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39
HARRY
“Hell. Fucking. Yes.”
Tonight’s game was my best performance. My best game since putting on the Iowa Paragons’ jersey. Possibly even better than my college years.
I had more playing time tonight than I’ve had in weeks. I even scored a touch down in the third quarter of the game, with a forty-six yard sprint down the sideline. My touch down put the Paragons on top. From there, we were on fire and went on to beat Denver 35 to 21.
I ended up with 100-plus yards myself, my first 100-plus game of my professional career.
After all that running, I should be exhausted, but instead, I feel exhilarated. Elated. Buzzed.
It was a win in our division that we desperately needed. It’s not an automatic guarantee of getting to the playoffs. It’ll still require a precarious string of wins and losses by other teams to work in our favor and earn us a spot as one of this season’s wild card teams, but at least after this win, we know we’ve done all we can. And it feels fucking amazing.
Still pumped after the brief media interview on the field, I rush through my locker room shower, change my clothes, and check my phone.
As usual, I’ve got a bunch of texts from Grammy who never misses a game.
GRAMMY: Are you sure the stats were right? I counted up way more yards, Harry. I never trust those know-it-all announcer guys.
GRAMMY: And you’ve got to turn to the left when they interview you. That’s your best side, remember?
Smiling to myself, I assure her that I trust that the stats were right and that I’ll be sure to take her pointers in my next interview. Then I tell her that I love and promise to call her in the morning.
I turn down the guys when they suggest going out for a round of celebratory drinks. That earns me some ribbing from my rowdy teammates, but I don’t care. I just want to find my girl.
Zipping up the front of my hoodie, I jog out of the locker room. I come to an unsteady halt when I find Nadia waiting in the crowded hall outside.
God—she’s a pretty sight, hustling in my direction and beaming at me. “Amazing game! You did so—”
Her words are cut off with a squeal when I swing her around and plant a hot kiss on her lips.
I should be a little careful about being out in the open like this with Nadia, especially in a place so closely tied to both our jobs. But I’m too freaking happy to care.I’m scary happy.
It’s safe to assume that my teammates have figured out that we’re together, and things are going great. As for the media, they’re all too busy waiting for a glimpse of Maxwell or Jace and the other starters to pay me any attention.
Still, I can see that Nadia is self-conscious about the PDA. “Harry…” she hisses even though she can’t hide her smile.
She squirms out of my arms and glances around, making sure we have no spectators. Thankfully, all the media and fans in the hallway are busy trying to get a peek inside the locker room.
But she’s right. We can’t be putting on public displays of affection. Even though it’s killing me. Not until we’ve dealt with Liam.
We really need to make that conversation a priority. I’m tired of hiding her. I’m not willing to do this much longer.
Standing in this hallway and high off of my team’s win, keeping a respectable distance from my wife is painful. But I do it to protect her. “So…do you have plans tonigh—?”
“Let’s go back to your place,” she blurts out a little too eagerly.
My eyes slide down her body and I grin. “Sounds like a plan.”
Those tight dark jeans look mighty good on her curvy thighs. I’m going to have the time of my life peeling them off.
Dragging her into the shadows of the hallway, I snatch the scarf and knitted hat she has balled up in her hands.
“What are you doing?” she asks me as I set the hat on her head, making sure to tug it down over her ears.
“It’s cold tonight,” I tell her. “I’m getting you all bundled up.”
