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I almost saw Carson too late. He dove at me from the right, just as I leapt. His body crashed hard against mine, pain shooting through my side before I hit the ground, holding the ball like there was nothing more important in my life.
“Touchdown!” Garrett pulled me to my feet, the two of us hugging and celebrating. I felt invincible, like there was nothing in the whole world I couldn’t do.
I looked up, kissed my fingertips, then lifted my arm and grinned. If Houston saw this later, he would know that was for him.
Everything was a blur after that—getting the extra point, stopping Tennessee on their next play, and letting time run out when we got the ball again.
We did it. We’d fucking won. Next up, the divisional.
I was ten minutes into my postgame interviews when one of the reporters said, “Overtime just ended, and the Royals won. Looks like it’s going to be the Rush and the Royals in the next round. What’s it going to be like to play against the team your boyfriend is coaching?”
I smiled cockily. “There’s no one in the world I like beating more than Houston, and I’m sure if you asked him, he’d say the same about me. I know just what to do to make him forgive me when we send the Royals packing.” I winked. The room erupted in questions, and while I fielded every one just the way I should, all I could think of was how happy I was for Houston, but I was still damn sure planning on beating him.
22
HOUSTON
I stood in awestruck shock as the stadium reverberated with thunderous cheers. We’d done it. We’d bested the Rush and made up for that embarrassing loss from a few weeks ago. I knew we had a chance, but I was still taken aback at how everything had played out. A wave of pride and joy washed over me as I watched the celebration taking place on the field.
Both teams had played hard and done their best. The Royals had taken a cue from the Rush’s earlier match against Tennessee and focused heavily on the defense early in the game before pushing a strong offensive toward the end of the first half and continuing into the second half. Everyone had been on point, every play executed to precision, and we’d pulled past them, ending the game with a seven-point lead, thanks to Whitt intercepting a pass and taking it all the way downfield for a touchdown, showcasing the incredible speed he was known for.
I snapped into action as some of the guys came off the field, clapping them on the back and tossing out congratulations. I kept an eye on Cullen, too, across the field where the team was huddling, shoulders sagging with defeat, their expressions grim, and only yanked my focus back to the present when the press started coming around.
I was on my third recap about our offense when an arm wrapped around me. Even if the touch wasn’t familiar and welcomed, I would’ve known who it was by the way the reporter’s eyes lit up with glee, and she tilted the mic immediately toward Cullen as I wrapped an arm around his waist.
“I’ll bet this is an especially hard loss for you, Cullen?”
I flinched, immediately on guard, but Cullen chuckled warmly. “Ouch, harsh. That’s really how you’re gonna lead? How about ‘how excited are you for your boyfriend’s W?’”
I eyed him sidelong. “How excited are you for your boyfriend’s W?”
“I think y’all got lucky.” Cullen shrugged, affecting nonchalance, but I knew he was aching inside over the defeat.
I shoved him. “Bullshit.”
The reporter was clearly eating it up, happy to let us volley back and forth at each other, so we entertained her for a few more seconds before I swatted Cullen away. “I need to get back to the team and then go celebrate my win.”
In reality, I just wanted to get Cullen back to my place. We’d agreed before he’d flown in that he’d stay with me that night instead of at the hotel with the rest of the team, and I looked forward to getting him alone and making sure he was okay. While he was playing it off well, I knew how hard the loss had to be for him, even if he was happy for me.
And, fine, I just wanted to be alone with him, too.
But we didn’t get much of a chance to do that because Garrett and Ramsey guilt-tripped us into meeting them out for drinks. Cullen dragged me out of the apartment with a laugh as I grumbled.
We met up with Garrett, Ramsey, Tucker, and a few other Rush members at Rumba. Some of the team had already crashed, and another portion had gone to a strip club to drown their sorrows and would likely run into plenty of Royals members who were doing the exact opposite. I hoped everyone would be on good behavior tonight.
