Page 1 of Game Day

1

NOVA

“MARRY ME, CLAY!”

The woman next to me in the arrivals lounge screams it loudly enough my ears ring.

For a girl who grew up in a trailer clutching a sketchpad, I love a crowd. Being part of a bigger whole—one where every person shares a common dream, breathes the same air is exhilarating.

That was what I expected when I drove here today: a few loyal, bleary-eyed fans camped out to receive the Denver Kodiaks basketball team at their early-morning arrival.

Instead, I’m wedged elbow to elbow with hundreds of crazed Kodashians clutching Starbucks and phones and posters at the airport.

This is less Ted Lasso and more Hunger Games.

I swallow a giggle. I’m going to laugh about this.

If I survive.

The glass doors from the arrivals area slide open with a whoosh, and the crowd waiting on this side bumps into one another like excited ping-pong balls.

"It's not them," the screamer’s friend says, nodding toward the cluster of tall guys in suits emerging.

Disappointment crashes over the lounge in a wave, manic faces falling with dejection.

The woman who had screamed her proposal lowers her matching sign.

The men are big, but they're not who everyone is here for.

The legends.

The champs.

It was supposed to be private knowledge when the team’s plane, which was delayed due to a storm, was landing after their preseason road trip, but every fan in town—possibly every adult in Colorado—is here to greet them.

I’m adjusting my plain, white ball cap, my pink hair tucked up under it, when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Brooke: You regretting this idea yet?

I lift my phone, elbows pressed to my sides by the crowd, and type back.

Nova: Ask me again if I get trampled in the next hour.

A yipping at my feet is followed by a French bulldog weaving between my legs until I'm tangled in his leash.

"Waffles! Don't make me regret bringing you," I murmur, adjusting my feet on either side of his body to protect him—and so I can scoop him up at a moment’s notice if things get messy.

His noises lower to a whimper, but he's still vibrating with excitement.

I know how he feels. I wanted to come today not only to bring the Frenchie, whom I've been dog-sitting for the week because his regular sitter was sick, back to Miles, but to greet Clay when he sets foot back in Denver.

Clayton Wade.

All star.

MVP.

As of three weeks ago, my fiancé.

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