Chapter 15 Sawyer
FIFTEEN
Sawyer
“Hell of a game, boys,” Coach called out once we were back in the locker room.
A chorus of cheers and fist bumps broke out as I stripped off my pads and tossed them into my locker. My jersey hit the bench in a sweaty heap. After a few post-game interviews, I was grateful to finally be done and on my way out of there.
“Nice touchdown, James,” Bronx said, slapping my shoulder on his way to the showers. “Didn’t know you had little ballerina feet under all that bulk.”
I grinned. “Don’t get jealous just ‘cause I’m pretty.”
He snorted. “Hey, defense held the line. We made that win possible.”
“Team effort,” I said, and I meant it.
“Yo, what about me?” West piped up from across the room, already halfway out of his pads. “Golden boy needs some love too.”
“You’re lucky I caught that fumble, man.” I pointed at him and smirked. “Having a live ball. Let me get that touchdown too.”
“I gave you a Christmas gift early.” He grinned, smug as hell. “You’re welcome.”
I laughed, shook my head, and grabbed a towel. “Appreciate the assist, sweetheart.”
Talking shit with these guys was second nature, but underneath it, my pulse hadn’t slowed since the second I saw her pretty face on the big screen.
She was all lit up and radiant, wearing my jersey like it belonged on her. I think it did. My heart damn near tripped over itself. When I found her up in that suite—smiling, eyes locked on me as if I was the main event instead of just the guy who caught a lucky break?
Forget the touchdown. That was the best part of my night.
I rushed through my shower faster than ever, scrubbing off the game sweat like a man with a mission.
I needed to see her and for her to know that touchdown wasn’t just for the fans, the score, or even the highlight reel.
It was for her.
I stepped back into the locker room, tugging my hoodie over my head, still drying my hair.
West raised a brow. “You heading out already?”
“Yup.”
He grinned. “That girl got you sprinting to her, huh?”
“Sure does,” I said without missing a beat.
He clapped a hand on my back. “Go get your girl.”
My girl.
I broke into a full-blown grin I didn’t even try to hide. “That’s the plan.”
I didn’t know if she’d still be here or what I was going to say if she was, but I knew one thing for sure.
If she was waiting, I was running.
Just as I hit the tunnel, Coach’s voice cut through the post-game noise. “James. Got a sec?”
I hesitated. My hand was already pushing the door open. “Uh…yeah. Of course.”
He nodded toward his office with a tight smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick. Gotta get you back to Ellie, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, trying not to bounce on my heels.
He stepped inside, leaving the door open, and I followed. The office still smelled like turf and sweat, the way it always did after a win.
“Hell of a game tonight.” He leaned against his desk. “That fumble recovery? Great job.”
“Thank you. Right place, right time.”
He gave me a look. “That wasn’t luck, James. That was you seeing the play before it happened. Don’t downplay it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Still sure you want to hang up your helmet after this season? We’d love to keep you on.”
“I’m sure. It’s time for me to settle down.”
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I understand.
We will be losing a hell of a player, but you deserve it.
” He crossed his arms, tone shifting slightly.
“Gotta say…whatever this thing is between you and Ellie, it’s been good for the team.
The press can’t stop talking about it. Whether it’s real or not, I don’t care. Good job.”
He gave me a knowing smirk, and I tried not to flinch.
“Yeah, appreciate that, Coach,” I said carefully.
“Keep your head straight. Don’t let it mess with your focus. You’ve always been the guy I could count on to do his job and keep the locker room solid. That matters more than the media.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t let it get to me.”
He gave me a nod like that was the right answer. “Good. Now, go. I know you’re waiting to see her.”
I didn’t even try to deny it. Yeah, he was right.
The game was over, but my heart was still in the stands—or wherever the hell she was.