My fingers curl against his chest as my nails lightly graze him. “Besides my girls? No one.” I whisper.
His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching as he exhales through his nose. “Then I’ll stay,” he says, certain. “Even when it’s ugly. Especially then.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I settle closer to him, hiding the way my chest tightens. “Careful, quarterback. That serious side of yours is gonna confuse people into thinking you’re not a pain in the ass.”
His lips twitch into a grin, pressing against my hairline. “I’ll take my chances.”
I roll my eyes and smirk into his chest, but my hand remains on his heartbeat, steady and firm.
Maverick Hayes, I’m falling for you.
maverick/amelia
. . .
maverick
I’m up before the sun, and the house is still quiet enough that the air feels heavy with it. The clock on the nightstand blinks five-twelve in faint red numbers. I glance over at Amelia, sprawled across my side of the bed, her hair spilling over the pillow, lips parted in soft, even breaths.
I grab a sticky note from the dresser, tearing a sheet out. My handwriting’s messy as hell, but I scrawl anyway.
Thank you for being there for me. It means a lot, more than you realize.
I prop the note against the bathroom mirror, where I know she’ll see it.
My reflection stares back at me in the corner of my eye, and I stop.
Dark circles drag my face down, the bruised shadows under my eyes almost matching the stubble dusting my jaw. I lean closer, palms braced on the counter.
I’ve never had a problem with my head, at least not one I couldn’t brush off, but lately, it’s been creeping in. Like, no matter how many games I win or how hard I work, I’m slipping.
I breathe through my nose, shake it off, strip down, and step into the hot shower. The steam clings to my skin, loosening muscles that feel permanently wound tight. By the time I towel off, I’ve sealed the cracks, at least for now.
Heading back into the bedroom, I lean down and press my lips to the curve of Amelia’s bare shoulder. She stirs, but doesn’t wake. “See you later, dollface,” I whisper against her skin before pulling on my jacket and heading out.
The drive to the stadium is beneath a dull gray sky, with only the hum of the Broncos’ engine breaking the silence. As I arrive and pull into the parking lot, I see Maggie standing near the entrance with a clipboard in her hand.
Fuck me, I mumble under my breath as I make my way to the stadium’s glass doors.
“I need a word,” Maggie snaps.
I drag a hand down my face, jaw tightening. “What now?”
“Your sponsors haven’t pulled out,” she says sharply, holding her clipboard close to her chest.
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Fantastic. Because clearly that’s what really keeps me awake at night, whether some energy drink company still wants my face on their billboard.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t get smart with me, Hayes. Those deals are the only reason the team hasn’t?—”
I cut her off. “The only reason? You think I’m still here because of a fucking contract logo? I’m here because I win games. Period. And if that’s not enough for them, then maybe I should’ve retired two seasons ago.”
She blinks, caught off guard, but quickly recovers, lips tightening. “You’re reckless. That temper of yours is going to cost you everything if you don’t start?—”
“Cost me what?” I snap, stepping closer, my voice dropping. “The fans who don’t give a shit about me past Sunday? The reporters waiting for me to slip so they can eat me alive? Or the sponsors who only ever cared about the smile, never the man behind it?”
Maggie’s mouth opens, but I don’t give her the chance.
I shake my head, already done. “Save the lecture. I’ve got nothing left to give them but football. If that’s not good enough, tell them to find another pretty face.”
