Page 88 of The Break Down

And I’m done, chest heaving, sweat beading down my brow, I don’t return to the line.

I turn, running straight to the sideline.

Then I come to a full stop in front of her.

Finley’s staring at me, tears in her glittering green eyes.

She is looking right at me like I’ve lit up the whole sky.

“W-what are you doing?” she whispers, eyes wide.

I reach into my pocket.

Drop to one knee.

The crowd gasps.

I don’t hear them.

I don’t see them.

I only see her.

“Finley Adamo,” I say, voice rough with everything I feel, “You’ve changed my whole life. Made me believe in more than this game, this body, this season. You’ve made me believe in us.”

Her hands fly to her mouth.

“I love you. Truly. Madly. Completely. And permanently. I want the whole world to know you’re not just my girlfriend. You’re my home.”

I flip open the box.

“Will you marry me, Red?”

She doesn’t speak.

She launches herself at me instead, arms wrapped around my neck, laughing and sobbing and nodding so hard I think she might sprain something.

“Yes!” she shouts. “Yes, you crazy, beautiful man, yes!”

The stadium explodes.

Camera flashes.

Fans screaming.

Her own assistant clicking away with the camera.

Carolina is yelling from beside her.

Tank is howling something from the field about calling Mum and getting to choose the color for his best man’s tux.

Whatever.

All I can hear is her, whispering into my ear.

“I love you, Number Eight.”

And just like that? It no longer matters what happens to my career, even though I suspect it will be a good one.

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