late winner
DAYLIGHT BY TAYLOR SWIFT
I don’t know if I’ve ever laughed this much at a team function in my life. Sebastian’s halfway through a story about a red card he received earlier this season that he swears was “complete bullshit,” but Carlos is heckling him from across the table like we’re at an open mic night.
And me? I’m smiling. Genuinely smiling. It’s not forced or polite. It’s not the kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes as you half-listen to a story. It’s just easy. Real.
I haven’t told Addison how I feel yet. I don’t even know if she’s coming tonight. For all I know, she’s at her flat in sweatpants, packing her life into suitcases. I’m not going to let her walk away without hearing the truth, but I also know she’s not the only person I need to open myself up to.
Tonight I showed up for my team, and if she walks in too, I’m going to do the same for her.
“What’s going on with you, Captain?” Sebastian says, grinning. “You going soft?”
“What?” I ask, pretending not to understand.
Carlos laughs. “He smiles now. It’s weird.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smirk tugging at my mouth. “Thanks, lads.”
Brennan smiles. “Nah, mate. It’s good. You’re just… lighter.”
I open my mouth to reply when Brennan glances toward the door, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, well,” he murmurs. “Look who just walked in.”
I follow his line of sight, and time just stops.
She’s here. Standing in the entrance of the ballroom, bathed under the soft glow of the chandelier.
Her blue dress clings to her body like it was made for her.
Even from this far back, I can see the necklace I gave her around her neck, sparkling faintly against her collarbone.
She’s smiling, not politely, but confidently, like a weight has been lifted from her spine.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m so completely, stupidly in love with her.
I take a step forward, ready to close the distance between us and say everything I’ve been wanting to say for weeks, but before I can, Alan materializes beside her.
He leans in and whispers something that makes Addison smile and nod.
They drift into a corner for a private conversation, leaving me frozen again, aching for my moment to tell her I’m in love with her.
That I want her to stay here, with me. That I don’t want to live a single day without her.
After what feels like ages, Alan moves on from the conversation, and I take a step forward. This is it. My chance.
Before I can so much as breathe her name, someone from the stage picks up a microphone. “If you could all take your seats, we’ll be kicking off the awards!”
Fuck. Of course.
I glance toward Addison again, but she’s already taken a seat next to Alan at a table up front.
Matt sulks at a table across the room, surrounded by his American documentary crew.
For once, he doesn’t bother trying to sit near Addison.
He doesn’t slide uninvited into conversations.
It surprises me. I figured this event would be his self-declared victory lap.
Somehow, all our success this year would be because of him, despite never setting foot on the pitch.
I half expect him to stroll up on stage and pull a Kanye during the speeches as awards are announced.
Instead, he’s just sitting there, rotting in his own ego pit and looking miserable.
And I fucking love it.
Brennan claps a hand on my back, nodding toward the table where Carlos and Sebastian are already seated. “Come on, lover boy. You can pine from your seat.”
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded. Brennan just winks at me, like he’s always known.
I huff out a laugh and follow him, sliding into a chair between him and Carlos as the lights dim.
The first few awards are standard—best young player, community champion, that sort of thing.
The lads are rowdy tonight. Half the speeches are jokes, and it’s the most relaxed I’ve seen us in months.
It feels good going into the final game of the season—the most important game many of us will ever play—with this kind of positive, comfortable atmosphere.
Eventually, we reach the final two awards of the season—Goal of the Year and Player of the Season.
“And the winner of Goal of the Year goes to Sebastian Leroux!” the emcee shouts excitedly, to the surprise of no one. The room erupts as Sebastian leaps to his feet like he’s just won an Oscar or the Ballon d’Or. He blows a playful kiss to Carlos and accepts the trophy like he’s just been knighted.
He steps up to the microphone, tapping it like he’s testing the sound system. He launches into typical Sebastian theatrics, declaring himself “magnifique” for scoring so many “fantastique” goals.
I’m still laughing at Sebastian dancing his way offstage when the next award is announced.
“Alright,” the emcee says, voice booming. “We’ve saved the biggest one for last. This is your Rockford FC Player of the Season, voted on by your teammates, the staff, and the fans.”
I lean back in my seat and casually sip my drink. Sebastian shouldn’t have even bothered leaving the stage. In my head, it’s either him, or Harry—who’s been a brick wall in goal. Sebastian’s ego will triple in size if he wins, but he deserves it.
“And your Player of the Season is… Oliver Bradshaw!”
What?
I freeze.
For a second, I think maybe I misheard, but then Brennan shouts beside me. “Oi! Get up there, mate!”
Carlos slaps my back, so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of me.
Even Sebastian is grinning, clapping as he points to the stage.
I stand slowly, my heart thudding in my chest. I feel every eye in the room on me, and for once, it doesn’t make me panic or want to disappear. I just want to find her. I walk up the steps of the stage, still trying to wrap my head around this.
As I reach the podium, Gaffer hands me the trophy.
“Well done, lad,” he whispers in my ear as he shakes my hand.
My heart and mind are racing as I approach the podium, knowing I have to make a speech.
The applause continues, and my brain tells me to keep the speech short. But then I lock eyes with her, and I know: this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is the time to say something real.
“This is mad,” I say, staring down at the trophy in disbelief. I look out across the room at my teammates, the staff, the coaches, even the physios who put us back together every week. I think about the fans, who’ve somehow become part of my heartbeat. I think about everyone who isn’t here.
“I know I’m not one for words, or speeches, or talking at all really, but I want to say a few things,” I start, voice rough but steady.
“Winning this is truly overwhelming, and trust me, I don’t take it lightly.
There’s so much talent in this room and on this squad.
I know how many of you put your heart into this club every single day. ”
I glance at Sebastian, who’s holding his Goal of the Year trophy like it’s a newborn baby. “Seb, mate, I was positive this was yours. Every goal you score is better than the last, but that goal was…” I shake my head. “Ridiculous.”
“Fantastique,” he corrects me, grinning as he kisses the trophy.
My voice falters just a little. “I’ve always struggled with letting people in.
I’ve always believed I have to handle everything on my own.
But being part of this team, this… family…
it’s taught me that I don’t have to. There’s more strength in letting people care about you than shouldering it all yourself. ”
“Thank you to Gaffer and Stan for trusting me with the armband. I wear it every match with pride. Thank you for pushing me to grow into more than just a player, but a leader, and someone I’m proud to be.
I want to thank every one of the lads. To wear the red and blue of Rockford FC and fight for promotion with you—it means more than I can say.
You don’t just make my job as captain easy—you make it an honor. ”
I take a deep breath as my throat tightens.
“She’s not here… but I also want to thank my mum,” I say, eyes stinging.
“I wouldn’t be here without the sacrifices she made, the example she set.
She never just supported the dream of me playing.
She made sure I understood what it meant.
” I glance down at the podium for a second, collecting myself.
“She used to tell me that being a footballer isn’t just about what you do on a Saturday afternoon.
It’s about how you carry yourself the rest of the week.
How you show up for a community that shows up for you.
She taught me that you don’t just play for yourself.
You play for the lads next to you, for the staff, and for the people in the stands who save up all week just to be there.
And you try—every day—to be worthy of that. ”
I let that sit for a moment, my grip tightening slightly on the edge of the podium.
“Everything I am, as a footballer and as a person, I owe to her.”
I pause, staring down at the podium before exhaling. “And my brother, Henry.”
The room stills in a way I can feel more than hear.
I swallow, nodding once like I’m steadying myself.
“We lost him years ago,” I continue, voice quieter now, “but not a day goes by when I don’t think of him.
” I let out a small breath that almost becomes a laugh.
“I used to think that if I didn’t talk about him, if I kept him tucked away somewhere private, then it would hurt less.
Like silence would somehow make it easier to carry. ”
I glance up briefly, scanning the room, then back down.
“But the truth is… it didn’t protect me. It just made it feel like I was carrying him alone.”
My throat tightens, but I push through it anyway.