“I just need to tell you how much you mean to me. No matter what happens in the future, you’ve changed me. You made me face things I’ve spent forever hiding from, and I will always love you for that. I’m just so sorry that in that process I ignored your doubts and feelings just because I was scared to face my issues—”

“You love me?” His eyes go soft and I hope it’s not from pity.

“I know it was fast and I get it if you don’t—”

Before I can explain or even say yes, Quinton’s mouth is on top of mine. The urgent, demanding kiss, forcing my mouth open as our tongues circle each other.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he whispers, his breath dancing across my lips. “Because even though you make me crazy, I love you too.”

“Howard!” a security guard at the opening of the field yells. “You’re next!”

Quinton grabs his helmet off the floor and intertwines his fingers in mine, running with me and only letting go of my hand when his feet hit the turf. He jogs backward onto the field, bringing his hand to his mouth and blowing me a kiss before lifting his helmet into the air and running into the middle of the circle of his teammates, all with their black tape on their jerseys, as they cheer for him along with the rest of the stadium.

I only wish I could see the look on Mahler’s face right now.

“Sooo . . .” Brynn bumps her shoulder into mine. “How’d it go?”

Even though I’m sure the smile that has taken over my face gives her the answer, it feels so good to say the words. “I love him.”

“Girl, tell us something we don’t already know!” Vonnie stands besides us, the sun catching on the crystals of her shirt I know she doesn’t want to be wearing.

I look out at the field, watching Quinton as all of his teammates, with their logos blacked out, walk over to him and pat him on the back before they line up on the sideline. “He loves me too.”

“Fucking finally!” Greer—GREER!—shouts. “It took you two long enough.”

We all break out laughing and for the first time in a long time, I feel free. There’s no sadness lingering beneath my laugh, no weight on my shoulders that I can’t shake. I just feel happy. And, as I look back to the field as the first notes of the anthem begin to play and see everyone on the Mustangs’ sideline, players and coaches—and even some of Baltimore’s players—drop to their knees, a pride I didn’t know was possible flows through my veins.

Knowing how pissed Mahler must be in his box is just the icing on the cake.