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I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I turned around and walked down the steps of his porch, Cooper following beside me. Maybe Mila was right. Maybe giving Marshall a chance wouldn't be the worst thing I'd done. It certainly wouldn't be the most dangerous. I already knew what that felt like.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MARSHALL

My groin injury had healed. Dr. Reeves had cleared me after five days on the condition that I warmed up like an adult before every practice and game. Those had been her exact words. I was still tender on certain movements, but it wasn't as limiting, and I'd been doing the rehab exercises every morning like I'd been told.

We were on a winning streak and we were all playing well. The systems that Briggs had put into place were finally looking more like instinct. Briggs had finally stopped looking like he wanted to murder each one of us after practice, too. It was Thursday afternoon when Briggs pulled me aside in the tunnel.

"Can I have a word?" He questioned.

"Sure, Coach." I said, moving to the side to let two guys through.

"You've been good, Hayes. Consistent. You've improved on the defensive reads, and you're anticipating plays instead of reacting now, which is exactly what I told you to do in week one. Your speed is increasing after your injury, and it looks to me as if you are playing like someone who plans to be here for a while."

I said nothing, stood and listened because I had received a prior warning against interrupting Briggs while he was speaking.

"The organization has been watching, and there is talk of extending your contract. Multi-year. Nothing is finalized of course. The GM wants to see another month of consistency before putting anything on paper, but I wanted you to hear it from me first, not from your agent or a reporter."

"I appreciate that, Coach."

"Keep playing the way you have been, and the contract will take care of itself. The moment your focus shifts to that contract instead of the game, the game will suffer and the contract will disappear." He paused for a minute, and then walked away, his shoes squeaking on the rubber mat.

I called my father from the parking lot, and he answered on the second ring, as if he'd been holding the phone waiting for my call.

"Dad, they are talking about extending my contract." I said, "Multi-year."

He was quiet for a second. "Well, son, you earned it. Don't let up, keep giving it all you've got."

"I won't give up, Dad. Say hi to Mom for me."

"I will. Love you, and we are both so proud."

"Thanks. Love you."

I hung up and sat in my truck for a minute, the engine running and the heater warming the cab. It was getting colder. The trees had fully turned, and red, gold, and orange lit up the landscape, making it look like it were on fire.

Tonight the guys were having a party at Ashfords place. I'd already decided I would not go, so I texted Jeremy letting him know I was going to rest up instead. He responded with a thumbs up emoji and nothing else, which meant he understood or he was already well on his way to getting drunk and didn't care.

I went home instead and pulled into my driveway, killing the engine. I climbed out and pulled my bag from the back of my truck and saw something on my front door. I made my way up the steps to find a yellow post-it note stuck there. I peeled it off my door and looked at the neat handwriting.

Congrats on the winning streak. You guys looked amazing out there. L.

I stood there holding the post-it note in my hand, smiling like an idiot. She'd been watching my games enough to know about the streak we were on, and she'd walked over here and left a note on my door to let me know.

I opened the door and threw my bag inside, and then I went over to her place, the note still in my hand, and knocked.

A second later the door opened, and Lillah stood there in her bathrobe. It was a white, fluffy, terry-cloth robe, cinched at the waist. Underneath it, barely visible at the neckline where the robe gaped, was a red lace edge that made my brain short-circuit for about a second. Her hair was wet, falling in damp waves around her shoulders.

"Hey." I said, my voice low, trying to keep myself together as my body reacted to the sight of her.

"Hi." she said, looking down at herself and then back at me as a flush crept across her cheeks. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

"I got your note." I said, holding the post-it up between my fingers, leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, I thought the note spoke for itself, didn't it?" She said, smiling. "You don't come to the note-writer's door; you just read the note, go inside and feel good about it." She said, smiling.

"I wanted to say thank you in person." I said, meeting her eyes.