Chapter 75
BELLA
Wexley University
“Alright everyone,” Knox says, voice echoing across the gym, “listen up.” A few people whistle and cheer from the bleachers, but he lifts a hand to quiet them. “This one’s a little different.”
I pull in a breath, steadying myself at half court.
His tone shifts, softer, but strong. “Today’s not just a dress rehearsal for Nationals. It’s not just warm ups before tonight’s Row party at the Catacombs. Today is a celebration of this team, this girl—” he points to me, “—and her dad.”
The gym quiets.
“Henry Harrington was the kind of man who showed up. To every game. Every performance. Every moment that mattered. So today, we show up for his girl.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Just breathe.
“And y’all better behave, because if any of you make her cry, I swear to God, Lex will kick your ass, Cade will paint your tombstone, and I’ll DJ your funeral.”
The gym’s still echoing with laughter when Knox lifts the mic again, that smug little smirk stretching across his face like he’s been dying to drop this bomb.
“Now Bella…” he says, dragging it out like it’s a game. “Before you start shaking your sparkly ass out here and stealing the show, some of our Wolves have a little surprise for you.”
Cal and August start to walk out on the court and stand beside me.
“Alright, Wexley,” Knox booms, voice bouncing off every wall like a damn cannon. “We know you know this one, because we all practiced it, so it’s time to…” He raises his hands in the air. “CALL. THOSE. HOGS!”
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
“WOOOOO. PIG. SOOIE!”
My heart stutters. My breath gets stuck somewhere between my ribs.
“WOOOOO. PIG. SOOIE!”
It’s like a freight train of memories—game nights, lake weekends, Razorback red everywhere. Daddy yelling louder than anyone else in the stadium.
“WOOOOO. PIG. SOOIE! RAZORBACKS!”
The gym explodes. And I break. Tears hit my cheeks and my knees almost buckle. It’s perfect. It’s Arkansas. It’s Daddy.
Cal opens his arms and I walk right into them as he lifts me in the air.
“Told you we had you,” he says, holding me tight.
“This was your idea?” I cry.
“For you, Razorback.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out like a sob. “My dad would’ve lost his mind.”
“Then we nailed it.”
Knox clears his throat again, trying to keep it together. “Alright, Cal, you and August take your fine-ass selves back to the bleachers.”
Cal kisses my forehead. August grins and salutes me before jogging off, dropping back into their spot with the rest of the football guys. I wipe under my eyes, sniff once, and glance over at Knox.
He gives me a small nod, mic still in hand. “Bella, head on out to the front walkway.”
The front walkway cuts between the edge of the court and the first row of bleachers, right where they’re all sitting. Lex. Cade. The Whitmores. The Barinovs. Roman.
Shit, this a mistake, I can’t do this.
“Where I’m From” by Jason Michael Carroll starts to play, soft and slow. I try to hold back the tears. I lock eyes with Lex. He nods once, calm and steady. I look at Cade, he smiles back at me.
No, they’re here. I can do this.
When I hit the first chorus, I start walking. Slow, easy steps across the front walkway, heels clicking against the metal walkway, the sound drowned beneath the music and my heartbeat.
God, Daddy, I hope you’re watching, because I don’t know how to do this without you.
When I sing about moms and dads being together since high school, my gaze finds Savannah and Clay—forever sweethearts. She blows me a kiss and I smile through the lump in my throat.
I keep singing. My voice stays steady, even when my hands tremble. And, when I reach the part that talks about brothers, I stop walking.
Zeke, please… if you’re out there, please be the good guy. I can’t survive this if you’re not.
Lex reaches out and rubs my thigh, just once. Like he knows I’m balancing on the edge of a thought I’m terrified to fall into. It’s enough. The storm inside me stills.
Then I hit the part about going home to family and friends, and I don’t hold back. I belt it out with my southern twang thick, raw, and real. That Arkansas grit lives in my bones, and it rises in every note.
Memories of my life in the south rushes through me. And all I can do is smile. It probably doesn’t sound like much to some people here from New York, but it’s where I’m from and in this moment I’m damn proud of it.
When I get to the line about the quarterback and the homecoming queen, I look up. Straight into the rafters. Straight into heaven. And I point.
To Mama.
To Daddy.
To everything that made me, me.
My breath trembles, but my spine stays straight. I turn toward the girls, ready to return to formation, ready to move on. But then I see it.
The jumbotron.
It’s changed. It’s me and Daddy. Little me in pigtails, grinning with gap teeth.
Daddy spinning me barefoot in the kitchen, both of us laughing.
Him lifting me onto his shoulders at a Razorback game, red foam finger in my tiny hand.
My birthday. My dance recital, me in a sparkly tutu, him in a suit and tie, kneeling down so we’re eye level.
My graduation party. Us in New York when Zeke flew him in for the Fourth of July.
Every photo a memory. Every one a wound. And I cry. Not loud. Not messy. Just soft, stunned tears. The kind you cry when love wraps around your ribs and squeezes.
Lex and Cade come up behind me like they felt the second my heart cracked open and realized I needed their touch. They don’t say anything. Just wrap around me. One arm each. Holding me like they’ve got me. Like I’m safe. Like I’m home.
I lean back into their warmth. “How?” I whisper.
“I called Jack,” Lex’s voice is low against my ear. His lips brush my temple as he tightens his hold. “Told him you’d need this.”
His fingers find mine, threading through, palm to palm, and he squeezes. Steady. Sure. I close my eyes and breathe them in.
The gym erupts in cheers. And Knox’s voice fills the space, thick with emotion, “Give it up for Bella Blackwood, y’all.”
Lex kisses my forehead, “Breathe, just breathe. You’re home, baby.”
???
After we run through a couple of our routines for Nationals and Worlds, the crowd starts buzzing again. My chest is heaving from the last routine. We hit every beat, every flip, every turn. Clean. Powerful.
“Alright, alright, enough practice for a little while.” The crowd whistles and claps, but Knox keeps going. “I mean, y’all killed it. Tens across the board. First place at Nationals and Worlds without a doubt.”
Someone in the stands yells, “Trifecta for life!”
I roll my eyes, grinning.
“But…” Knox drawls, and the noise dips just enough for him to keep going. “I think it’s time for something else. Something fun. Something filthy.”
The Row boys go feral.
“I think it’s time we give the people what they want…” he pauses dramatically….“Trifecta, I think we give them a damn chair.”
They lose it. Absolute uproar. Cal is on his feet. August’s shirt is halfway off.
Knox just laughs into the mic. “Okay, okay! Freshmen, go grab me one of our signature chairs.” Knox turns to me, still amped. “Bella, since today is about you, you’re doing the chairs. I’m gonna let you pick the song.”
I laugh, shaking my head as everyone screams louder.
“But,” Knox holds up a finger. “There’s a catch.”
Oh no.
“Lex gets to pick who goes in the chair.”
I whip my head toward him. Lex is leaning forward in his seat like he’s been waiting for this moment. The look on his face? Cocky. Lethal. Like he already knows he’s won. He stands slowly with his eyes locked on me.
Of course he’d pick himself. There’s not a single universe where Lex Barinov watches me do a chair routine and doesn’t claim the seat for himself. Asshole. God, I love him so much.
“First chair goes to Cade.”
Holy shit.
The crowd howls. Cade gives Lex a look—part mock-offended, part amused—but he’s already standing. He brushes a hand across my back as he walks past, low and slow.
I smile and run over to tell Knox my song choice. Knox grins like he’s been waiting all day for this. He paces in front of the booth like a ringmaster about to unleash hell.
“Alright everybody shut up!”
The crowd just gets louder. He laughs, shaking his head.
“The queen has spoken,” he bows to me. “And she picked a good one for you, Cade.”
Cade throws a lazy salute from the chair, already lounging like he was born for it.
“But first things first,” Knox adds. “You know what’s coming, dude.”
Cade raises an eyebrow like he’s playing dumb.
The Legacy girls scream at the top of their lungs, “TAKE IT OFF!”
I shrug at Cade and wink. Cade tips his head back laughing, hands going to the hem of his shirt as the opening beat of “Lollipop” by Lil Wayne drops. He pulls it off in one smooth motion, tossing it toward the bleachers. He opens his arms like a sacrifice to the gods.
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he drawls it out, voice full of smug heat.
I strut toward him with a grin that says I already own him.
This dance is usually split between me, Ellie, and Haley—rotating through the chair, switching places, building tension. But today? It’s just me. One queen. One chair. One man. I adjust on the fly improvise the gaps, slide into every beat.
The music pulses, the bass drops, and I sink onto Cade’s lap. I straddle him slow, one hand dragging up his chest, the other threading through his hair just to tug. A teasing little pull. He leans back and lets me, smiling like the smug bastard he is. I stare straight into those hazel eyes.
“Damn, sweetheart,” he breathes, low and rough, “I missed you.”
I slide off him like liquid silk, letting the next part of the routine take over. It’s flirtatious and filthy—hips rolling, fingers dragging down my own body, teasing him, teasing the whole crowd. They eat it up.
Cade just licks his lips, soaking it all in like I’m his personal religion. God, the way he looks at me like I’m still whole. Like I never broke.
I strut back over and sink down onto Cade again, grinding to the final beat. The Trifecta’s no touching rule? Yeah, not happening. Cade’s hands are on me the whole time, palms sliding up my thighs and fingers tracing my waist.
When he runs his hand down my spine, I arch. Goosebumps erupt across my skin. He laughs. That cocky, low laugh I forgot I loved so much.
I’ve missed my guys. Their hands, their heat, the way they orbit me like I’m their sun.
I’ve missed this too. The music. The movement. The way the bass crawls under my skin and rewires everything I thought I couldn’t feel. The way the beat takes over, louder than my thoughts, steadier than my heartbeat.
The song ends, but he doesn’t let me go. He pulls me in, slow and steady, like I’m something sacred. And when his lips find mine, it’s soft and sweet. That low, burning ache we never really lost. Like his mouth remembers every version of me it’s ever kissed.
I smile against his lips. “So, should I just sit here a minute, you know…” I drag one finger down his chest, stopping just above his belt, “…until you cool down?”
He grabs my hand, heat flaring in his eyes. “Sweetheart,” he rasps, “you are going to be the death of me.”
“I love you, Cade.”
“I love you more, Bella.”
Knox’s voice crackles over the mic, grinning. “Whew! Somebody remind me what the hell happened to the no-touching rule?” The crowd laughs. “Damn, Bella… that was hot.”
Knox runs his hands through his hair. “And Cade, you might want to just sit there for a little bit, buddy.”