CHAPTER 24 #3
Matty didn’t smile back. His shoulders had gone rigid, eyes fixed on the table like he could burn a hole through the linen. His hand that wasn’t clenching his glass was still clamped around mine, fingers digging in just enough to sting.
I squeezed back, hard. Fury bloomed hot and protective in my chest, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I understood now why Matty had been dreading dinner.
The next course came and went in an awkward blur of silverware and forced conversation. Ronnie had, of course, ordered the most expensive thing on the menu—a tomahawk steak that could’ve fed a small village—and dug into it like he was making a point.
Alice tried to smooth the jagged edges of the table.
She smiled, too bright, and reached for a story.
“You know,” she began, “when Matty was little, he used to run around the backyard with a football that was bigger than his head. He’d trip over his own feet, but he’d never let go of that ball. Not once.”
Matty chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I had my priorities early.”
“Uh-huh,” Barrett piped up around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “And you also used to practice tackling the mailman.”
“Barrett,” Matty groaned, dropping his face into his hands.
Alice laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, it’s true. And sometimes he’d do it without a diaper.”
“Mom,” Matty said, dragging the word out in horror.
Lizzie dissolved into giggles. “You peed on the mailman!”
“I was two!” Matty protested, voice cracking. “And you weren’t even alive yet. So how would you know?”
“Mommy told me,” Lizzie retorted.
For a brief, flickering second, the whole table was smiling. The kind of laughter that felt almost normal…until the sound of a fork clinking against porcelain cut through it.
Ronnie’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So,” he said, leaning back against the booth, “have you thought any more about the offer?”
The warmth drained from Matty’s face in an instant.
I glanced between them. Offer?
Matty’s jaw flexed. “Can we not?” he said tightly. “My answer was already no.”
Ronnie raised a brow, unconcerned. “It’s a big opportunity, son. Things like this don’t come around twice.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that a few times now,” Matty snapped, his voice loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby tables. “And I said no the first time and the second time and the third time for a reason.”
Alice’s hand landed on her husband’s wrist, gentle but firm. “Ronnie,” she murmured, “not here.”
His dad leaned in, eyes bright. “Gatorade hasn’t called yet, have they? Neither has Puma. Or Yeti. Hell, not even Taco Bell has called. They’re throwing money at kids half your size. I read Parker Davis pulled in over a million last spring just off endorsements.”
Matty’s jaw ticked.
“And Jace?” his dad went on, as if he couldn’t see what he was doing to his son.
“He’s a wide receiver, not even the face of the team, and he’s pulling in NIL deals left and right.
Brand partnerships, commercials, interviews—hell, he’s on a damn billboard downtown.
This deal could be bigger than all of those. ”
Alice shifted uncomfortably, her smile brittle. “Ronnie—”
But he steamrolled right over her. “You’re an idiot if you turn this down. A fucking idiot, son. One bad hit, and it’s all gone, Matthew. You can’t waste the moment. Parker knows it. Jace knows it. Do you?”
“Enough,” Matty growled. “Weren’t you so excited about my last NIL deal just a week ago…when it meant I could send you money to fix your…what was that again…your water heater? Or was it your car?”
The mockery in his voice was unmistakable—controlled, deliberate, meant to sting. And it did. His father’s smile faltered, just for a second, before settling back into something colder.
His siblings were staring at the two of them with wide eyes, and Alice tried desperately to change the subject. “Ophelia, what’s your favorite book?”
Ronnie wasn’t finished, though. “Pretty girls like Ophelia don’t look twice at athletes unless there’s something in it for them. You going to risk losing her when you lose everything else?”
The insult cracked something inside me.
I remembered Matty’s warning again. Don’t let him get in your head.
But I wasn’t offended for myself. I was offended for him.
The ugly words hung in the air.
Matty shifted violently beside me. “I said that’s enough!” he snarled.
“You need to think about that,” Ronnie insisted.
I snapped.
“He’s second in receptions this season in a team full of superstars,” I bit out before I could soften my tone.
They all turned toward me.
“Eighty-seven yards per game on average. Eight touchdowns. Three two-point conversions. Highest catch rate in the conference.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my heart pounding faster with each one.
“Against Alabama? A hundred and twelve yards on their top corner. Against Florida? The game-winning two-point conversion. He’s already broken the school record for tight end receptions in a season—and it’s not even over yet. ”
But the numbers weren’t enough. Not for what I was trying to say.
“He volunteers at the youth center every week,” I went on, my voice shaking now. “He tutors freshman players. He visits the children’s hospital after practice. His GPA’s nearly perfect, and somehow he still makes time for everyone who needs him.”
I glanced at Matty, my throat tightening. “He’s not just a good player…he’s a good person. The best one I’ve ever known. I don’t think you understand how lucky people are just to know him.”
My chest ached, but I couldn’t stop. “And me…” I drew in a shaky breath. “I’m lucky just to be with him. Even if he lost it all tomorrow—football, school, everything—he’d still be the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. And I love him. With all my heart.”
My chest was heaving when I finished, and my fork was trembling slightly in my hand. The table had gone completely silent.
I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck. Too much. You said too much. You shouldn’t know almost any of that. You told him you loved him, you idiot.
I’d just peeled back the curtain on how deeply I watched him, how obsessively I memorized everything about him.
I’d ruined everything.
I couldn’t look at Matty’s face. Couldn’t bear to see whatever expression my words had left there. My pulse thundered in my ears, the silence stretching so long it became a living thing between us.
Then, suddenly, the booth shifted. Matty shoved back from the table, sliding out so fast his knee knocked against the edge.
“Well,” he said tightly, his voice strained in that way that meant he was seconds from snapping. “On that note, we’re gonna head out.”
“Matty—” his mom started, but he was already reaching into his pocket. He tossed a bunch of cash onto the table, the motion clipped and final. “For dinner,” he said. “Enjoy it.”
Before anyone could answer, his hand closed around mine, warm, solid, trembling just a little…and he tugged me after him.
I scrambled to follow as he pulled me out of the booth, nearly tripping over my heels. “Nice to meet you!” I called weakly over my shoulder, my voice cracking as we hurried past the startled hostess at the front.
He didn’t stop until the restaurant doors slammed behind us, the cold air biting against my skin.
“Matty—” I began, my voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to—”
“We’ll talk later,” he said, the words controlled and even. Too controlled.
He didn’t look at me as we crossed the cobblestone walkway toward the valet stand, his hand still gripping mine but his knuckles white, his shoulders rigid beneath his jacket. Every line of him screamed tension.
The valet scrambled to bring the car around, clearly picking up on the storm in his expression.
I stood there uselessly beside him, hugging my arms to my chest, the night air biting through my dress. My throat ached, every heartbeat pounding against the memory of my voice inside that booth.
The things I’d said. The way everyone had stared.
He knew now—knew I was too much, too intense, too strange. That I didn’t know how to love someone without coming apart in the process.
When the car finally pulled up, Matty thanked the valet, handed him a bill, and opened my door without meeting my eyes.
I slid in silently, my pulse still thudding with shame.
By the time he got behind the wheel, the quiet between us felt unbearable. But he didn’t say a word.
And I sat there, staring at my hands, certain I’d just destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to me.