Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Without thinking, I tap my chest and point at the suites. The media is going to go crazy over that move, but fuck it. I couldn’t care less. I’m celebrating, and my—they’re here to see it. I’m on top of the world right now.
Throughout the rest of the game, I’m riding a high as my adrenaline courses through me. We don’t score again, but we maintain our twenty-one-point lead and take home the win. First home game of the season is officially in the books with a W next to it.
The locker room is alive as we all celebrate the win. Coach Warner gives us a well-done speech, and as soon as he’s done, I rush to the showers. I love my teammates, but it’s my home team I want to be celebrating with right now, and I know Sloane and Camden will be waiting for me, just like Bellamy and Coral will be waiting for Reid, and Rowan and Corie will be waiting for Knox and Landry.
After the fastest shower ever, I pull on sweats and a T-shirt, both clinging to my skin that’s still damp from my shower. Quickly, I shove my things into my bag and toss the strap over my shoulder. I look up to see Reid doing the same, and he grins. “It’s cool to know our kids are out there, huh?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Wait!” Landry calls out, and we stop to look at him. “What are we doing after this?”
I want to tell him nothing, but it’s a Sunday early game, a home game, and we always get together after. It’s our thing. “My place is fine,” I tell them. “I’ll order pizza or something.” I shrug.
“You sure?” he asks.
I don’t offer my place often because I like to keep things calm for Camden, but I now know that was an excuse I told myself. It never really felt like home, not really. All it took was one teacher with dirty-blonde hair, big brown eyes, and a heart the size of the state of Tennessee to help me see I was wrong.
It’s my home. Our home is where I want our friends and family to be. Lines are blurring, and that’s not usually something I’m on board with, but in this case, I want them blurred. Hell, I want them crisscrossed and tethered.
I also want her.
I want Sloane. It’s been weeks of heated glances and me finding little ways to touch her. I can still remember what it was like to wake up with her in my arms. I thought maybe it was the moment she helped me through a hard time, but it’s been weeks, and the yearning I have for her is still there.
Now, I need to pull up my big boy pants and do something about it. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines. I know the play. Sure, I’m rusty, but I know it. All I have to do is see it through. Follow the play, and get the girl.
I’ve got this.
Starting today.
“I’m sure. I’ll see you there. Make sure you tell Beckett and Vaughn.” I don’t want Knox and Foster to be excluded.
“On it,” Landry says, as Reid and I turn and make our way out of the locker room.
As soon as we step into the family waiting area, I see them. Camden has his head on Sloane’s shoulder. I watch as she kisses his forehead and rubs his back. Sloane texted me, telling me that he didn’t get a nap before the game, and I’m sure he’s ready to crash.
In a few long strides, I’m standing before them. Dropping my bag to the floor, I place one hand on Camden’s back while the other snakes around her waist. I kiss my son on top of his head before leaning toward Sloane. I kiss her, too, just a peck to the corner of her mouth, before pulling them both into my chest and holding them.
“Daddy, ball,” Camden says sleepily. He holds his arms out for me, which means I have to let go of Sloane to take him into my arms. He wraps his little arms around my neck, and he might as well be squeezing my damn heart.
“That’s right. You watched Daddy play ball today. We won,” I tell him.
“Congrats on the win. Three touchdowns, impressive,” Sloane says, smiling up at me.
I take a minute to check her out, not giving a single fuck if anyone notices. That’s when I realize she’s wearing Knox’s jersey. “What’s this?” I ask, reaching out to tug at the hem of her jersey.
“Supporting the team.” She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal that she’s wearing one of my best friends’ numbers instead of mine.
“I love that, I do, but you’re wearing the wrong number.”
She looks down at her jersey, then back up to me. “Knox didn’t change his number.”