CHAPTER 34
MATTY
The wind stung like needles as I lined up for another drill, the December air cutting through my jersey and settling deep in my bones.
The Tennessee cold wasn’t supposed to hit this hard when you had an indoor facility, but Coach was on a “mental toughness” crusade and refused to let us practice indoors.
“Playoffs aren’t played in a dome,” he’d said, which was rich coming from a man in three jackets and a heated hat.
By the time he finally blew the whistle for a water break, my fingers were numb inside my gloves. I yanked off my helmet and trudged to the sideline where Jace was crouched near the bench, grinning like he didn’t even feel the cold.
“I’m still shocked you actually cleaned my room,” I said, shaking my head. “After the…you know.”
Jace blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “You mean after Riley’s heroic exorcism with a fire extinguisher to get rid of Emma?”
I glanced around, suddenly panicked. “Don’t say her name out loud!”
“She’s not actually a demon,” Parker said as he jumped up and down a few times to try to warm himself up.
“Says the man who didn’t wake up with her in his room in the middle of the night,” I griped.
“You were giving me compliments,” Jace reminded me, helpfully steering us back on track.
“Yes. I was thanking you for getting my room cleaned up so it was easy to move Ophelia in,” I said.
Jace’s grin was cocky. “Of course I cleaned. You think I’d leave your crime scene-looking room like that? I’m a good friend. The best friend.” He pointed a thumb at Parker. “Way better than QB1 over there.”
Parker was now jogging in place, and he snorted, bumping Jace with his shoulder. “Yeah, the best friend who hired a cleaning service. Don’t let him milk it too much, Adler. He didn’t even take out the trash himself.”
Jace threw his hands up. “Excuse me, I supervised! That’s emotional labor!”
“Yeah, I’m sure yelling ‘get the demon residue off the posters’ was real taxing,” Parker said.
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head as I tipped my bottle back for a drink.
“I’ll give you some friendship points for getting my room cleaned regardless of how it happened,” I said, “but you only get a few. You scared away the home security company this morning by answering the door naked. And we really need those cameras and alarms. There’ve been way too many people entering our house uninvited lately. ”
I shivered again, picturing Emma touching my things. And talking. And being in my presence at all.
Parker barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his water.
Jace turned, eyes wide with mock outrage.
“Okay, first of all, I didn’t know we were having company.
That might have been a good thing to warn me about.
Second, I was coming from the shower, so it was nice of me to answer the door at all.
Third—” He paused, gesturing dramatically.
“Did I intend to drop the towel? No. Did it happen? Almost no.”
Parker snorted. “Those men were probably traumatized for life.”
Jace nodded. “It would have been better for Matty to have done it. That extra inch was probably terrifying for them.”
I was about to open my mouth to object, but then I glanced over at the parking lot…out of habit, and I forgot all about Jace’s supposed larger dick.
A familiar white car was back in its spot.
A slow pulse started in my chest, something between relief and possession.
She was here.
Ophelia was watching again, just like she always did before. Only now, she didn’t have to hide it. I’d told her she could. I’d told her I wanted her to.
She’d gladly taken me at my word.
“Why are you smiling like that? It’s creepy,” Parker said, before following my line of sight and squinting toward the lot. “That her?” he asked under his breath.
“Yeah,” I said, still staring.
He gave a low whistle, then cocked his head. “I wonder if I can get Casey to sit out there with her,” he mused. “I always play better when she’s watching.”
Jace popped up beside us, helmet tucked under his arm, his eyes bright with mischief.
“If we’re starting a spectator club, count Riley and Natalie in, too,” he said.
“They can get their girl time out there in the car—bond over snacks, matching blankets, whatever—and then Riley will have no reason not to spend all her free time with me afterward.”
Parker barked out a laugh and then nodded. “That’s actually a really good idea.”
“I know. It’s my big brain,” Jace said. “It can be quality time for them and uninterrupted worship for us. Everybody wins.”
As I turned back toward the field, my gaze caught on Garrett’s across the line.
He was standing near the watercoolers, towel slung around his neck, following my line of sight out to the parking lot. His expression shifted—recognition, guilt, maybe both—and our eyes met.
I dragged my thumb slowly across my throat.
His brows shot up. Then he let out a snort, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe me. A second later, he lifted one hand and gave me a lazy thumbs-up.
I nodded at him. Garrett and I were buddies…just as long as he didn’t forget.
When practice finally ended, the sky had already shifted to that washed-out winter gray, the kind that looked like it couldn’t decide between rain or snow. My breath came out in clouds as I jogged off the field, helmet under my arm, cleats crunching over the frost-stiff grass.
Her car was still there, and I didn’t hesitate.
Ophelia’s head was down, eyes fixed on her phone. Her mouth was slightly open, pink from the cold, a little smile curving there like she was seeing something she shouldn’t love as much as she did.
When I got close enough, I realized what it was—an interview I’d done yesterday after practice. My voice came faintly through the cracked window, talking about playoffs, team chemistry, or whatever generic thing I’d said to keep the press happy.
I rapped my knuckles lightly against the glass.
She jumped, letting out a tiny squeak that hit me right in the chest. Her phone slipped, and she scrambled to pause the video as her wide eyes found mine.
I grinned, already reaching for the door handle.
“Hi, pretty baby,” I said softly, pulling the door open before she could decide whether to hide or breathe.
“Matty,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing pinker than from the cold.
I didn’t wait for her to climb out. I just reached in, caught her by the waist, and tugged her against me until she was standing between my legs, pressed close enough to feel my heartbeat under her hands.
“I missed you,” she murmured in a muffled voice against my chest.
I bent, kissing the top of her head. “You’ve been watching me this whole time.”
“I’ve realized it’s not the same,” she said, looking up at me, her eyes glassy and unguarded.
My mouth curved. “No,” I said softly. “It’s not.”
We stayed like that, her breath warm against my throat, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. For a second, the world went quiet. Just the two of us and the faint hum of traffic out on the street.
“Matty!”
I turned, jaw tightening automatically, but it was just Rachel—the team’s media relations head—waving from across the lot, clipboard tucked under one arm. She had a serious look on her face.
“Hey, Adler!” she called. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
“Just a minute!” I called back, forcing a polite smile.
Ophelia’s fingers tightened in my jacket.
I brushed my thumb over her cheek, tilting her chin up until she met my eyes again. “Want to meet me at home?” I asked, my voice dropping, the word home sinking between us.
Her flush deepened, remembering what that meant now. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Good girl.”
I kissed her then…slow, deep, and shameless right there in the parking lot, until her breath caught and I could taste the promise of later on her lips.
When I finally pulled back, she looked wrecked in the best way.
“Go home,” I murmured against her mouth. “I’ll be right behind you.”
I watched her go, an ache in my chest because I was as addicted to her presence as she was to mine. The taillights of her car glowed against the frost, fading into the gray afternoon as she turned out of the lot. Only when she was gone did I let out the breath I’d been holding.
When I turned back, Rachel was standing by the entrance with her clipboard and her I’ve waited long enough for this expression.
“Took you long enough,” she said, arching a brow. “I did say it was important.”
“Sorry,” I said, and I didn’t bother to make it sound convincing.
She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
We headed toward the main building, the wind cutting down the breezeway. My cleats clicked against the concrete, echoing up the stairwell as we climbed to the second floor, where the conference rooms were lined with glass walls and too-bright lights hung from above.
Rachel’s tone had gone clipped—professional in that way that always meant something was off.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but the unease crept in anyway.
“What’s going on,” she said, pushing open the door to one of the meeting rooms, “is that we have a very big donor who’s been waiting to talk to you.”
I frowned. “A donor?”
She nodded toward the open doorway. “He requested you personally.”
My stomach sank before I even stepped inside.
It was Kenton.
The same slick smile. The same expensive suit. The same faint smell of smoke and cologne that had clung to him at that dinner with my dad—the one where he’d leaned back in his chair and told me he had a network of people who’d pay for the right information.
He was sitting at the long table, legs crossed, phone in one hand, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in the other, like he owned the place.
“Matthew,” he said smoothly, rising to his feet with a practiced grin. “Good to see you, son.”
Rachel was already backing out of the room. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
The door shut behind her.
“Water?” he asked as he poured a glass from a crystal carafe.