Page 224 of Hard Pass

I laugh.

I actually laugh, and my chest hurts with it.

Her hands frame my face, and her lips meet mine in a chaste kiss.

“You did it,” she says, eyes bright and wild and emotional all at once. “You actually fucking did it.”

“We did it.”

“No.” She shakes her head hard enough for strands of her hair to fall loose. Her hands run over my cheeks, my shoulders, my arms as if she has to touch me to believe this is real. That I’m real. “You did.”

Emotion punches straight through my chest.

Around us, cameras flash nonstop. Teammates scream and celebrate nearby. Confetti sticks to the shoulders of my jersey while stadium lights burn overhead.

None of it feels as overwhelming as the way Dublin’s looking at me right now.

“You saw it?” I ask quietly.

She nods. “And you overcame it.” Her smile wrecks me. “No fear.”

“No fear,” I whisper.

Not because it’s gone but because it finally doesn’t own me anymore.

I lean my forehead against hers, closing my eyes briefly.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers.

Emotion clogs in my throat. “Careful, Trouble. Emotions and football fields don’t exactly mix.”

She laughs as she lowers her legs to the ground. “That might be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I grin despite myself. “That’s a high bar.”

“Cole.” She gestures around us. “There are literally massive-sized grown men hiding their tears in towels right now.”

“Yeah, but those are acceptable because they’re football tears.”

A laugh bursts out of her, bright and carefree, and fuck . . . I think I’d chase that sound and this feeling for the rest of my life if she’d let me.

Around us confetti continues to drift down while reporters scramble across the field to get interviews and sound bites.

But I don’t care about any of it.

Not about the cameras, the headlines—not any of it.

All I care about is the woman who stood with me when it felt like my world was falling apart . . . and maybe winning a playoff game or three.

“You know what I think?” she asks.

“What?”

“I think you’re finally starting to believe in yourself. I believe you’re starting to own the fact that you and you alone got you to where you are right now—on this field with me loving you.”

Christ. Those words feel just as validating as the playoff clinch.

She’s right.