Their quarterback called the play. Their center snapped the ball. I found my target immediately: their tight end. The ball flew through the air, and the tight end tried to get separation from me. He did a spin move I’d seen Milo do a million times in practice. I knew how to stop it. I’d practiced the defense of that exact move a thousand times over the course of the last season. I reached out to grab him around the waist and tackle him to the ground.
Except my cleats didn’t catch properly on the snow-covered turf.
He slipped from my grasp, and I tumbled forward. Their tight end took off at a breakneck speed. He was more than ten yards away by the time I got back up. I watched him dodge a tackle from our safety, the last line of defense.
The Knights crowd went wild as their tight end crossed the line into the end zone.
The game was over.
We lost.
I kept replaying the moment we lost in my head.
It wouldn’t stop. It was like a broken record, skipping and repeating the same terrible moment. I’d lost the team the game. I could feel my chances of getting a contract renewal slipping away with every mental replay. I laid alone in my bed, and I just kept replaying it. I didn’t need to get online to know what people were saying. I didn’t need to watch the clip to know that everyone would blame the end of the Scorpions season on that one bad play.
I’d never been like this after a loss before.
I had lost a lot of football games in my life. It had always just been a game. It didn’t matter what was riding on the game, when I stepped off the field, I moved on. Well, except for the first part of my season with the Scorpions, when we hadn’t won a single game and I was facing the worst losing streak of my life. And none of those losses had been my fault. It had been different.
This time, it was my fault.
The moment replayed again and again. I wasn’t going to get signed back to the Scorpions. Milo and I were going to have to talk about how our marriage would work—howwewould work—with me somewhere else. There were thirty-one other teams in the ALF. I could be sent anywhere. We’d fall apart. We’d only been together a few months. The idea of losing him twisted my stomach into knots, sending waves of nausea through my body.
I’d ruined everything.
A knock on my hotel door broke through the constant replay. I didn’t want to see my teammates. I didn’t want to see anyone.
Whoever was on the other side knocked again. “Row, let me in.” Milo’s voice sounded through the door. I contemplated ignoring him. “If you don’t let me in, I’m getting Coach Cal to put me on your room as your husband, getting a key, and letting myself in.”
Damn it. I knew he wasn’t bluffing. He would do that, and Coach Cal might just let him. I sighed and rolled off the bed. I plodded barefoot toward the door and opened it to let him in.
I started to walk back to my bed, but Milo caught me by the wrist. He spun me around and pulled me into a tight hug. “You played great today. It’s not your fault,” he whispered as he rubbed my back in small circles. He kept whispering reassurances to me while he rubbed my back until I finally relaxed against him. He didn’t let go of me until I did, and then, he slid his hand down my arm to link our hands together.
He pulled me to the queen bed I’d been wallowing in when he arrived. He sat down and tugged me down with him. Once I was seated, he nudged me until my head was resting in his lap, and his skilled fingers began to scratch my head. It was the same comfort I’d given him just two nights prior, when his nerves had kept him awake.
“What if they don’t re-sign me over this?” I asked him, giving voice to the fear that had taken root in my heart.
“Then they’re idiots,” Milo said bluntly. “But Bex isn’t an idiot. One bad play doesn’t cancel out the fact that you were our best lineman all season. They’re not going to get rid of you.”
I wanted to believe him. He spoke with so much conviction that I almost did. He knew Bex Meechum better than I did. I’d only met her a handful of times during the season, but Milo had been on the team longer. I’d seen him with Bex over the season, and they talked like friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the group chats that were always blowing up his cell phone had our team’s GM amongst its members.
“Phone Troy in the morning. Ask him for an update,” Milo advised. “Find out if they’re in negotiations.”
“He won’t tell me until there’s something on the table.” I trusted Troy. I had told him a few years before, when the Foxes had offered me a new contract, that I didn’t want to know how the sausage was made. He had the technical knowledge to know the average value of players in my position. He knew how to negotiate on my behalf. When he presented me with a contract, I read it over and either signed it or told him what issues I had with it so he could go back and try to fix things.
I felt Milo shift as he leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on the top of my head. I turned to capture his lips. “We did really well today.”
I sat back up and looked at Milo. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky.
When I’d first met Milo at the beginning of the season, I hadn’t known what he would mean to me later. I’d been so annoyed by him. He’d been too loud, too boisterous, too active. He’d talked my ear off when I was trying to enjoy a quiet work out and he’d nearly poisoned me with his failed attempts at baking. Now, I couldn’t imagine facing time without him. He was loud and boisterous. He did talk too much, and he could be annoying.
None of that mattered because he was also kind. He was friendly. He saw parts of me that no one ever had, and he pulled parts of me out that no one ever could. He knew how to soothe me. When I thought I’d hidden how upset I’d been from the team, from him, from everyone, he’d shown up at my door. His presence stopped the film reel in my mind, and he talked me down.
Realization dawned on me. “I love you.”
Milo blinked once, twice, and then he smiled softly. It was the same soft smile he’d given me in the locker room when I’d checked in on him. “I love you too.”
Maybe we’d lost the game. Maybe our season had ended, but I’d still won. This season, I’d been traded away from the team I’d spent my entire career with, but I’d found the love of my life.
