41. Chapter 41

T he last forty-eight hours have been the longest two days of my life. After Crew showed up at the court, and we played our dueling one-on-one game, I left with an emotional hangover. The numbness threatened to consume me, but I pushed with all my might to keep my head above water. Crew's confession played on a loop in my mind. The sincerity in his words and the vulnerability in his voice meant everything to me. Each time my fingers twitched to pick up the phone to call him, something held me back like an invisible wall made of everything I hadn't resolved yet.

Telling Crew I needed more time and couldn't go home with him nearly destroyed me. The look of mourning that crossed his beautiful features nearly had me crumbling to the ground at his feet and begging for forgiveness. I wanted to take back everything and pray for him to welcome me home, but I knew I had to end things with Chad. I had to fight for my freedom, and I hoped Crew would still be waiting for me when everything was finished.

I wanted desperately to tell him my plan, but fear kept the words inside in case anything went off script. I didn't want to get his hopes up only to have them crash down around him, especially with the team leaving for Vegas to play in their bowl game.

When the silence became deafening, I kept telling myself to keep pushing forward. Even though I was causing him pain, it was pain I hoped he would forgive me for later. When the dust settles, it will only be him and me—the two of us for the rest of time.

Glancing at my phone, I realize I've probably missed the entire first quarter of the bowl game. My flight from Arizona to Vegas was delayed. Not to mention, the airports were packed with people traveling for Christmas.

Who plans a bowl game two days before Christmas?

After quickly stopping at the hotel to drop off my luggage, I hopped in the waiting rideshare to Allegiant Stadium. The good thing about arriving late to the game is the line to get in is practically nonexistent—crowds of fans mill around outside, where tents and merchandise trailers are set up. Mascots and blow-up animals line the sidewalk as small bands entertain the crowd so that those in attendance can watch the game on the outside screens.

Scanning my mobile ticket, I pass through security, where my clear bag is checked, and I place my VIP badge around my neck. Climbing the stairs, I open the entry doors as I rush into the stadium. But as soon as I step inside the black interior, I'm taken aback. Jaw slackened, I take in the incredible entry. A gigantic chandelier hangs in the sky, its lights glimmering. The black and white, modern interior feels more like an art exhibit than any football stadium I have ever entered.

As eager as I am to get to my seat, I allow myself a few minutes to walk around the stadium and thoroughly soak in the magnitude of such a venue. Walking down one hallway, black wallpaper with metallic shapes and designs line the walls as it leads to an open space with windows overlooking the Vegas strip. Casinos and resorts shine, coming to life in the night light. Following a crowd of people, I stumble across a hallway, which is, in fact, an art gallery. Portraits hang from the walls, each giving an art deco vibe. Huffing a laugh, I can't believe I'm at a game in this stadium .

The announcer announces the end of the second quarter, and I take that as my cue to find my mom. Before the halftime rush escapes their seats, I hop into the first concession line I see. With a giant pretzel and a large Coke in hand, I push through the crowd until I find the section behind our bench near the fifty-yard line. She's sitting among the crowd near the center of the field. The perk of your dad being a coach is you are given great seats. Other wives and family members circle her, but there's an empty seat next to her reserved for yours truly.

Scooting my way down the row, I plop into the chair with an exasperated sigh, startling her. "Bret, sweetie, you made it."

"Barely," I grumble around the mouthful of pretzel I couldn't resist any longer. "Traffic was a bitch."

She side-eyes me but doesn't scold me for cussing. It looks like we are both letting things go today. "How did everything go in Arizona?"

"It went as planned. Hopefully, everything is taken care of."

"That's great, sweetie. Couldn't talk Olivia into coming?"

"Oh no, I think her days of football are over. Besides, she officially has a chair as a tattoo artist at the shop, and her waiting list is over a year long. I don't see her taking any extra time off any time soon."

"Well." Mom pauses as I chuckle at her expression. I can tell she's struggling with what to say next. "Good for her."

Nudging her shoulder, I laugh out loud. "C'mon, Mom, what do you say we fly to Arizona and get ourselves matching tattoos? Hell, I bet Liv knows someone in Vegas who can hook us up. A friend of a friend sort of thing."

Scoffing, she shakes her head, eyeing me as if I'm on drugs. "Over my dead body. Did all that altitude go straight to your head?"

Shrugging, I take another huge bite of the delicious pretzel and savor the salty dough. Glancing at the big screen, I finally take in the score, mentally scolding myself for not checking sooner. The Eagles are up seventeen to seven.

"You look good, Bret."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, leaning my head on her shoulder. "I feel good."

"Happy?"

A smirk tilts my lips. "Hopefully, by the end of the game."

"He's playing an excellent game. One of those touchdowns is his."

Sitting back up in my seat, I smile as I stare out at the field, willing the time to go faster. Not that he has any reason to, but a part of me hopes he'll look this way when he runs back onto the field. I want him to know I'm here. I'm here for him.

The halftime entertainment runs off the field. I didn't even pay attention. I was too busy with what was happening in my head and my conversation with Mom. The lights flash in theatrics as the announcer announces the CTU Eagles as they run out of the tunnel. Placing my drink in the cup holder attached to the back of the seat, I stand with the crowd, clapping and cheering.

Dad glances in our direction as he flashes Mom a wink. His attention slides in my direction, and a smile spreads across his face. He gives a subtle wave. Warmth spreads through me, and for the first time in nearly a month, I feel excited for the first time in a long time. As much as I've loved my time at CTU it was always shadowed with the fear of the unknown. Now that that fear has been resolved, a weight no longer blinds me. I feel free and allowed to dream for the future.

In thirty minutes, my future will feel the same way.

Hopefully.

"Block! Block! Block!" I scream on my feet as I watch Crew protect the passing game as my brother runs down the field, the football clutched between his arm and body. He makes it fifteen yards before he comes down on the twenty-yard line.

Time moves in slow motion as we work hard to hold our lead. The team is playing like a well-oiled machine, everyone is gelled and in sync. This is how they're supposed to play. It's so different from how they played in the conference championship game—well, the first and only part I watched.

Dad glances up briefly as he looks for Mom. It's as if she's the calm to his storm, his breath of fresh air in a time of chaos.

"Time needs to move faster," I grumble as I sit, placing my hands underneath my thighs to keep them from shaking with nerves.

"Relax, it'll all work out."

"How do you stay so calm?"

"At the end of the day, it will all work out." A warm smile spreads across her face as she looks at me. "If you're going to be with a man who loves football as much as your father and has the opportunity to play professionally, you need to learn to keep calm. When their world feels like it's on fire with pressure, you need to be the one they lean on. Be the calm to their storm, sweetie. Remind Crew that no matter what, you love him for him . Not him as a player or him as a coach or whatever he may be. Your love for him matters at the end of the day."

I hum. "I was just comparing you to Dad's calm to his storm in my head. And why did you throw Crew into the mix?"

She pats my leg. "Oh, sweetie, even someone who is blind could see how much you two love each other."

Cheering from the crowd has both of us turning our attention to the field. Standing in the end zone, Grant throws his arms in the air in the touchdown signal as Crew sprawls on the field, his toes still in bounds. Jumping to my feet, I scream as I watch the replay on screen. The guys celebrate with claps on the helmet and shoulder pads as they jog off the field, passing the special teams.

The extra-point kick is good as the Eagles take a thirty-one to seventeen lead with a minute remaining. In a matter of sixty seconds, the Eagles will be winning a bowl game.

"Go." Quirking my brows, I stare at my mom. "Go to the gate and show the security guard your badge. Be on the field with him. Tell him how you feel and celebrate this win with him, together ."

Blinking rapidly, I stare at the lights as I wish the tears away. Throwing my arms around her shoulders, I pull my mom in for a hug. "Thank you for everything, Mom."

"I'm always here for you, Bret. Always ."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She pulls away, a tear streaking her face. "Now go get your happily ever after."

Standing from my seat, I move through the fans as I fight the rush of people leaving. Excusing myself through the crowd, I finally find the gate for where I can get on the field as the final seconds tick off the clock. Red fireworks shoot out of the endzone before multicolored confetti shoots from cannons.

The guard finally lets me on the field, and once again, I find myself moving through chaos. Scanning the field, I keep bouncing my eyes back and forth for number eighty-eight.

Pushing through bodies, I feel him before I see him.

Glancing up, I find familiar mocha eyes staring back at me through the masses of football players and media members.

Nibbling on my lip, I fight to keep the grin from covering my face as I make the trek to him. His eyes never leave mine. It's not until I'm standing before him that I realize I have no idea what I will say to him. He stands there, sweat dripping down his handsome face as he holds his helmet in his hands.

"Hi." The words come out sheepishly, and I mentally palm my forehead. Seriously, after everything, I'm going to start with "hi."

Dropping his helmet to his feet, glove-covered hands cup my cheek as he pulls my face to his. Luscious lips find mine in a searing kiss, and I melt.

Crew Riggsby feels like home.