Page 190 of Cruel Steps

When Holden was drafted second overall to the Tennessee Flames, only four hours from Hayward.

Winning the choreography contest and spending a summer touring with a pop star.

And Colter graduating from veterinary school with honors.

They’d been life changing.

That didn’t mean the smaller ones hadn’t mattered. In some ways, they’d mattered more. They were the ones that got me through the hard days, and the years the three of us had been apart, there were plenty of those. They were more challenging than any of us had imagined. I missed them both so much that first year that I hadn’t thought I’d be able to finish out my senior year at Hayward.

But Holden and Colter were persistent and showed me the power of their love.

From the Magic eight-balls Colter sent me, to the comic strips Holden drew me, I never questioned their commitment. There were millions of good morning texts, late-night calls, and any stolen moment we could create. The small moments had become the heartbeat of our love, thrumming strongly between us.

Luckily, those days were behind us, and we’d gotten married the summer Colter graduated from veterinary school. We made our home in Tennessee, where Colter joined a veterinarian practice. And I—hold your breath—opened my own business. The guys had urged me to name it Badass, but I’d worried about the marketability.

Instead, I’d named it Art in Motion, or AIM for short. I mostly focused on dance, but I also freelanced editing projects. I loved books too much to ignore my degree, and after the harsh reality of the dance industry, I’d learned if it was my only focus it no longer held joy for me.

The rejection and criticism of too many other voices drowned out my own, making it impossible to create. That had been a difficult lesson to learn, and Holden had suggested I’d be his arm candy. But I needed something that was my own. So, I took on choreography jobs when I felt passionate about the project and edited books in between. Win, win.

The three of us had shared numerous moments together, and there were still so many more to come. Like tonight.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I chanted, rubbing my hands together in a praying position. My eyes were glued to the field, focusing completely on number seven.

“He’s got this,” Colter affirmed, rubbing my back.

For the first two years of Holden’s football career, he sat on the bench soaking in everything the veteran QB had to offer. After an injury that sidelined the veteran QB, Holden took over and had started ever since. He led the Flames to the playoffs last year and this year to the Super Bowl.

It was the last year of his rookie contract, and we all wanted to stay with the Flames. We’d built a home here, and the community had embraced us. But either way, the past two years had proven he was a quality quarterback and deserved a big contract wherever he went.

He just had to finish this game first; hopefully, with a win.

The ball was snapped, and I held my breath as Holden surveyed his players, the Breakers’ defense closing in on the pocket.

“Throw it,” I whispered, fear clawing up my throat at the image of him being flattened.

Almost as if Holden could hear my prayer, he found an opening and threw it to his wide receiver. Every Flames fan held their breath as Marquette pivoted and ran for the end-zone. The Flames hadn’t won a Super Bowl, so this moment was bigger than just Holden. Even if that felt like the biggest reason for me.

The clock counted down with each step he took toward the end zone. The Breaker’s defense drew nearer, three defenders hot on Marquette’s tail. Their fingers reached out, brushing his jersey, and he dove for the white line with his arms outstretched. The football crossed the threshold right as the defender hooked his arms around his legs. They fell to the ground, and their bodies bounced from the force. Time stood still, an eternity passing as we waited for the ref to throw his arms up.

“Touchdown is good! Touchdown is good! The Flames have done it. They’re the new Super Bowl Champions!”

“Yes! Yes!” I jumped up and down, throwing my arms around Colter’s neck. He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as we celebrated together.

“We have to get to the field,” I said, turning to look for Holden. He stared up into the stands, his eyes on me and Colter. He lifted two fingers to his mouth and kissed them, sending them to me.

“Go to him!” Hope said, breaking the stare-off I held with my husband. Rose, Dad, Hope, and Cody were all in our box. It felt right to share this moment with them—the family I’d been born to and the one I’d made.

Colter set me down and threaded his fingers through mine, leading me out of the box. We showed our badges at the elevator, and the attendant smiled, letting us down. “Tell your husband he played a good game. I hope he stays with the Flames.”

“Thanks. We do, too.”

The doors opened to reveal a million people between me and the field. My eyes widened, and I almost stayed in the elevator. Colter pulled me along, using his retired football skills to push people out of the way and make a path for us.

It took three more security checks before we were let onto the field. Colter dropped my hand and pushed me. “Go. I’ll meet you there.”

Grinning, I took off running—okay, jogging—across the football field. I ducked the media doing interviews, wove through the personnel, and dodged the team celebrating. Holden was talking to someone, but I didn’t care. The moment our eyes locked, I flung myself into his arms. He gripped me tight, his nose buried in my hair as he held me to him.

His body trembled beneath me, and I felt tears hit my neck. We clung to one another, the moment too surreal for words. When I felt another set of arms wrapped around me, I knew Colter had made it to us.

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