Page 309 of By His Rule

The next three hours are a blur of screaming and shouting, of excitement, disappointment, and frustration.

It’s a good game. A really good game. But it also means that the Chiefs are behind just as much as they’re in front. It’s the epitome of a nailbiter.

Kieran is struggling. The rest of the fans in the stadium who are screaming for their beloved Chiefs might not notice, but we do.

A piece of his puzzle is missing, and while in the grand scheme of things it shouldn’t matter, it does.

As the clock counts down, the teams are tied. The home team are about make a play and the nerves about how this is going to end are ramping up.

“I can’t watch,” I say, turning around in favor of getting a drink, the pressure too much.

“Get back here,” Kian says, pulling me into his side and pressing a kiss to the patch of skin just above the neck of my jersey.

My skin erupts in goosebumps as a roar sounds out around us.

“Shit,” Kingston curses before Prince begins wailing. It’s like he knows.

“Come on,” I urge, glancing at the clock.

But it’s too late. The home team is already celebrating.

The final minute passes slower than any I’ve ever known before. Each second is more painful than the last.

Kieran’s Super Bowl hopes are over.

The final whistle sounds and everyone sags in defeat. The home team fans erupt with excitement as Chiefs fans’ hearts shatter across the country.

“They did good,” Tate says, but there’s nothing but sadness in her voice.

“He should be proud of himself,” I say despite the fact my heart hurts for him.

Watching Kieran stare up to the sky with his shoulders slumped in defeat is painful.

“You think you can hack this in the future?” Hendrix asks Wilder.

It takes him a couple of seconds to respond, and I know it’s because he’s feeling Kieran’s pain right alongside him.

“Can’t win them all,” Wilder mutters sadly.

“We’re celebrating tonight,” Kingston says loudly as he stands in the middle of the room with Prince in his arms. “Kieran has had a killer season, and he deserves to celebrate that. Next year, he’ll be back, and we’ll all watch him lift that trophy.”

“Hell yeah,” Wilder shouts as Kian wraps me up in his arms.

With smiles on our faces, we head out in search of the youngest Callahan brother to remind him just how awesome he is.

“He’ll be okay, you know,” I say as we make our way into our suite later that night.

It’s almost midnight, but I’m still buzzing from the excitement of the day.

Kian is too.

It doesn’t matter that we didn’t win; the adrenaline is still there.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just a bitter pill to swallow. Especially when he feels like it was his fault.”

I watch as Kian pulls open the sliding doors. It’s cool out, but I don’t argue.

There’s a swing seat under a small outdoor heater.

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