Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I reach into my pocket, take out the charm necklace, and press it into her hand. “I love you. I want you to leave this at my place any time, and I’ll keep finding it and bringing it to you.”
Instantly, her bluff vanishes. She smiles like a Jumbotron caught us kissing.
Which sounds like a damn good idea but I’m not done. “I want football and romance. I was a fool to think we couldn’t make both work. I don’t want any space from you. I want to see you every night, and every morning.”
But before she can speak, I realize my faux pas. “Oh, shit,” I whisper. “You probably didn’t want me to say all that in public.”
With her free hand, she grabs the collar of my shirt. “I do. I did. All I want is you.”
I loop my arms around her neck. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “But thank you for giving me another chance.”
“Drew,” she says, her voice soft and feathery and just for me. “You’ll have bad days at work, and so will I. But we’ll have good days too. We just can’t let the bad days dictate how we feel about each other.”
I nod, still a little guilty, but that’s okay. I should feel guilty. I fucked up when I freaked out. But I can learn from it. “I know. I believe that. I didn’t think there was room for love and football, but I was wrong.”
“I want love and football too,” she says.
“Oh my God, just fucking kiss her,” Clements breaks in with an aggrieved groan.
The guy with glasses chimes, “Yes, yes, yes!”
The woman cheers me on too. “Right now.”
I look at Brooke, asking permission. “Are you sure?”
She laughs. “Trust me, it’s no hardship to kiss you in public or private. But first, maybe put this on me?”
She hands me the charm necklace, and I loop it around her neck, clasping it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the phone cameras go wild. Pretty sure they’ve been going wild this whole time.
Works for me.
This moment is as real as all the other ones—the Whac-A-Mole game, the walk after the charity event, the kiss on the beach.
But this one is the start of the real us.
My heart beats faster as I move in closer. Then my lips are on hers, and I kiss the woman I love.
But not for long. We have a tour to do.
When I break the kiss, she’s smiling like she has a secret.
“What’s that for?” I ask.
“Oh, I just love you too,” she says. Then she clears her throat, and meets the eyes of the press, who’ve caught all this on camera. “Let me show you the locker room first.”
Just like that, we give a tour of the stadium together.
When it’s over, she grabs my hand, pulls me into a stairwell, and kisses me hard. “I can’t believe you showed up here like that.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t show up three days ago. I’m so sorry,” I say, wishing I could have gotten my act together. “And I’ll keep saying that. You deserve to hear it. You deserve everything good in the world, Brooke.”
Shaking her head, she presses her finger to my lips. “We’re good. No groveling is necessary. I get it.”
My heart thumps harder. She’s too good to me. “You really do?”
“Drew, you had a great start to the season. You had all sorts of luck, but it came from talent and hard work. Then you had one rough game. But you blamed yourself when the reality is…it’s just football.”
That’s what I started realizing the other day in the locker room with my guys. But hearing her say that means a lot to me too. That’s another form of luck—when the person you love completely understands you.
“Took me a while to figure that out,” I say.
“You were doing a lot. You’ve taken on a ton of extra responsibilities. It can be overwhelming. Just know I’m here for you. And I know you’ll do great this weekend,” she says, then studies my face. Her eyes are full of question marks. “Didn’t you get my message?”
She sent me one? Of course she fucking did because she’s awesome. “I didn’t look at my phone. I was in such a rush to get here and see you.” I grab it from my pocket and click on it, reading words she sent a little while ago.
Streaks never last. It’s the very nature of streaks to end. But I believe in you as an athlete and as a man. You’ve handled this season so far with grace and confidence, and I know you’ll keep doing it.
My heart thunders. “I don’t deserve you. But I want to deserve you.” Then I kiss her again, reveling in the sweet taste of her lips, the scent of her hair, the feel of her in my arms once more.