Chapter 50 The Man
The Man
Ali
Not since the bowl game that ended everything. The night that split her open and swallowed her whole.
But now…she was here.
Not in the same stadium. Not the same team. Not the same girl.
The Tritons’ arena was a different beast entirely—modern, towering, built like a monument to speed and spectacle.
The buzz of energy was palpable even in the early part of the day, with fans already lining up at vendor carts and tailgating in the lots.
Navy and teal flags snapped in the breeze, the team logo shining from giant LED screens.
And the moment she stepped through the VIP entrance, her breath caught in her throat.
It hit her all at once.
The green of the field. The roar of distant cheers. The towering walls of the stadium seats that felt like they could swallow her if she let them.
Her fingers clenched a little tighter around her clear Stoney Clover crossbody bag, knuckles pale.
Ashley bumped her gently with her hip. “You okay?”
Ali nodded before she spoke. “Yeah. Just...it’s been a long time.”
Ashley’s expression softened and she linked her arm through Ali’s as they walked together toward the suite level. “I know. But this time? It’s different. This isn’t the past.”
Ali’s smile was tentative, but it grew.
She smoothed the skirt of her navy and teal dress—one Ashley had found online from a boutique that screamed “soft game day glam” in the product description. It cinched her waist and fluttered just enough to make her feel pretty. Confident, even.
And the shoes? A pair of barely-worn, six-inch sandals she’d borrowed—stolen—from Abigail.
She had confessed the whole “wall” moment to her, flushed and breathless in her office. Abigail had smiled and told her that keeping the heels was non-negotiable.
“Claim your wins,” she’d said, “even if they start with a pair of shoes.”
Now she was wearing those shoes in a stadium she never thought she’d walk into. Not as someone’s secret. Not as a half-healed wound. As his.
The suite was glass-walled and wide open, with plush seating and a panoramic view of the field. Everything gleamed—sleek and high-end, just like everything else in Dylan’s world now.
But the first thing Ali noticed wasn’t the view or the rows of catered food.
It was Dylan’s mom.
“Ali!” Carolina McKenzie stood up with a smile that reached her warm hazel eyes, arms already open.
Ali’s breath hitched as she stepped forward. It had been ten years since they’d last seen each other. But Carolina wrapped her in a hug like no time had passed at all.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” Ali managed, hugging her back. Her voice caught, so she blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. “So do you.”
Dylan’s dad gave her a gentler, quieter smile and a firm but affectionate side hug. “Glad you’re here, Ali.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
Then she saw her.
Kallie.
The tall, striking brunette was standing by the windows, a drink in hand and sunglasses perched atop her head.
And when she turned, her signature smirk curved—not smug, but knowing.
Like she remembered everything from the fundraiser too.
Including the moment Ali had bolted like Cinderella without the grace.
Ali flushed instantly, heat rushing to her cheeks.
But Kallie didn’t tease. Didn’t so much as raise a brow. She just walked forward like they were old friends.
“Ali,” she said smoothly, her voice warm and confident. “Glad you made it.” Then, with a playful grin, “We’ve upgraded a lot since that fundraiser.”
Ali laughed, tension breaking in her chest. “I guess so.”
Kallie leaned in and dropped her voice just enough to make Ali feel like she was in on something. “Don’t worry. No awkward mentions of wall-related departures. Ancient history.”
Ali snorted before she could stop herself. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Come meet the others—there are a few friends of the team in here today. Players’ families, a couple of board members.” She looped her arm through Ali’s like they were already on the same page. “Let’s make you look like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”
Behind them, Ashley mouthed Oh my god I love her.
Ali grinned.
Maybe she was still a little nervous. But with Dylan on the field, his people in her corner, and her girls at her back—she didn’t feel small anymore. She felt ready.
Ali sank into one of the padded armchairs, crossing her legs and letting the cool blast of air conditioning wash over her. The stadium was buzzing below, a blur of teal and navy and flashing lights, but up here in the suite, everything felt surreal. Private. Luxurious.
Raleigh Ann plopped down beside her with a plate full of sliders and nachos. “Okay, I need to marry a football player immediately. Why didn’t you tell me it was like this?”
Abigail leaned over the bar, sipping a club soda like it was champagne. “I feel like we’re in an episode of Real Housewives: Tritons Edition.” She looked at Abigail. “You brought your big sunglasses, right?”
“Obviously,” Abigail said, adjusting her oversized frames dramatically. “We came to slay and stay hydrated.”
Ali laughed, sinking a little deeper into the chair. She kicked off her sandals—Abigail’s beloved donation to the cause—and curled her legs beneath her. “This feels fake.”
“It’s not,” Abigail said with a nudge. “This is your life now, remember? The tight end’s girlfriend. Or kicking guy. Or whatever position Dylan plays. Sports aren’t really my thing. I only know what a tight end is because of Taylor Swift and TMZ”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “He’s the quarterback, Ab.”
“Well, he’s clearly winning.”
They all dissolved into giggles again, drawing a fond glance from Kallie, who was chatting with Dylan’s parents near the buffet.
Ali leaned her chin on her fist, watching the field as the pre-game graphics lit up the jumbotron. Her chest tightened—not with anxiety this time, but with something warmer. Hope.
She was here. With her people. Watching her person. And for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like the past was waiting to ambush her. It just felt like the beginning of something new.