I jog over, scribbling my name on a cap, then a football, then the back of a kid’s jersey.
“You throw like me out there, champ, and we’ll have you signed by next season,” I tease, grinning wide enough for the cameras. The kids laugh, and phones keep snapping.
Somewhere in the back, some idiot yells.
“HEY HAYES, WHAT’S IT LIKE MARRYING THE TATTOOED FREAK SHOW? YOU GONNA COVER HER UP SO SHE LOOKS LIKE A REAL WIFE?”
Laughter ripples, a few whistles follow, but I don’t let it touch me. My smile doesn’t slip, not even for a second. I crouch next to two little girls wearing oversized Mustangs hats, scribble quick autographs, and lean into a photo as if nothing in the world could shake me.
“Appreciate you all coming out,” I say, loud enough to carry. “Means the world to us.”
Beneath the mask, I’m boiling inside. I can handle every insult thrown at me, but dragging her into it? Dragging Amelia into it? That’s where I draw the line.
The longer I stand here pretending it didn’t tear me apart, the more the fire in my chest tightens, waiting for the moment I can finally release it.
But they’ll never see that, not from me, not yet anyway.
“Hey, Hayes,” Pierce calls, towel slung around his neck. “You bringing your wife to the first game?”
“She gonna sit in the front and watch your dumbass fumble?” JP adds.
Walking away from the crowd, I glare at them both. “She’ll be there. And fuck you, JP, I’m a goddamn legend.”
They laugh, and I shake my head, peeling off my gear as I walk back to the locker room.
My phone buzzes again.
Amelia
I have no idea what you’re talking about, quarterback.
I smile to myself, little devil. She’s either playing stupid, or she knows.
Whatever.
Needing to get my mind off her, I text my brothers to see if they want to have a guys’ night.
Stepping into the locker room that smells like unwashed jock straps, I sit down on the wooden bleacher, typing out to the group chat.
Maverick
Yo, boys’ night?
pls tell me someone else is dying inside, too
Carter
My place. I’ll grill. Bring beer and your dumbass.
Reed
Only if you don’t show up wearing that damn crop top again.
Maverick
First of all, I looked hot. Second, ur jealous. Third, I’m bringing tequila.
Carter
