Chapter 42 Ellie
FORTY-TWO
Ellie
Sawyer’s entire family had packed into the front-row sideline section all decked out in Rebels gear.
It was loud and slightly freezing, but it was perfect. I wasn’t entirely sure if I could full-send a relationship with Sawyer, but I was warming up to the idea of trying.
The game started off with the opposing team scoring first. The Rebels tied it up on a clean throw from West on the next turnover. The score went back and forth from there. In the second quarter, they pulled ahead by three points with a field goal. The others were glued to the scoreboard, but…
I was too focused on Sawyer.
The way he moved on the field, head down, laser-focused, in constant communication with his teammates. It was clear why he was here—why he was a starter. He didn’t just know the game. He was part of it.
Even with all the noise and bodies packed around me, he was the only thing I saw.
The air had turned colder after halftime.
January in San Francisco wasn’t snow-level cold, but it was enough to make me tuck my hands beneath my thighs to keep them warm.
I watched him jog out with his helmet tucked under one arm.
He looked up once and smiled at me, and I gave him a little wink before he ran back out for the next play.
Dotty leaned in, bumping my shoulder with hers. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” I gave her a quick smile, but my eyes never left the field.
“You sure?” She gave me a once-over. “You’ve barely said a word.”
“I’m just taking it all in.”
“You mean you’re swooning all over him.”
I bit back a smile. “I am not.”
“You are,” Gracie chirped. “You got all wobbly when Uncle Sawyer looked over here!”
“He plays better when you’re in the crowd, you know,” Dotty said.
I scoffed. “You’re just saying that.”
She squinted, like she was trying to decide if I was clinically insane. “Last time you were at a game, he got a touchdown.”
“And the time before that, he got a concussion.”
She shrugged. “Eh, doesn’t count.”
A whistle blew, and her head snapped back to the field.
“Third and long,” Dorian said.
The section fell silent as the crowd dialed entirely to the game.
Trent leaned forward. “He’s gonna take that poor guy for a ride.”
I followed to where everyone else was looking.
Sawyer crouched low on the line, his fingers brushing the turf, that massive frame waiting.
He rolled his shoulders and dropped into position.
I tried not to catalogue how good he looked doing literally anything, but my brain was a traitor with a damn zoom function solely focused on him.
The ball snapped, and everything happened fast.
Sawyer surged forward with so much force, I gasped. The guy across from him met him head-on. It lasted half a second, maybe less. Then, he was driven backward like he weighed nothing at all. I stood without thinking as everyone else did the same.
Sawyer didn’t stop. He kept going, cleared the lane like he’d planned the whole thing two plays ago. The ball was gone before I even realized it left West’s hands.
A clean pass. A clean catch.
Touchdown.
The stadium lost its mind.
Gracie shrieked, her glitter sign shaking in the air. Trent jumped up, yelling something unintelligible. David didn’t move, but there was a quiet sort of pride in the way he nodded.
Sawyer pulled off his helmet, a victorious grin already spreading across his face, and suddenly, he was moving. Not walking, not jogging—running straight toward me as if I were the only person in that packed stadium.
“Is he—?” I started but couldn't finish the thought.
Dotty whooped. “Oh yeah, he’s coming for you.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“He absolutely would.”
And he did, right over the barrier as if it were nothing, as if the crowd and cameras and security had ceased to exist. Still breathing hard from the game, hair damp with sweat, he stopped directly in front of me with an expression that made my heart stutter.
His hands found my face before I could process anything, and when he kissed me, the rest of the world dissolved.
The cheering crowd, the blazing lights, the thundering music—all of it melted away until nothing remained but us and this overwhelming feeling that rewrote everything I thought I knew about wanting someone.
“Had to celebrate with my girl,” he said with a wink.
He pressed his forehead to mine and then gave it a quick kiss before hopping down, not acknowledging his family other than a quick wave as he jogged backward.
Dotty let out a breath like she’d been holding it the whole time. “Okay. So that happened.”
“That happened,” Gracie shouted with her sign, now completely upside down. “He kissed her!”
I dropped into my seat before my knees decided to do it for me. Everything inside me was scrambled—my pulse, my brain, my entire sense of reality.
Colt didn’t say a word, but I felt him watching me.
The rest of the game played out in pieces. I clapped when they clapped, stood when everyone else did, but my eyes stayed locked on Sawyer.
The Rebels had a six-point lead after a late field goal in the fourth, but the other team had possession and thirty yards to the end zone. Enough time to ruin everything.
There was another down, another huddle. I mouthed numbers along with the play clock, hoping I could hex the other team.
Snap.
The pass never left the quarterback’s hand when he was sacked. At least, that’s what Dotty told me happened.
Clock: 0:05.
The stadium erupted with noise. Only five seconds, and the other team had no time-outs. Victory was practically printed and laminated. Still, I didn’t exhale until the scoreboard’s last red digit flipped to zero.
Final. Rebels 27, Wildcats 24.
The buzzer went off and helmets flew, bodies collided in celebration, and somewhere in the madness, #71 tore off toward the sideline, searching.
For me.
We’d won. He’d won. And judging by the way his smile bulldozed every rational thought in my head, I was about to too.
Sawyer spotted me and broke into a sprint, cutting through the sidelines like nothing else mattered. I barely had time to react before his arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me clear off the ground.
“Ellie, baby.” His voice was low as he placed me back down.
Before I could answer, his family started shouting and laughing, pulling him away in a mix of congratulations and back slaps.
I stepped to the side, trying to catch my breath. Sawyer gave me a little smile, then started talking to everyone.
I stepped back, letting the noise pass over me and giving Sawyer a moment. Colt approached me a few seconds later.
“Ellie,” he greeted.
“Hey.”
He didn’t look at me right away. His gaze stayed on Sawyer, who was grinning as he said something to Dorian and Trent, completely wrapped up in the moment. The joy radiated off him, his brother standing next to me with his normal unreadable look.
“I don’t really know you,” Colt said finally. “But I know him. Better than anyone.”
I said nothing.
“He’s given up more than most people realize. For football, for this team, for our family. You’re the first thing I’ve seen that makes him light up like this.”
He didn’t sound mad or even emotional. Just factual, like he was laying down the truth and leaving it there.
“But if you’re not all in, you need to let him go.” He glanced at me. “You’ve got your own world. Big stage. Big future. And that’s fine, but if he’s not a part of that future, don’t keep him hoping. Because he will.”
I still didn’t answer.
He gave a small nod, as if that was all he came to say, before he disappeared into the crowd.
I stood there for a while, eyes back on Sawyer. He hadn’t stopped smiling, and I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do with any of it anymore.