Page 52 of The Perfect Pass
Calla could’ve handled it, though. Maybe…
Admittedly, she’d thought about kissing him once or twice. More often than that, if she was really being honest. The number had to be in the double-digits by now, although she’d lost count somewhere around the time he’d first called her sweetheart. Still, she hadn’t acted on it. There’d still been a chance she could keep her reporter hat for the duration of his stay in Bishop Falls. She’d been having fun with Jackson—more fun than she’d allowed herself to have for quite some time. Since he’d been in town, she could feel her hard edges beginning to soften. She was a different Calla when she was around him. At first, those changes had terrified her, but then she’d realized she enjoyed feeling hopeful again. The anvil that always sat in the center of her chest, weighing her down when she woke up in the morning, felt lighter every day. She’d always felt like a bit of an outsider in her own hometown, and now there was someone here who understood her…who knew what she was thinking before she had to say anything.
And still, she’d somehow managed to convince herself that once Jackson left, everything would stay the same.
But now that he’d done the impossible, all hope was lost. She couldn’t pretend that whatever they had was just a harmless flirtation anymore. The second he’d kicked those boys off the team and taken on the Victory Club, he’d stolen a chunk of her heart. Calla wasn’t sure she’d ever get it back, and even worse, she didn’t think she wanted to.
Win or lose, there’s only one way this season ends. He’s going back to Chicago.
She swallowed that wretched truth down like she always did when it wormed its way back into her head. Calla had dealt with loss before. She could do it again, right?
“You looked like you could use some moral support out there,” she said, and the affectionate glow in his eyes was almost too much to take. What was she doing? A heart could only take so much loss before it broke for good.
She gave the pizza box a little nudge with the tip of her red boot. “Also, a little sustenance can’t hurt.”
“You brought me dinner?” The corners of his eyes crinkled in that way she loved so much. “Careful there, sweetheart. You might make me think you’re on my side in all this mess when you’re supposed to be impartial.”
There it was again.
Sweetheart.
A tender ache bloomed in her chest. She drummed her fingertips on the metal bleachers and looked away. “You just seemed like you might need some fuel, that’s all. Plus someone needs to save you from whatever questionable protein bars you’ve probably been surviving on.”
He snort-laughed, sat down beside her and gave her thigh a gentle nudge with his. “What makes you think I need saving?”
They both knew the answer to this question already. If the team didn’t win the next game, his head was on the chopping block. With just one loss, the terms of his contract paved the way for his termination. The Victory Club wouldn’t hesitate to pressure the athletic director into yanking the head coaching position away from Jackson and putting a puppet like Bob Simmons in charge.
Calla shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. Just a hunch, I guess.”
She stole a look at him, and a muscle in his jaw flexed as he looked out over the turf. Up close, she could spy the tension etched in his face…the strain carved into the tight line of his mouth.
“Jackson,” she said quietly. Darkness fell around them as the stadium lights shut off and the sun dipped lower in the sky. The evening light felt so soft and forgiving that she gave in and let her head rest against his shoulder. “I think we both know whose side I’m on.”
He didn’t say anything. He just turned his head ever so slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.
“You’ve got this,” she said.
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She lifted her head, turned and regarded him through narrowed eyes. “But in case you need some extra motivation, I’m willing to make you a promise. If the Bulldogs beat Rustwood, I’ll let you buy me the biggest, most obnoxious mum you can find, and I’ll wear it to the homecoming dance after the game. Assuming I have a date, that is.”
His gaze shimmered with playful mischief. “Well, well, well. This certainly makes things more interesting.”
“I just know how much you love a wager.” They shared a quiet smile at the memory of the football toss.I love football.Calla could still taste those words on the tip of her tongue, surprisingly sweet. She took a deep breath. “Also, I want to see the Bulldogs win as much as you do. I guess I’m no different than anyone else in this town. Who knew?”
She laughed under her breath, but Jackson just shook his head.
“Wrong,” hesaid, and there was a rawness in his voice that coiled low in her belly. He reached out a tentative hand to cup her face, and when she didn’t pull away, he traced her lower lip with a reverent graze of his thumb. “There’s no one like you, Calla.”
If he didn’t kiss her, she might just die. But she refused to take her last breath at Bulldog Stadium. No way would she let that happen, so instead, she gulped and whispered, “Tell me something. Please?”
“Anything,” he said, searching her gaze for a hint at what she was getting at.
“Why did you leave the Cyclones training camp to go to Las Vegas? You weren’t there to party at all, were you?” Nothing about that story made sense, now that she’d gotten to know him. It just didn’t fit.
Jackson backed away a little, clearly surprised by the question.
“I’m not asking you as a reporter,” she said. The lines between them had become so blurred that she felt like it was an important distinction to make. “And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just know in my heart there’s more to the story.”
