CONTENTS

  Also By E. M. Moore

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Facebook Group & Newsletter

  Spring Hill Blues

  About the Author

  CATCHING HIS OBSESSION

  GRIDIRON GODS

  BOOK 2

  E. M. MOORE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2026 by E. M. Moore. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact E. M. Moore at emmoorewrites@hotmail.com.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2026

  Cover by 2nd Life Designs

  Edited by Chinah Mercer of The Editor & the Quill, LLC

  Also By E. M. Moore

  Gridiron Gods

  Scoring His Obsession

  Catching His Obsession

  Warner University Bulldogs

  The Comeback Pact

  The Midseason Fakeout

  The Puckable Playbook

  The Heartbreak Blitz

  Pretty Little Dead Girl

  Hush, Hush (Prequel)

  Pretty Secrets

  Lovely Deceit

  Broken Truths

  Rejected Mate Academy

  Untamed

  Forsaken

  Saint Clary’s University

  Those Heartless Boys

  This Fearless Girl

  These Reckless Hearts

  The Heights Crew Series

  Uppercut Princess

  Arm Candy Warrior

  Beautiful Soldier

  Knockout Queen

  Crowned Crew (Heights POVs & Stories)

  Finn

  Jax

  The Ballers of Rockport High Series

  Game On

  Foul Line

  At the Buzzer

  Rockstars of Hollywood Hill

  Rock On

  Spring Hill Blue Series

  Free Fall

  Catch Me

  Safe Haven Academy Series

  A Sky So Dark

  A Dawn So Quiet

  1

  Tab

  The heat, like burning alive, it’s back…

  Can’t breathe.

  My chest desperately rises to inhale clean, fresh air, but it’s fruitless. I dissolve into coughs, the kind that are bone-deep, like my soul is leaving my body. Tears stream down my cheeks, escaping the sting in my eyes due to the smoke.

  Our apartment is hell. Flames leaping up the walls, taking the roof hostage in beautiful oranges and yellows. I never understood when people said fires dance, but they do. Like each flame is having a party, destroying everything I hold dear. Delighting in my demise. And all the while, it’s gorgeous—if not fascinating—the way it consumes.

  It’s the smoke, though, that is ugly. It fills every available crevice, even my desolate lungs. This is what it feels like to drown. To be so desperate for air, but it’s elusive. Or just plain nonexistent. Like the natural element has been ripped from my very being.

  I choke and sputter. Overbearing terror creeps into my cells. It fills my entire body like a disease, clawing a tunnel into my veins and circulating through my blood until it is the only thing I can think about. Every weak beat of my heart, every unfulfilled breath.

  Fear.

  Fear.

  Fear.

  This is it.

  “Hey.” A gentle hand rubs my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. No one deserves to be in this inferno with me.

  My voice cracks. “No.” The tears come harder now, rivulets of salty liquid tracing down my cheeks and onto my lips like rushing falls.

  Anyone but her. Or Athena. They’ve been through so much, already. I reach for the touch against my shoulder.

  “Tab.” The voice comes again. Soft. Southern. Nearly angelic.

  All it does is break me.

  “Tab, wake up for me.”

  The hand on my shoulder squeezes, and I have a blip of a thought before a massive cough steals my breath again. I sit up, the pressure in my lungs expelling in coarse, gruff exhalations.

  My face is wet. So are my sheets and the flame pajamas with the word Hot! splattered over and over that I asked Raeann to make for me with the new sewing machine Micah bought her.

  That’s right. My fists grip my new sheets. Smooth, silky. Clean. I drag in a clear, oxygen-filled breath, a delight I plan on never taking for granted again.

  “You had another nightmare.” This from Raeann. Beautiful Raeann. She’s fine. Athena’s fine, too, if not overworked since she has started helping me as well as Raeann.

  “It’s because you called her from my room last night,” I choke out, my throat raw, like shards of glass have roughed up nearly everything.

  “Well, you keep stealing my dog.” Raeann smiles, but I can tell it’s wrought with worry, her tone belying she doesn’t really agree with what she’s saying. She’s trying for me, though.

  Almost since waking up in the hospital, I told her I never wanted to be considered a charity case. What I desperately need is to go back to normal. A new normal, sure, but as close as we can get to before.

  I may have been a victim, but I’m also a survivor.

  Raeann hands a tissue to me without another word. I take it, wiping the tears from my cheeks, discarding the evidence that no matter how much game I talk, my subconscious is always thinking about the fire. Reliving it. I’m in Dante’s rings of hell, and I can’t escape. “What time is it?”

  “I was just leaving for the store.”

  My shoulders fall a little. I should be up and heading to Pet Threads. They’ve only let me walk through the new location once, and it was before they even had any of the product there. Though with the pictures I’ve seen, Raeann and the gang have it under complete control.

  Which I should be celebrating. Instead, I’m just annoyed.

  Raeann puts an exclamation point on my thoughts when she hands me a glass of water and a few pills. One for pain and a few to open up my airways again, hopefully ridding them of the garbage I inhaled.

  I swallow them like the good little patient I am and smile as Raeann takes the glass again. She stands, and Athena moves into her spot, nudging my good arm while I lie back down. My gaze tracks Raeann, highlighted by ornate tray ceilings, making her appear short with how tall they are. Even the walls have decoration. Not paintings or pictures, but built-in adornments. It’s the fanciest room I’ve ever been in, and it’s now my new bedroom.

  I’ll say one thing for Micah Freeman, he sure can pick out an apartment. The penthouse to be exact, which I have suspicions was not actually vacant when he decided to move us in here. But Micah can move mountains if he wants. He’s just that guy.

  We’re closer to the stadium and all the team facilities. A much nicer part of Nashville, if I’m being honest. Pet Threads isn’t directly downstairs like it was before, but it’s only a block away, another real estate move that I’m not sure was actually available when Micah decided to own it. He probably took Raeann on a drive and told her to point.

  Knowing Raeann, she would have refused, but he made sure she got the best anyway.

  I guess I should be glad I’m riding my best friend’s coattails.

  Athena whines a little, and I pretend not to notice Raeann peer back at me from the door to my room as she carries away the pills and water. Instead, I focus on the doe eyes of this extraordinary dog, even though what I’m about to say is for both of them. “Don’t worry about me, girl. I’ll be alright.”

  Athena licks my fingers, gaze focused on me. It’s fitting that she was saved first. She is an angel, and no one could convince me otherwise. It makes sense that I was saved last.

  In fact, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

  “Are you coming back in?” I call out, my voice gravelly.

  “Try to stop me!” Raeann singsongs back. I strain for confirmation when that might be, but this apartment is so big. Before, I could hear everything from my bedroom. Kitchen noise, the toilet flushing, hell, I could hear the murmur of the TV in Raeann’s room and the soft click-click-click of Athena’s paws across the wood floors.

  But now when I picture our old place, I see a carcass. Everything ash and burned, crumbling under the siege of heat. Everything we built, gone.

  Athena nudges my hand again, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t have a straight line of communication to my brain. “I’m fine,” I tell her, my smile a little watery. “I promise.”

  It doesn’t feel great to lie to an angel dog. Her eyes aren’t even accusing.
They’re just two big spheres of love. Goddammit.

  I put my face in her hair, my eyes closing. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, trailing my fingers absently through her golden-red fur. “Don’t hold it against me.”

  Athena shifts, and I move away to allow her space to jump on the bed and cuddle with me. When Raeann comes back in the room, that’s where we are, lying on the massive ornate bed that looks like something out of the royal palace in England. “You two,” she says, pulling out her phone to snap a picture. I grin like old times, but by the time the camera shutters, my face falls. I don’t look anything like I did before. My hair was singed. My right arm is a mess I don’t even want to think about. But there’s something deeper too. Something that can’t be seen on the surface.

  Raeann frowns at the picture, but she slips the phone back in her jeans pocket. “You know…that beginner’s sewing book is in the spare room with the sewing machine if you want to take a crack at it. It’ll keep you busy.”

  I make a face, but then school my features again. Raeann’s really trying. She thinks because sewing helped pull her out of dark times that it will do the same for me, but I’ve never been the crafty type. Or creative. “Maybe I could just come back to the store.”

  “Babe…” She sighs. “You know the doctors haven’t cleared you yet. “You’ve only been out of the hospital for a couple of weeks.”

  “It’s been a month.”

  “Are you sure?” She smiles a little, letting me know she’s teasing. “You’re just such a workaholic, Tab. I really want you to take the time you need. The store is good. We’re good. There’s no need to jump in before you’re ready.”

  The way her stare lingers, it’s like she can see right through me. Her and Athena. It reaches that place inside that wonders who I am now. Maybe I’m not a store owner. Or even worse, what it will feel like to try to be my old self because she and I are not the same.

  What happens when I pick my old life back up and it fits differently? Because trust me, it will. I’m forever changed. Damaged. My life ended when that spark decided to catch. Then the walls decided to be consumed. Then that fire decided to destroy.

  I shake my head like I can try to erase the memories.

  “Hey, it was only an observation,” Raeann says as she sits on the edge of the bed. “Plus, it’s a good idea to disassociate from the world a bit while you recov⁠—”

  I clear my throat.

  “While you glisten like a unicorn, majestic and beautiful.”

  I can’t help but laugh, but it turns into another cough. While I’m tasting what the inside of my lungs must look like, I remember the conversation I had with Raeann when I told her I didn’t want to be a victim. Honestly, I was scared of what it might do to me. Ever since, I refuse to let her say the words recuperating or recovering, like this is something I had to get over. So she keeps coming up with ridiculous things that I’m doing instead. The first time I was Cleopatra testing the comfort of elaborate pillows—which is actually sort of fitting for this place.

  “So, update on Levi,” Raeann says once I catch my breath again, hiding the now blackened tissue.

  I perk up at that. If there’s anything that can help me out of my own head, it’s an update on what that man is doing with his life. He’s gorgeous, to say the absolute least, but he sure treats his life like it’s a sideshow. “Do tell.”

  “He’s down to two girls left.”

  “Who are they?” I exclaim.

  Raeann shakes her head, and I almost come out of my skin. The last thing I expected was Levi Soucy to be a contestant on a dating show, but when I think about it, it’s the perfect turn in the road of his life. I wouldn’t even call it a ninety-degree turn or a switch back, just a gentle curve in the path he had already made for himself. “He’s sworn to secrecy.”

  “But it’s Micah.”

  “Micah says he’s being so tight-lipped about it. He had to sign a bunch of different contracts, and of course, he didn’t want to do it after what happened with McNally since he has his hands so deep in this thing.”

  “Does that jackass know everybody?”

  “Apparently.” A grin takes over Raeann’s face, and she scoots closer. “But Micah did get one thing out of Levi. You know how The Bachelor gives out roses to the women he wants to keep on the show? Levi gave out necklaces with his number on them.”

  I roll my eyes so far in the back of my head I’m worried they’ll dislodge.

  “Which Micah says is a no-no because it’s actually a big thing to put your number on a girl. Levi caught so much flak for that in the locker room.”

  “These guys are like cavemen. Wear my number. Suck my dick. Vie for my attention.” I make grunting noises, and Athena peers up at me, cocking her head. I give her a quick pat. “Except for Micah, of course.”

  “They are very territorial,” Raeann muses, but instead of being disgusted, a small smile spreads her lips, but then lets it drop. “Micah thinks the dating show is basically Levi’s whole life but condensed into a shorter time period. Sewing his wild oats with all the girls, promising them everything, then picking up and running off with a different one.”

  “I bet he looks good doing it, though.”

  Raeann chuckles. “You and your infatuation.”

  I wouldn’t call it that. Anymore.

  After being rescued, it was Levi’s face I first saw, fractured through my tears. It was those piercing eyes I remember most. Gray with hints of blue. Stormy. He grabbed my hand and told me Raeann and Athena were safe. Then they put me on oxygen to help me breathe and whisked me away.

  Away.

  Away…

  Raeann grabs my hand just like Levi did. “You’re going to find someone so much better.”

  2

  Levi

  The slow, low hum of a violin is a lullaby to my nervous system, which is already on the fritz since the season is now in full swing. The blonde in front of me talks easily, sipping her wine and reaching over to place her hand on mine. Her touch featherlight.

  Around us, other couples are dressed to the nines, reminding me that I’m also wearing the dreaded cousin of a penguin suit. I pull my hand out from under her grip and tug at the knot of my tie. It feels like a noose, slowly tightening. This restaurant is my tomb, and the melody is the sedation that’s going to put me to sleep before I die.

  Not to be dramatic or anything.

  This is my show, they should’ve let me choose the dates. There’s no way I would take a girl to a fancy restaurant on date three or four—or whatever this is. I’d take her to an escape room and then walk around downtown, ending the night with an ice cream or something not quite so stifling as having so many layers around my neck I feel like I’m choking.

  I take a sip of my water—this place didn’t even have beer on the drink menu—and try to pay attention to the words coming out of Kris’s mouth. A necklace with the number nineteen glints at the hollow of her throat. When the show suggested giving out my number on necklaces as a way of choosing the girls to move forward to the next round, I thought it was a great idea. Really true to football players in general who can’t wait to get their numbers on their girl.

  As soon as I started giving them out, though, that thought changed. The gesture was insincere. I didn’t even pick the necklaces out. Boxes with the Wildcats logo were shoved into my hands after I had the first dates with all of them, and I was instructed to hand them out.

  This girl is wearing my number and I can’t muster up an ounce of attention to digest what she’s saying.

  I close my eyes briefly, brain wandering. The scene unfolds like normal. It started with the orange glow of the sky as I neared their apartment. Then pushing past emergency personnel and spotting the angry flames leaping from second floor windows and eating their way up the side of the building. Quickly, my memory narrows on Tab and the thoughts that had taken over. Will she be found? Where is she? What if something awful happened to her?

  Minute after agonizing minute passed until two firefighters carried a body through the doorway. That’s all it took. I’ve barely been able to think about much else since, especially not a fake as shit dating show.

  My leg jumps up and down as I try talking myself out of sending the text I’ve been dying to. I want out of this. For good.

  Somewhere in the corner of the room, a camera is probably picking up on how disinterested I am. When this series airs, people’s opinions of me will be flying everywhere. They always do, but it’s usually from sportscasters and fans. This is a whole different ball game.