Page 195 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

I understood football a lot more than I did when Kyrie and I first met, mostly because this nigga never shut the hell up about it.

But right now?

I wasn’t worried about anybody else on that field.

I was watching number twenty-one.

The ball was snapped, and Kyrie took off.

My heart damn near jumped into my throat when the quarterback threw the ball downfield.

“Come on…”

Kyrie reached up.

Caught that bitch.

And took the fuck off.

I shot up from my seat.

“GO, BIG DADDY!”

Everybody around me was already screaming, but when Kyrie made it into the end zone, I lost my damn mind.

“THAT’S MY HUSBAND!”

I was jumping, screaming, clapping, doing every damn thing.

I didn’t care.

My man had just scored in his first game back after being fucking shot.

Hell yeah, I was going to act a fool.

Kyrie turned toward our section and pointed straight at me.

I pressed both hands against my mouth.

“Don’t do it,” I mumbled.

My eyes were already getting watery.

“I swear to God, Kyrie.”

This nigga was going to have me out here crying in front of everybody.

And judging by the big-ass grin on his face, he knew it too.

✦ ✦

By the time the game ended, I was ready to see my husband.

The Vipers had won, Kyrie had played his ass off, and I already knew his head was probably big as hell.

I grabbed my things and started making my way out with everybody else when I heard someone call me.

“Mrs. Maddox?”