“How do you feel about her coming?”
“I want her there. I’ve missed her. Yeah, it might be weird to see her after a year of not talking, but she’s family. I love her.”
He leaned down and kissed me, soft and slow. “And I really want her to meet you.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m serious, honey.” He grinned, poking me in the side. “Do you need me to help you relax before we go? Why are you so quiet?”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head and plastering on my fake smile. He didn’t push, but I could tell he saw through it. “I’m still waking up.”
We got dressed slowly. He packed his bag. I double-checked my credentials. Everything felt mechanical. The rhythm we’d found over the last two weeks—texts, glances, quiet plans—it felt fragile today.
We took separate cars to the stadium. We parked in the same lot, but we didn’t speak much. I reviewed data on my phone. His pulse was normal. Resting HR consistent. Recovery time still in the green.
But I couldn’t shake the weird feeling.
Not through breakfast. Not through the drive. Not even when we walked into the building and the world welcomed him back like he’d never left.
Oliver had to be okay. He had the best care, and we were all there for him. But my stupid heart wouldn’t settle.
34
OLIVER
Ichecked in at 8:07 a.m. after saying goodbye to Sloane. She put on her brave face for me, but I knew her too well. She was nervous for me. I felt good, great, even, and I hoped my insistence that I was fine worked. I didn’t want her worrying about me—she had a job on the team, and the guys needed her.
Despite kissing her an hour ago, I quickly sent her a text.Can’t wait to see you tonight.
She sent back a heart emoji immediately. Content, I pocketed my phone and waved at the security guard near the tunnel.
The facility was already buzzing. Staff checking lists. Equipment managers triple-counting pads and gloves. Coaches talking in hushed tones behind clipboards.
I walked straight into the locker room. The air was thick with menthol, disinfectant, and sweat. The usual. It felt like coming home after a long vacation. If anything, the break made me realize I loved football. I loved it for me and not for all the outside pressures. Made me want to be healthier so I could play as long as I wanted. My cleats were under my stool. Fresh laces. Socks rolled tight in a bin to the left. Everything was where it should be. Except me.
My heart was too loud. Not racing. Not high enough to call it a spike. But elevated. Buzzing under the surface like my body was bracing. It missed the action. Hell, I missed the action. I dressed, ready to fucking play.
“Look who’s back,” Jordan said as he walked by. He slapped the back of my shoulder pads. “You better be ready, man. We need you out there.”
“Always,” I said, though it didn’t sound like me. My voice felt off.
“Good. Because Ty’s already threatening to steal your nickname.”
I gave him a weak smile. All the confidence from before slipped, and my stomach gave way to nerves. This was fucking stupid. I felt great, meds were doing their job, and this was pre-game jitters. I took a calming breath as Ivy walked in with a smile.
“Let’s get you wrapped, Oli. Just like old times.”
“Old? Jesus. College was five years ago,” I replied, laughing as she taped my ankles to be safe. I propped my foot on the stool and let her work. Same tightness. Same pressure points. Ankle first, then calf support. My left knee wasn’t flagged, but I asked for a compression wrap anyway.
“How ya feeling?” she asked, a little quieter.
“You know I passed clearance, Ivy,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.
“That’s not what I was asking and you damn well know it.” She pulled the tape harder, making me look at her. She glared at me, worry on her face. “You know your limits. You always have. Don’t be a hero today. If you feel off, you come off the field. Please, Oli.”
“I will, Ivy. I promise.” I smiled and held out my fist. She hit the side of it three times, like we did back at Central State. “Thank you.”
She patted my knee and moved onto another player, letting me finish suiting up. Music blared from one of the guys, a techno version of a rap song that had my adrenaline going. This was the shit I lived for. To run out on the field with these guys again.
