‘Okay?’ I feel my hackles rise immediately. ‘I thought we had the conversation about—’

‘No, I wanna make sure you’re okay.’ He jerks a thumb towards the field, where we can still hear the thrumming of the eager crowd through the walls. ‘That’s a massive crowd. And if I’m not wrong, there’s definitely at least one MLL coach out there somewhere. This is the biggest lacrosse match-up in the South. I’m sure you don’t need to be told twice.’

I definitely don’t. I’ve been thinking about it since we came into Chester to help pick up wreckage and fix the stands. The same stands a coach might sit in, this very weekend, to watch us play, hunt for prospects. It’s not even just the thought of a coach watching. Colt’s a step ahead of me. Obviously having him back home, and at every single lacrosse game front row, has had its perks for our programme, filling our stands for essentially the first time in Oklahoma women’s lacrosse history, but the pressure is mounting, too. I had already had to worry about keeping my performance this season consistent, holding onto my tuition, as well as getting us to the championship, and now I still had to decide if I was even going to declare for the draft.

It all floods my brain way too quickly, and Colt must see the terror in my eyes, because he curses under his breath. ‘Sorry. Do-over. That wasn’t what you needed to hear. May. Look at me.’

He steadies me by the shoulders, and as much as I feel like a confused little kid, I do look at him. His grey eyes bore into mine, and he opens his mouth to say something, closes it, takes a beat. It’s a moment before he finally gives me the decisive words. ‘Make sure they have hell to pay.’

A tense breath escapes my lungs, and I waggle my head in what I hope is a gesture of ‘yes’. What? What is going on?

Coach Dillon yells for him, and he shoots me one last encouraging smile before jogging off to take care of whatever might be going on, still in that damn suit of his, and suddenly, my brain is all thoughts of how well those pants fit him and how his stupid overgrown hair looks extra fun to run your fingers through all swept back like that, and the way ‘hell to pay’ might have been one of the hottest things a man could say in that situation.