I don’t care that I’ll be feeling that hit for the next week because Sutton’s smile is wide and bright and being the one to put that smile on her face makes every ounce of pain worth it.
She’s my why.
She’s always been the reason.
Even when I didn’t know it.
Even when I didn’t want to admit it.
Even when I didn’t understand it myself.
Now?
Yeah.
Now I do.
Everything I will ever do from here on out will be for her.
Because she’s my girl.
She’s my everything.
24
SUTTON
Ihate this.
I hate all of this.
The noise. The chaos. The way everyone is still celebrating like nothing just happened. Like I didn’t just watch Shepherd Haynes get absolutely leveled on the field a few plays ago.
My fingers tighten around the plastic cup in my hand until it crinkles, ice shifting loudly inside.
“At least he got up,” someone says behind me. God, I want to turn around and scream in their faces that doesn’t mean he’s fine! It doesn’t mean ANYTHING!
But I don’t.
Instead, I bite my tongue while replaying the whole thing in my head over and over again. The snap, the throw, the hit he didn’t see coming.
Fuck.
I felt it the moment it happened like it was happening to me. My stomach twists as I shift my feet. I just want to make sure he’s okay.
Ineedto makesure he’s okay.
“You know, you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep replaying it like that.”
I glance over at Killian leaning against the railing like this is just another day, arms crossed, his expression annoyingly calm.
“He looked fine,” Bishop adds, standing beside him, though his eyes seem sharper. More observant.
“He didn’t look fine,” I argue.
“He finished the drive,” Killian says.
“That doesn’t mean?—”
