Page 99 of The Love You Win

They lost. I shouldn’t do it, I know I shouldn’t, but I click on the comments of one of the team’s social media posts from tonight’s game. Some of them are encouraging—telling the guys that it was only the first game of the season and they’ll play better in game two—but most post asshole-ish diatribes and express their disappointment. As if every player on the Rogues isn’t disappointed too. I may not know all of them super well, but I’m familiar enough with the team to recognize that they’re their own harshest critics.

And then there are the comments about me. I knew there’d be some. Mira and I texted throughout the whole game. At the end, she commanded me not to read the comments. But I’m a glutton for punishment. And the things people are saying are nasty.

When a knock on my apartment door startles me out of my stupor, I’m grateful. My heart is pounding in my chest and I’ve broken out in a cold sweat. On shaky legs, I head to the door to let Maddox in. I hated saying no when he asked me to go to the game, but it felt like too much without Mira after the last time. He said he understood, but I know he was disappointed. Our compromise was that he’d come spend the night afterward.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says when I swing the door open. He looks tired and frustrated. Stress lines his forehead and jaw. But when he smiles at me, all of that melts away.

In two steps, Maddox is in my apartment. He drops his overnight bag on the floor. In two more, he wraps his arms around me, shuts the door with his foot, and lifts me off the ground. A squeak leaves my lips when he squeezes me tightly and presses his face in the crook of my neck.

“God, you smell good.”

Some of my anxiety bleeds away. He’s here. He’s not mad at me. Maddox doesn’t blame me for the team’s loss like those randos on the internet. “So do you. Like soap and that spicy shampoo you use.”

He chuckles against my neck. “You like that?”

“Mmhmm.”

We stay like that for another few seconds. Maddox doesn’t let me go, and I don’t release him. I needed this. I didn’t realize how much. A part of me has been worried that Maddox will come to the same conclusion Alex did. That I’m not good enough for him. And with thousands of strangers telling him just that online, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But he’s here. He’s holding me like he doesn’t want to let me go. That has to count for something.

“I’m sorry about the game,” I tell him as he lets my body slide down his. With my feet on the floor, I look up at my boyfriend and study him. He looks tired.

“It’s just a game.” Maddox shrugs. He turns around to flip the locks on my door. “There’ll be more. We won’t let it define our whole season.”

“Still, I’m sure it was disappointing to lose.”

He brushes his knuckles softly over my cheek. “It always is. But losing’s part of life, right?”

“Right.” When Maddox drops his hand, I take it in my own. “You hungry?”

“I grabbed something on the way over. It’s late, and I didn’t want you to feel you had to stay up making me something.”

“I wouldn’t have minded. Can I get you some water at least? Some tea?”

“Water would be great, Short-Stack. Thank you.”

He follows me into the kitchen. We’re both silent as I fill two glasses with ice and water. We stare at each other as we drink. I hate seeing Maddox discouraged. I want to put that light I love so much back in his eyes. And, after a strange week with less contact and time together than normal, I want to connect with my boyfriend.

Holding out my hand, I give him a soft smile. “Come on, Ogre. Let’s go cheer you up.”

Maddox’s eyebrows rise. “Cheer me up, huh?”

I nod.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

He chuckles, drops his palm in mine, and lets me lead him down the hall to my bedroom. He takes in the space and my waiting bed with a soft smile. Until his attention falls to my open laptop and the comments I’d been reading beneath an action shot of him during the game. I drop his hand and slam the laptop shut.

“Baby, were you reading the comments?” His brow pinches again, and I hate it.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

He knows I’m lying. His long strides eat up the space between us, and he cups my cheeks. “Ignore those assholes, Isla. Their opinions don’t matter. And they’re wrong, anyway. You and me. That’s all that matters.”

“You and me,” I murmur, nodding.

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