Page 211 of Red Zone
Because this weekend might’ve been about football.
But the only thing that really matters now is getting to her.
And proving she’s still mine.
Coach’s house is louder than I’ve ever heard it.
The entire main floor is packed—players, families, coaches, department heads, even a couple reporters milling around the edges. Laughter bounces off the high ceilings, glasses clink, and somebody’s already set up a speaker playing a classic rock playlist that feels very much like Coach chose it.
It’s supposed to be a celebration.
For Jaxon. For me. For all of us who got the call this weekend.
But walking into this house, all I can think about is Lyla.
I shake a few hands on my way through the crowd, accepting backslaps and congratulations with a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
Jaxon catches me near the kitchen, holding a beer and looking infuriatingly relaxed.
“Well, look who finally showed up,” he says with a grin, clapping my shoulder.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I mutter, forcing a smirk.
He narrows his eyes at me, then glances around like he knows what—or rather who—I’m looking for.
“She’s here,” he says quietly, dropping the grin. “Out back. Probably trying to avoid the circus.”
I hesitate.
He leans in, his voice low. “You already did the hard part, Hayes. Don’t let this one go now.”
Madison appears beside him then, slipping her arm through his with a knowing smile.
“You’ll regret it if you do,” she adds softly.
I glance between them, my chest tightening, then finally give a sharp nod.
“Thanks,” I murmur, already moving toward the back of the house.
The sliding door clicks shut behind me, muffling all the noise of laughter and clinking glasses coming from inside.
Out here, the night feels calmer. The faint ripple of water in the pool. The soft hum of cicadas.
String lights glowing overhead, casting everything in warm gold.
And there she is.
Sitting by herself on one of the lounge chairs near the deep end, heels off and laying beside her.
Her hair’s loose, catching the breeze, and her dress drapes around her like it was made for her.
For a second, I just stand there.
Because even after everything, even after weeks of keeping my distance, nothing—and no one—feels more like home than she does.
I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way toward her.
She must hear me coming because she glances up just as I reach her chair.
