Harlan leaps, arms high in the air, wrapping around the ball and cradling it. Then he runs like hell into the end zone.
I lose my mind, along with the rest of the fans and the team itself.
My dad and I high-five, and hug, and he holds me close for longer than two football fans normally embrace. “You did good. I’m proud of you, Katie,” he whispers in my ear, at just the right volume for me to hear.
“Me too,” I say, emotion tight in my voice.
“But then, I’ve always been proud of you.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
When the game ends, the Renegades celebrate on the field, but the man who made the game-winning touchdown yanks off his helmet and rushes over to me. I make my way to the edge of the stands, racing closer to him.
His grin is elated. His brown eyes are lit up like sparklers.
When I reach him, he lifts his arms for me, and I climb over the stands and into them.
He tugs me close, kisses me, and says, “Playoffs, sweetheart.”
“Get that third ring, handsome.”
He smooches me hard, and when he lets go, a reporter strides over and asks for a minute.
“Sure,” he says.
She thrusts the mic at him. “How did it feel to make that game-winning touchdown catch?”
He glances at me next to him.
I squeeze his hand, letting him know I’m by his side. He told the team his news already, but he hasn’t told the fans. “It felt great, Erin. Especially since this is my last season.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. You’ve decided to retire?”
He nods, resolute, making his announcement official. “I have. This will be my last season as a Renegade, and I hope we go out on top. I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.”
“And what will you do when you retire?”
He shrugs happily, lifts our joined hands, presses a kiss to mine. “Spend time with my girlfriend and my daughter. Maybe take some trips.” He turns to me. “Hey, Katie, want to travel in the off-season?”
“As long as the timing works out,” I say with a smile.
He winks my way, and I catch it.
“We’re a good team,” he says.
Yes, yes we are.
Chapter 39
Emerson
Early February
I whistle with approval as Katie holds up a sparkly fuchsia Renegades sweatshirt. “Is this the winner?”
It’s the top for her to wear tonight, for many reasons. “Perfection. The sparkles are so very you. Plus, you totally look like a WAG,” I tell her as I kick my foot back and forth in our Vegas hotel room.
