I let out a breath, curling my arm around her shoulders and pulling her into my side. “There’s two minutes left. Even if we miss, we have time.”
She glared at me. “Two minutes isn’t enough when we don’t have the ball.”
“Our defense has been immaculate.” I adjusted the Cardinals cap on her head, the one signed by the head coach himself. “They’ll hold them.”
She couldn’t argue with that, and she looked back toward the field, still disgruntled.
I couldn’t hide my smile as I watched her. Quinn and I have had a long, difficult past few weeks.
Amos still hadn’t been apprehended. He’d been free for weeks and every day felt like a failure, like waking up on pins and needles, waiting for something else to happen.
Jackie Black, the senior officer, the woman who had so much trust and was about to retire in a few months, was found dead after the first week.
Part of me felt sorry for her. She had been a very lonely woman. It was discovered after his escape that Amos and Jackie had been in contact with each other, over numerous phone calls and messages. She thought he was in love with her, and Amos was charming enough to drag her along, to make her feel special. She thought she was breaking him out so they could run away together.
Instead, he killed her.
The blare of the band starting up the fight song brought my thoughts back to the present. To this moment, watching my favorite team playing a championship game with the woman I loved.
It was our first real outing since Amos’s escape. We’d decided we couldn’t put our lives on hold forever. We were still being safe and cautious, but I wanted to bring her somewhere fun after everything.
Quinn grabbed for my hand as the Cardinals’ special teams took the field. She squeezed hard as the kicking unit lined up.
The stadium fell into a tense, collective hush. The ball was snapped. The kick went up—
And missed. Wide left.
Quinn screamed in disbelief, and my jaw dropped open. That had been a chip shot. Practically automatic. How the hell did he miss?
She twisted to look at me, horror all over her face.
I tightened my arm around her shoulders. “It’s fine,” I said flatly. “There’s time.”
She gave me a doubtful look, stunned—like her voice had abandoned her.
I scanned the stadium. It was a neutral site, but easily sixty percent of the crowd were Cardinal fans, and they all looked absolutely dejected. It was eerily quiet as the opposing team took over on offense. Less than two minutes were left on the clock, and OCU had one timeout left.
If the defense could hold them, we might get the ball back.
First down was a quick handoff for one yard. I clapped, trying to not let the disappointment get to me.
Second down was another run to the outside, but the defense was ready. No gain.
The noise started to build again, tentative at first, then louder as hope crept back into the stands.
On third down, the quarterback dropped back—but the blitz came fast. He scrambled, panicking, and threw the ball out too quickly.
The roar was instant and overwhelming as a Cardinal defender snatched the ball from the air and took off toward the end zone.
Quinn and I yelled at the same time, grabbing blindly for each other as we watched him dodge a tackle, then another, blockers forming in front of him.
“Oh my God!” Quinn screamed.
The stadium exploded as he crossed the goal line.
I barely registered anything except her—her ecstatic laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling as she turned toward me. I didn’t think before I surged forward, grabbing her face in both my hands.
And as the chaos of victory crashed around us, I brought my lips to hers and kissed her breathless.
