Chapter 20 - Landon #2
She made her way up front, accepting the special collector’s edition Surge jersey like it was made of gold. Only fifty in circulation. Cameras flashed. Teammates clapped. She turned once, searching, and when she found me, her smile widened.
I don’t think I stopped smiling until she came back to the table, jersey folded carefully in her arms like something fragile.
“This is incredible,” she said. “I’m never going to forget this night.”
I swallowed, emotion nudging at me. “I’m sorry. About the helmet. I should’ve—”
She shook her head, cutting me off. “This is a pretty good consolation prize.”
I laughed, relief washing through me as she tucked herself back against my side, jersey safe on her lap, the bar still buzzing around us.
With the quiz over, people started switching seats and making more frequent trips to the bar. Coach hung around at the jukebox, torturing us all with his personal brand of honky tonk blues.
“Can we talk for a second?” Nicole’s hand was already in mine as she slid from her seat.
“We can’t talk here?”
She shook her head, giving my hand a small tug. I got up and followed her without question, only stopping once she had us tucked in the quiet of a dingy hallway right outside the women’s bathroom.
She pressed herself closer, letting go of my hand so both of hers cupped my face, thumbs brushing over my jaw. Her eyes glistened with something raw, a mixture of relief, triumph, and exhaustion.
“I… I broke up with him,” she whispered. “James won’t be a problem anymore.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The tension that had been knotted in my chest for months unraveled in that instant.
Relief hit me first, sharp and sudden, then something warmer, fiercer, the certainty that she deserved more than the mess he’d been, more than anyone else, more than even I could have imagined.
“You deserve someone who—” I started, voice low, but she silenced me with a tilt of her head.
Our lips met. Hard. Soft. All at once. Her mouth opened to mine, searching, urgent.
I moved with her, hands threading through her hair, fingers tangling at the nape of her neck.
She pressed against me, her body warm, familiar, yet electric in its nearness.
Breathing came in quick, shallow bursts as the kiss deepened, and all the frustration, the waiting, the moments stolen and denied, poured into it.
I tasted her relief, her laughter lurking behind each breath, her joy spilling through every inch of contact.
My hands roamed her back, memorizing the curve of her waist, the slope of her shoulders.
She pressed against me, molding into the shape of everything I’d wanted for months and hadn’t dared to say.
The hallway faded around us. Time narrowed to the press of her lips against mine, the shudder in her shoulders, the tremor in her hands as she held onto me. We broke for air only to collide again, lips parting, teeth grazing, tongues brushing in the most deliberate, impatient way.
“I’ve wanted this,” she breathed, her voice raw against my lips. “For so long.”
“Me too,” I admitted, voice hoarse, teeth brushing her jaw as I kissed her again. “Way too long.”
Every touch was a confession, every press of our bodies a punctuation mark on the story we’d been writing together in stolen moments, in quiet longing, in the chaos of near misses and missed chances.
Her hands tightened in my hair, my arms wrapped around her like I’d never let go, and the kiss crescendoed, a perfect storm of relief, desire, and recognition that we were finally exactly where we were supposed to be.
When we finally pulled back, even for a heartbeat, her forehead rested against mine, breaths mingling, hearts still hammering. Neither of us spoke, because no words could contain it, because the journey of months—the frustration, the teasing, the yearning—was distilled into this, into her, into us.
Then she pressed her lips to mine once more, tender and fierce at the same time, and I knew we’d crossed the line from wanting to needing, from almost to whatever the hell forever was.
Our secret moment split down the middle when the door to the bar banged open, and three cops burst in.
Voices screamed over the laughter and chatter, and suddenly the room pulled tight with something that wasn’t easygoing celebration.
“We’re looking for Landon Cross,” one of the cops said.
Everything stopped. Glasses paused mid-sip, fries hung in the air like time had stuttered, and Nicole froze, eyes wide.
I felt her hand slip into mine again, tight and desperate.
“Officer— what’s going on?” I said, keeping my voice calm, even as adrenaline slammed through me.
Before she or I could react, two of them were on me. Hands clamped on my arms, twisting, forcing me upright, cuffs snapping around my wrists behind my back. The cold metal bit through my skin, and the room went wild.
“No! Wait! What are you doing?” Nicole yelled, stepping forward to wrangle me from their grip, but one of the cops shoved her lightly aside.
Coach was on his feet, voice booming. “What the hell is this? Do you know who he is?”
“Landon! Are you serious? You can’t—” Grayson’s words cut off as he, Mason, and half the bar rushed forward.
“Where’s your warrant? You can’t take him without a—” Mason tried, hands flailing.
“Enough!” one cop barked, shoving back anyone who got too close.
I glanced at Nicole. Her eyes were wide and frantic, cheeks flushed with shock and raw fear. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came.
“Landon Cross, you’re under arrest for aggravated assault and grievous bodily harm on James Perot,” one officer said, his tone clinical, detached. “You have the right to remain silent…”
I blinked, his voice fading to a drone in the background. Nothing clicked.
I looked at Coach in a silent plea, and his hand landed on my shoulder.
“Sit tight, son. I’ll have my lawyer meet you at the station,” he said, calm in the middle of the storm.
Nicole’s fingers brushed mine one last time, desperate, and I held her gaze as they led me out. Every step felt unreal.
The room behind us dissolved into a mix of disbelief, shouting, and panic.
I stole one last look at her. She looked like she might break, and my chest twisted, but there was nothing I could do.