Nothing exists for me now except her.
There's only one person here who has ever mattered, and she's running toward me, wearing my fucking jersey.
When our eyes connect, she slows down to a stop and holds her arms out wide, almost as if she’s giving me the choice.
Not a chance in hell I’m slowing down now.
I eat up the remaining yards faster than any play I’ve made all season.
The second I reach her, my hands are already on her face.
Honey grips my forearms, smiling at me through teary eyes as she takes me in with that perfect smile of hers.
My thumb brushes across her cheek, catching a tear before it falls. The second I feel her smooth skin, I smile.
Yup. This is real.
Her gaze drops to my hand. “Zach, your wrist? Are you okay?”
I laugh breathlessly. “Honeycomb, do you seriously think I give a fuck about my wrist right now?”
Before I know it, I'm kissing her, putting everything I feel into it.
I missed you. I've been patiently waiting for you. I love you. Why the fuck did you make me wait this long? I want to be where you are.
Starving. I've been so damn starving for her.
For a few perfect seconds, the stadium disappears. We aren't standing in the middle of a packed stadium celebrating a win; it's just us. It’s just her mouth on mine and the overwhelming realization that I finally have my girl back.
The loud collectiveawwechoing around the stadium is the only thing that forces me to pull away.
Shit.
We’re on the jumbotron, and Sienna is standing beside us, waiting for me. Doesn’t she realize she’s cock-blocking me right now?
I immediately shift in front of her so the cameras only catch my back. The most important thing to me is to protect Honey first. I can figure everything else out later.
Honey stills against me for half a second before the jumbotron lights up overhead. I already know what’s on it. Us. Right there in the middle of the field.
My stomach tightens automatically as I wait for her to tense up the way she used to at St. Michael’s. For her smile to disappear, and for the panic to creep in.
Only it doesn't.
Her thumb is brushing against my wrist, and if anything, she's giving me a small smile as though she knows exactly why I stepped in front of her.
Honey’s always known me better than anyone else on earth. Every ugly part. Every protective instinct. Every fear. That’swhat made her impossible to get over and completely impossible to stop loving.
She looks past my shoulder, straight at the camera, then toward the massive screen above us before settling back on me again.
Then, gently, she moves me aside.
My hands drop to her hips as her face appears on the jumbotron again. The stadium cheers.
“Honey, I thought—”
She cuts me off by rising onto her toes and kissing me hard enough to steal the rest of the sentence straight out of my mouth.
If the crowd was loud before, they’re deafening now.
