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I swallow my retort. If I have any hope of getting past Thomas to Ariah, I’ll have to play nice. “I just need to see her, T. I’ve been trying for weeks to get her alone, just once,” I plead.
“You know you’re treading on dangerous grounds, right? You have a device in your arm that could be set off at any given time,” he explains.
My nostrils flare at the reminder, but my determination is renewed when I remember it’s homecoming. “If Samantha did anything here, her existence would be wiped from history. Today is the perfect day to push the envelope.”
Thomas glares down at me for another second before turning to speak into his earpiece. “You’ve got ten minutes. By halftime, you need to be back on the field like you never left, and if she refuses to speak to you, you’re out.”
“Got it,” I readily agree, darting past him up the final set of stairs.
The best part of how this stadium is constructed is that each family suite has complete privacy—no shared hallways or bathrooms. So the only person I see is Fernando, and he shoulder-checks me. “What’s your problem?” I snap.
“Rich, asshole pricks like you,” he retorts.
“Says the rich prick to the other rich prick. I think you’re projecting, but none of that currently matters. Move out of my way, or I’ll slice you a new airway.”
Chuckling, he says, “You think you scare me, Pretty Boy?
“You’ve underestimated me if I don’t, and that’s an error on your part. One I’ll happily rectify after I see my girl. Now move the fuck out of my way.” I spit through clenched teeth. My hand is already wrapped around Lizzie.
“Escucha, cabrón, no me asustas,” he shoots off in rapid Spanish, thinking I won’t understand. “I’m letting you through because it’s an order, but if you hurt her, your little knives won’t save you from me, comprende?”
My lip curls. “Yeah, I got you, Asshole.”
Fernando steps out of my way, but he mumbles, “Pinche malditos idiotas niños ricos y sus estuoidos pendejos cuchillos.” Then, I pull open the door to the bathroom.
I slide Lizzie back into her holster and run my thumb along Lola’s handle.
“Nando, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Closing my eyes, I bask in the melodic sound of her voice, and for the first time in months, I truly breathe.
The stall door opens, but she remains frozen in place until I hear her gasp. “Owen.”
Ariah’s mouth hangs open, but the words are stuck in my throat. I can’t believe she’s here, and I’m in touching distance with nothing and no one keeping us apart.
I let my feet move since my mouth won’t work. I don’t stop walking until I’m standing toe-to-toe with her. Watery silver eyes peer up at me, and I lift my hand to cup her cheek, finally finding my voice.
“Angel.”
33
ARIAH
Ilean into his touch, one I thought I’d never feel again. I refuse to make any sudden movements in case this is all in my head. I want to live here forever.
A tear escapes at the sound of him saying my name, the one only he calls me. . . Angel. It plays on repeat, a skipping soundtrack I never intend to fix.
“Don’t cry, Angel,” he murmurs, wiping the rivulets of tears now flowing freely down my face. “Don’t cry,” Owen repeats.
I suck in a lungful of air at the brush of his lips against my skin. Owen clasps my neck, bringing his forehead to mine. “You’re. . . you’re really here,” I stutter, lifting my head.
“Home,” he growls, pressing his mouth against mine, and I’m lost. All thought and reason vanish as our tongues dance.
I allow myself to bask in the feel of him a moment longer before I push him away. “What are you doing here?” I demand, praying my voice doesn’t betray me. “Shouldn’t you be down on the field watching your friends play and your fiancée cheer?”
Owen winces, hurt and anger burning in his hazel eyes. “She’s not my anything,” he snaps, running his fingers through his unkempt hair.
“What the hell do you mean?”
