“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
I’m sure she can hear my heart pounding between us, enough to know what my answer is.
“My lips are yours, Sadie,” I say.
She pulls away from me slightly, then studies my face before her finger traces my lips, and I beg them not to tremble against her touch, but they do. Sadie is destined to be both my undoing and my making.
When she leans in, I don’t meet her partway. I wait for her. When her lips press into mine, it’s soft at first, the imprint of her lips no longer a memory on my mouth but a reality. A burning heat rushes through me, and it must also happen to her, because her kiss deepens and light flashes behind my eyes. Her hands are soon in my hair and mine in hers.
I’ve felt a lot of things on this field, but nothing compares to the strength of this.
Air suddenly seems unnecessary as the breath in my lungs become filled with hers. If this is all she gives me, I’ll spend the rest of my life grateful for it.
I hear a familiar hum through the stadium before the speakers crackle and pop.
“This is a family show,” Caleb’s voice booms, but it’s light. “But don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Sadie finally withdraws her swollen lips from mine. Her hair is tousled in the best of ways, and she laughs. The sound is rich, warm, infectious.
Music begins to play through the speakers. “Slow Dance in a Parking Lot” by Jordan Davis.
I stand, my legs shaky, and offer Sadie my hand. “Want to dance?”
Her brown eyes sparkle. “It appears that’s next on the agenda.”
When the lyrics almost arrive at the wordsparking lot, Caleb’s voice is loud in the speaker, correcting it tostadium. Sadie’s smile stretches out farther and she leans back as I hold her, laughing.
I never want the song or her joy to end.
I spin her around, her movements wild and free. When I pull Sadie back to me, we sway easily to the rhythm. When the song fades, Caleb’s voice booms again, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to MetLife Stadium for tonight’s matchup between the beautiful Sadie Summers and the worse-for-wear Milo Carter!”
I shake my head as Sadie looks up at me, a mischievous tilt to her mouth.
“Well?” she says softly.
“Well, what?”
“Let’s play, Hot Shot.”
39
SADIE
Something changedwithin me on that turf, or maybe something was remembered—where my tears were wiped and my fears were met with Milo’s quiet sureness.
And Milo Carter—he was the real deal.
A football star with great potential. I knew he was important when I watched #35 appear on the screen back in Dusty Hollow, but I didn’t understand the magnitude of it until my own feet were on the field.
“Here.” Caleb hands me a jersey. “It’s yours.”
We’re back in some kind of dugout, where the lights are still bright but the space feels more intimate. It smells like laundry soap and sweat—like hard work and hope.
I take the royal-blue jersey withCarterprinted on the back and smile as I look back up at Caleb. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirms. “I’ve been saving it for you.”
