Like I had someone on my team who wasn’t just here for the jersey, or the paycheck, or the fame.
She didn’t need me to be a hero.
She just needed me to be honest.
And that? That I could do.
Even if it killed me.
Practice wrapped with a brutal round of suicides—Coach’s way of punishing us even more. My shirt clung to me like a second skin, drenched and reeking of turf and sweat. I peeled it off on the walk back to the locker room, my lungs still burning and thighs screaming.
The moment I stepped inside, I knew I was in for it.
Adam was grinning like he’d been waiting all practice for this. Derek leaned against his locker with a towel around his neck, and Caleb was already halfway through a protein shake he definitely didn’t earn today.
"I mean, she's fucking hot," he admitted. "And smarter than you… which isn't saying much."
Derek chimed in, voice teasing, “Ten years younger and still runs rings around you, huh?”
Caleb chuckled. “Careful, Walker—next time it’s gonna be a PTA mom. Go full daddy era.”
I didn’t even blink.
“Jealousy’s not a good look on you, Adam,” I said, shoving my boots into the corner and grabbing a towel off the bench. “I can give you some pointers if you want, though. Might help you finally get a second date.”
The locker room roared.
Even Adam laughed, flipping me off before tossing his sweaty shirt at my head. I batted it away and sat down, letting the teasing roll over me like it didn’t matter.
Because it didn’t.
They could make jokes all they wanted. Daphne wasn’t some passing fling or a distraction. She was smart, sharp, stubborn as hell—and the first person in a long time who saw me, not just the headlines.
The room buzzed with after-practice chatter, guys yelling about dinner plans, laundry, tomorrow’s drills. But every now and then, I caught them glancing at me—not just with amusement.
With respect.
It wasn’t loud, and it sure as hell wasn’t unanimous. But it was there.
Even after the arrest. Even after Ryder.
I was still Kieren Walker.
And they hadn’t forgotten.
I spotted her the second I jogged out of the locker room, still dripping with sweat and buzzing from the drills. Daphne was standing just off the sideline, her reporter badge clipped to her belt and her stupidly cute notebook in her hands—same one she always scribbled in, half notes, half snark.
She didn’t see me at first, too busy pretending she wasn’t watching me the entire damn time.
I made a beeline for her.
“Missed me?” I asked, wiping my forehead with the bottom of my shirt—mostly for effect.
Daphne didn’t even blink. “You missed that pass by at least a foot.”
I grinned. “That was a setup for Caleb. You just weren’t paying attention, Goldfish.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the way her lips twitched before the smile broke through. Soft. Fond. Like she was trying not to let it show how much she liked me and failing miserably.
