dating his son’s coach, and Keller comes out to the team, his fans, the press, and small-town gossips. Neither is prepared for the fallout, but that doesn’t stop them. It’s time to throw the Hail Mary pass of a lifetime and win the game of forever. And they’re ready.
Chapter One
They say you can’t go home again.
But here he stood, on the field of his former glory years, thinking of those Friday night lights and cheers so loud, if he stopped to listen, memories of them still whispered in the sluggish, late August air.
The crowd rose to their feet. The quarterback launched a perfect spiral to him, and he raced into the end zone with four seconds left on the clock and caught the winning touchdown.
“Keller! Keller!”
The ground shook, and the state championship was theirs. His teammates piled on top of him, then carried him on their shoulders.
At seventeen, he’d thought the world was his.
“Keller? That you?”
He spun around to see his old teammate, Bobby Contard, standing by the fence. God, he looked…old. Thinning blond hair and a paunch most likely from sitting in a recliner, downing too many beers in too short a time. The same wide, goofy smile.
“Hey, Bobby. Yeah, it’s me.”
“Son of a bitch. Keller Williams. It’s really you.”
They stood face-to-face, former teammates who hadn’t seen each other since they’d left for college. Keller had been drafted to the NFL while Bobby had flunked out, returned home to their small Upstate New York town, and gone to work at Home Depot.
“How’re you doing, Bobby? Been a minute.”
“Longer than that, but yeah.” A quick duck of his head. “Sorry about your arm. Sucks, man.”
Devastation came in all forms. For Keller, it was a bad hit that had upended him as he’d been about to make a catch. It knocked the wind out of him and sent him crashing to the ground, his arm bent at a frightening, unnatural angle. He’d heard the snap, and before passing out from the pain, had known with overwhelming clarity that it was the last time he’d ever play football.
“Yeah. It’s healed okay now, but man, I can tell the weather better than those people on TV.” He forced a grin.
“Whatcha doing back here? Just passing through and come to see your old haunts?”
“I’ve been back other times. For my mom.”
Just saying it brought the inevitable, knife-twisting pain in his gut.
Bobby scratched his head. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
“At least they got the bastard who hit her.” A drunk driver had taken the Main Street curve too fast and hit an icy patch, sending his car spinning out of control. It had smashed into a group of people in the parking lot of the Overlook Diner. Three wounded, one dead. His mother, Patricia Williams. She’d been out celebrating her sixtieth birthday early with her girlfriends. The next morning, she was to have gotten on a plane to come visit him for a fabulous weekend together in Vegas. Keller had made all the plans for them—spas, shows, and a spectacular dinner. Instead, he’d found himself making arrangements for her funeral.
“And to answer your question, no, I’m not passing through. I’m coming home.”
“Home? To Overlook?” Bobby scrunched up his nose. “Why? Nothing’s changed from when you left. It’s still the same quiet little town. Nothing like Vegas, I’m sure.”
Overlook was hardly the hot spot of Upstate New York. Situated midway between Cortland and Syracuse, there wasn’t much going on, but it was for that precise reason that Keller was happy to return. Fourteen years in the NFL, he’d seen it all—and had enough.
“I was ready for a change. And I got a call from Coach Weaver.”
Bobby’s eyes grew wide with sudden understanding. “You’re the new high school football coach they hired? We heard they’d gotten someone, but Coach Weaver wouldn’t say who. Damn, Keller. That’s awesome.” He hesitated. “My son’s on the team—quarterback. Holds the record for completions in a single season. We’re hoping to get a scholarship to college.” Pride shone from his round face.
“Guess it runs in the family, huh? You had some good moves back in the day.” He grinned, and Bobby cackled. “I’m thinking you don’t play much anymore?”
“You got that right.” He rubbed his stomach. “Mary’s too good a cook, and I’m too tired after standing on my feet all day. But I’m a great armchair quarterback. And my boy—Shane—he’s good, Keller. Real good. I think he’s got what it takes, and I ain’t just saying that because he’s my kid. Fact is, the whole team is solid. You’ve got some damn good prospects to work with.”
“Is that what he wants? To go pro?” Keller could tell him it wasn’t all about the cheering and the bright lights or the money. All of it was great, but the blood, sweat, and absolute domination the sport exerted over your life wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
“He’s thinking about it.”
In his professional days, he’d worked with a lot of summer programs for kids and could always tell whether it was the parents’ dream or the child’s. He’d make sure it was Shane who wanted to be a professional football player and not Bobby reliving his failed dreams of stardom.
“Guess we’ll see when school starts. I figured I’d swing past and see how the place looks nowadays, get an idea what I’m working with before I meet with the kids.”
Bobby nodded, then checked his watch. “I’d better get going. Knowing Mary, she’ll send out a search party.” He bit his lip. “Would you like to come for dinner? She always makes plenty.”
Touched by the invitation, Keller still declined. “Appreciate it, but I think springing a guest on your wife would forever put me in the doghouse.” Seeing Bobby’s face fall, he rushed on. “But how about we meet up next week? Is The Flame still around? They always had the best steaks in town. I’d love to take you all out for dinner.”
“Yeah, it’s still there, but we don’t go. Kinda pricey.”
“So let’s do it. I’ll make a reservation.”
“Gee, Keller. You don’t gotta do that.”
“I know. Give me your number, and I’ll let you know when.”
Bobby nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell Mary. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” They shook hands. “Glad you’re home, Keller. It’ll be good having you back.”
He hoped so.
Bobby drove away, and Keller walked the field a bit before returning to his car. His shoulder and arm throbbed from carrying things from his mother’s house to Goodwill, and if he wanted to be able to turn the wheel, he needed to take something to ease the ache. Three years after the last surgery, the pain had lessened, but it would never completely vanish. He’d suffered a compound fracture of the humerus, torn muscles in his shoulder, and damage to ligaments and tendons, yet he was lucky. It had taken him sixteen months to recover from the various surgeries, but no amount of physical therapy would ever make him whole again. Now, at thirty-eight, he had to pivot and begin a new life.
He clutched the bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen and stared at it for a moment. Right after his surgeries, he’d taken the hard stuff, but when he’d begun to crave higher and higher doses, he cut himself off. Under no circumstances would he fall into that black pit. He’d seen it happen to way too many players. It was a promise he’d made to his mother when he’d been drafted: stay away from the drugs and the drinking; don’t become a statistic.
He popped the pills. Well, Mom, at least you never had to worry about me getting a girl pregnant. His marriage—and quickie divorce—was so long ago, he’d almost forgotten it had ever existed. He’d thought he could maintain the facade, but an inability to get it up for Tiffany on a regular basis had proved his undoing. He’d found her sleeping with other men, giving him the out he needed, and he’d been happy to let her go.
He drove through the streets, remembering the sights of his former hometown—the hidden areas by the tracks where he’d had his first kiss from a guy. The woods where he’d lost his virginity to a girl, pretending she was a man. He passed the waterfalls where the team had celebrated their state championship by getting drunk on smuggled beer. He grinned, recalling how he’d thought he was so cool, sneaking into his house at three in the morning, only to find his mother wide-awake and waiting for him with a list of chores that would keep him grounded for the rest of the school year.
God, he wished he could hear her voice again. That night she’d sat him down and explained how she wouldn’t let him run wild. How people told her he’d end up a no-goodnik because she was a single mother and didn’t have the time to watch over him properly. He hadn’t realized until then that his behavior had reflected on her as a person, and he’d vowed to never bring her shame.
I’m sorry, Mom. I’m going to make sure I do right by these kids, like you taught me.
He wiped the wetness from his face and continued to drive.
Before he realized it, he was twenty miles out of town and approaching the next one, and figured he could use a break and something to eat. He didn’t have much at the house and wasn’t in the mood to be home and alone.
Spying a main street, he drove past a shop selling homemade candy, a women’s boutique clothing store, and various storefronts. All closed, as it was late, but a bistro caught his eye. A sign pointed him to the parking lot around the corner, and he drove in, his tires crunching on the gravel, and found a spot not far from the dumpsters. Not valet parking on the Vegas Strip like he’d been used to while on the roster for the Vegas Players, but this was his life now, and he knew it could be worse.
When he walked inside, it was crowded enough that he didn’t think he’d find a seat at the bar, where he always liked to park himself, but luck was with him. A tall woman with long red hair and a full sleeve of tattoos was rising to her feet.
“Kept it warm for ya.” She slung her purse over her shoulder as luminous dark eyes slid a lazy path up Keller’s body. “Unless you’d rather I stay and see what else I can warm up.”
Amused but not interested, Keller gave her a half smile. “Not tonight. But thanks for the very generous offer.”
“Too bad.” She shrugged and walked away.
Keller waited to catch the bartender’s eye and ordered a bottle of Heineken, then faced the crowd. The music wasn’t obnoxiously loud, and there were many people at the tables on dates. To his surprise, he spotted a gay couple in the corner, and surreptitiously watched their interactions. For some reason, his eyes smarted and burned. Damn, he was getting sentimental in his old age. Did he want that? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he wanted the option to have someone in his life for more than a bump in the night.
Since his injury, he’d put his recovery first and had worked to get into shape again—or as close to where he could use his arm without pain. Sex had been the last thing on his mind. But now? So many years out of the spotlight, he had to wonder if it was finally his time. If he couldn’t be healthy in body, at least he could try for his soul and heart. Because hiding all these years had taken a mental toll, and he was damn tired.
Beer bottle to his lips, he scanned the crowd. A man sat in the corner, looking out of place. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and from the way he kept checking both his watch and phone, Keller assumed he’d been waiting for a while—for his date? Keller drank his beer and ordered a burger, and as he ate, he kept an eye on the man.
He was sexy as hell, with messy black hair falling over his brow and full lips he kept nibbling at. Long legs stretched out from beneath the table, and Keller focused on the man’s fingers playing along the stem of his wineglass, imagining them on his body.
Twenty minutes passed, and Keller finished his beer and food while the man grew more agitated. It was obvious the guy had been stood up. “Whoever let you down is a damn fool,” he muttered.
The man stood, leaving half his glass untouched, and huffed out a sigh. He didn’t leave, though, instead weaving his way through the crowd to the rear of the bar, where the restrooms were. Without thinking, Keller rose to his feet.
“Be right back.”
The bartender shrugged. “Sure.”
Inside the restroom, he found the man staring at the slightly askew mirror. His eyes widened when Keller stood next to him to wash his hands.
“Get stood up?”
The man wet his lips, and his brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
Close up, he was even more arresting than from Keller’s initial vantage point at the bar. Mistrustful, green-flecked blue eyes gazed at him. The harsh fluorescent light reflected off pale skin, as if he spent most of his time indoors, and prominent cheekbones stood out on his thin face, with the shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. Keller had never liked the jock type, preferring instead a long, lean body.
Rein it in. The dude is likely straight.
“I noticed you looking at your phone and your watch for a while. A sure sign that you’re waiting for a date who didn’t show.”
A flush stained his cheeks, but the man remained silent and splashed some water on his face, then turned to go.
“I’m sorry if I offended you.” Keller had no clue why it mattered, but he didn’t want this man to be upset with him. Probably a throwback to his playing days. His coaches had taught him to keep all the fans happy, even if they booed him on the field.
The man shrugged. “Not sure why a stranger is talking to me in the bathroom about my failed date, that’s all.”
“I’m Keller Williams. Now that you know my name, we’re not strangers,” he said, hoping no discussion would ensue about his past career and what he was doing now.
Instead, the man froze, his face paling even more. “Unreal,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
Those beautiful eyes dripped with scorn as the man pulled a paper towel from the holder and wiped his face. “I have to go.” And without another word, he walked out, leaving Keller slack-jawed and alone in the ugly little bathroom.
“Damn. What the hell did I say?”
He returned to the bar and his beer. The man, he saw, sat at his small table, texting.
“Want another one?” the bartender asked.
“No. Just the check.”
He handed over his credit card, and the bartender’s jaw dropped. “Shit. You’re Keller Williams?”
“Last time I checked, yeah.”
“Damn, can I get your autograph? I have your jersey. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”
More than happy to oblige, Keller was soon surrounded by a group of fans for whom he signed napkins, T-shirts, and anything else they thrust in his face. All the while, though, he kept an eye on the despondent man he’d spoken to in the bathroom, who was still sitting in the corner, his mouth drooping in a frown. Why he’d become so involved in a stranger’s date, Keller hadn’t a clue, but when the man rose to his feet and left the bistro, Keller did the same and tossed out a hundred to the bartender.
“Gotta go, folks. I’ll be back again. I’m living in Overlook now.”
Keller exited the restaurant, but there was no sign of the guy, so he headed to his car. The sultry air hit him like a wet slap, and mosquitos buzzed past his cheeks. Unseen crickets chirped incessantly from the thick hedges surrounding the parking lot. Not his glory days for sure, yet maybe there was the scent of possibility as well. He wondered what would’ve happened if he’d come to the bistro with a male date. Would there have been an outcry? People taking pictures on their phones to show everyone they’d seen Keller Williams with a man? Oh my God, did you know he’s gay?
The two men eating there on a date had seemed to be feeling safe enough. It was an experience he’d never been able to enjoy.
A lingering stare, a subtle brush-up in a club. A hookup between two men so desperate for human contact and to be themselves, they’d take that risk for a moment of pleasure. Keller had lived that clandestine life so he could keep an unforgiving career that in the end had betrayed him, forcing him to walk away.
As he approached his parking spot, he spied a man sitting in a car, windows open, head down on the steering wheel. Fearing something was wrong, Keller stopped several feet away, unsure if he was intruding or if the man was ill. Just in case it was the latter, he called out, “Everything okay? Do you need me to call someone?”
Blue-green eyes met his, and with a start, Keller recognized the man he’d spoken to in the bar.
“Are you sick? Do you need me to get you some help?”
The engine roared to life and the wheels spit up gravel as the car took off, leaving Keller standing like a fool, wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve such a reaction from a complete stranger.
Felice Stevens
Felice Stevens writes romance because what is better than people falling in love? Her favorite part of a romance novel is that first kiss…sigh. She loves creating stories of hopes and dreams and happily ever afters. Her stories are character-driven, rich with the sights, sounds and flavors of New York City and filled with men who are sometimes deeply flawed but always real.
Felice writes M/M romance because she believes that everyone deserves a happily ever after. Having traveled all over the world, she can safely say that the universal language that unites people is love. Felice has written in a variety of sub-genres, including contemporary, paranormal and has a mystery series as well.
Felice is a two-time Lambda Literary award nominee, and Lambda award winner for Best Gay Romance for her book, The Ghost and Charlie Muir.
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