“What is happening right now?” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away.
“Just watch,” Killian says beside me, his phone already raised to record.
The entire team joins in as the chorus hits, dramatic hand gestures and all, but Shepherd is the one leading this ridiculous,beautiful spectacle. His eyes never leave mine, making it clear this entire production is for me and me alone.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can barely process what’s happening as Shepherd dramatically gestures toward me while lip-syncing,“Even if we can’t find heaven, I’ll walk through hell with you.”
The entire stadium has gone wild, people turning to see who this grand gesture is for, phones raised to capture the moment. But I barely register any of them. All I can see is Shepherd, this man who’s somehow broken through every wall I’ve ever built, standing in the middle of a professional football field, making the most ridiculous, beautiful, public declaration I’ve ever witnessed.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “He’s dancing! He told me he doesn’t dance! Is he insane?”
“Completely,” Bishop confirms, grinning beside me.
“Certifiably.” Killian nods.
“For you,” Mari adds, squeezing my arm. “He’s completely insane for you.”
As the song builds, the team starts a choreographed dance move that they’ve clearly rehearsed. It’s not perfect—these are football players, not dancers—but there’s an earnestness to it that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. They’re all in on this. The entire team moving together in this ridiculous display just to make me feel…what? Safe? Loved? Protected?
Jake Ward, Shepherd’s favorite receiver, does an exaggerated spin move that has the crowd roaring. The defense joins in with dramatic fist pumps on the chorus, and I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from my chest, a sound of pure disbelief and joy.
The coaches on the sideline look torn between amusement and horror as their entire team abandons warmups for thisimpromptu performance. I spot Coach Wilson with his head in his hands, but even he can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“He’s going to get fined for this,” I say, my voice barely audible over the music.
“Oh, absolutely,” Killian confirms cheerfully. “Probably benched for a play or two as well.”
“Then why?—”
“Because he doesn’t care,” Bishop says simply. “Look at him, Sutton. Does he look like a man who gives a single fuck about consequences right now?”
Tears spring to my eyes before I can stop them, and Mari wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“I think your quarterback is trying to tell you something,” she whispers in my ear.
As the song reaches its emotional peak, Shepherd breaks from the line, jogging toward our section of the stadium. The security guards don’t even try to stop him—they must have been warned—as he approaches the barrier separating the field from the stands.
He’s looking directly at me, his expression so open and vulnerable that it steals my breath. When he reaches the wall, he points at me, then places his hand over his heart. The gesture is so simple yet so profound that a sob catches in my throat.
“I’m gonna stand by you,” he mouths along with the song, and I know he means every word.
The stadium is going absolutely wild now, the crowd having figured out that this is some kind of statement but at this moment, it feels like there’s only Shepherd and me, connected by an invisible thread that not even a stadium full of people can break.
When the music finally fades, Shepherd grins—that boyish, slightly crooked smile that never fails to make my stomach flip—and blows me a kiss before jogging back. I don’tknow what makes me do it, but I leap out of my seat, sparkly jacket and all, and shout, “HAYNES” as loud as I can.
Shepherd hears me and turns back, his eyes locked with mine. “Yeah?”
“I love you so fucking much you ridiculous bastard!”
Shepherd’s face is a picture of shock and pure joy as the words leave my mouth. Around us, the entire stadium seems to freeze for half a second before erupting into even wilder cheers.
Did I just shout that I love him across a football field with thousands of people watching?
Yes. Yes, I did.
And I don’t regret it for a single second.
Shepherd’s smile grows impossibly wider as he punches the air triumphantly. His teammates swarm him, slapping his back and shouting things I can’t hear over the crowd’s roar. But his eyes never leave mine, and he mouths something that looks undeniably like “I love you too” before Coach Wilson finally grabs him by the shoulder pads and physically turns him toward the sideline.
