Page 75 of The Break Down

Yeah. There’s this sick little twinge of satisfaction curling in my gut.

Because they all see her now.

With me.

And whether they approve, disapprove, or start placing bets—I already won.

She’s here.

She stayed.

She’s mine.

Coach eyes me. Then Finley. Then the SUV.

Then me again.

“You good now, Jackson?” he asks, tone neutral.

“Yes, sir.”

He nods. “Glad to hear it. Now get your fucking gear on and BACK TO THE PADDOCK YOU LOT!”

Everyone jumps.

But Coach pauses.

Then he grins.

Just slightly.

And keeps walking.

Which is somehow awesome.

Tank claps me on the back. “Well, looks like you’re a taken man now, Bro. Too bad for groupies, but good on you, yeah?”

I glance at Finley—cheeks red, eyes wide, lips tight like she’s biting back a thousand thoughts.

I walk over and pull her into my side, letting my hand rest on her hip.

She glances up at me, surprised.

I kiss her temple.

Publicly.

Intentionally.

Her breath catches.

Tank lets out a low whistle.

“Well, shit,” he mutters. “Guess I have to call Mum now.”

“Shut it,” I say to him, then to her, “you good?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Are you?”

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