I clap my hands once. “Alright, ladies. Are we ready to talk game plan? Because we’ve got a full stadium to win over”—I grab my tablet—“and several margaritas waiting for us tonight.”
The plan is in place, and everything should run smoothly.
Bri and April are stationed with the fans, ready to capture the chaos—the noise, the outfits, the handmade signs, all the heart of game day that lives beyond the pitch.
May’s assignment is a little different. She’ll be in the VIP box, which promises to be packed with celebrities tonight. Like June predicted, she didn’t exactly jump for joy when we told her where we needed her. She shrugged and muttered, “Okay” while the others stood there, jaws on the floor at the wordVIP.
Marianna is paired with me on the field, helping shoot video as I review everything that comes in. She’ll handle live angles while I edit and post clips from the cloud in real time. June will be on the opposite sideline, running stories and behind-the-scenes updates.
If all goes as well as Rogue’s welcome ceremony, our coverage will be nearly live—constant, fast, electric. Exactly how I like it.
After walking April and Bri to their posts by the main stadium entrance, I finally check my personal phone. My notifications are chaos, but one name freezes me in place.
Rogue.
A text from over an hour ago.
Rogue:
Could I see you before the game?
My heart jumps, and my fingers fly over the screen.
Me:
I’m so sorry, Rogue. I didn’t see your message until just now. Are you able to leave the locker room?
The typing bubbles appear instantly before his reply lands.
Rogue:
Coach Gaz won’t be pleased, but I can. Are you in your office?
I glance around, pulse quickening. The doors are about to open, and I shouldn’t evenconsiderthis, but the thought of him wanting to see me—and knowing he’s about to make some kind of announcement after the game—undoes every ounce of logic I have.
My fingers hover over the keyboard.
Me:
I’ll be there in a few minutes. Door’s open.
I hit send before I can second-guess it, then rush toward the nearest set of elevators. As I walk, I open a new text thread.
Me:
Rogue’s heading to the office. Can you take Anna with you and start the locker-room roundups?
June:
*side-eye*yes boss
By the time I reach the lower level, my pulse is a drumbeat in my ears. Why does he want to see me? Is this about the announcement? Is Emily right? Could he be leaving? Or does he just… want to see me?
I take a deep breath and push open my office door.
He’s already there.
All I see at first is his back—broad, solid, the bright sky-blue Strikers jersey hugging his shoulders. A bold23stretches across his spine. When he hears the door, he turns, and his expression shifts from stormy concentration to a smile that steals the air right out of the room.
