Page 82 of Flag On The Play
I scoff, shaking my head. “Yeah, I don’t think I need to see that. Reading about it was hard enough.”
“This is different,” Delaney says, her eyes soft but insistent.
Roxy nods. “Believe me, babe, you want to watch this.”
“Why?” My voice cracks, because I’m not sure I can handle another knife to the heart.
Delaney leans forward. “Because it’s Finlay.” She pauses, letting his name settle like a punch to my ribs. “And it’s not what you think. I just sent the link. Go watch it.”
Before I can protest, they hang up.
I sit there staring at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen like touching it might burn me. Finally, I click the link. The video loads, and there he is, Finlay Reed, sitting in front of a backdrop with the team’s logo and the Victory Bowl logo splashed across it, cameras flashing all around.
My breath catches. Just seeing him again has my heart aching, my stomach knotting, and tears threatening to fall.
He’s in a team hoodie, hat pulled low, but nothing can hide the tired shadows under his eyes. He looks wrecked. Not the usual cocky, untouchable Finlay Reed the world is used to seeing.
A reporter’s voice cuts in, asking about the game, his performance, the road to the championship. He answers steady and composed, but there’s no fire in his tone. And then it happens.
Another reporter leans forward, a smirk in his voice.
"Finlay, there’s been a lot of talk about the article that came out last week. About you and a dancer from Heaven’s Edge. Care to comment? Is she your girlfriend? Was this just a fling?"
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t laugh it off like I expected. He leans toward the mic, his eyes deadly serious.
"Her name is Nova," he says, voice firm. "And if anyone in this room thinks they can talk about her like she’s some cheap headline, you can find another press conference to attend."
The room falls silent. He lets it sit there, heavy, before continuing.
"She’s not just a dancer. She’s the woman I—" he pauses, his jaw tightening, "—love. She’s smart, strong, and she’s been through hell because of the lies people spread. And if you think I’m going to sit here and let you reduce her to that trash article, you’re wrong."
The camera catches the flicker of something in his expression. Pain, regret, maybe both, and it’s like a fist around my heart.
"So yeah," he finishes, "we’re going to the Victory Bowl. But none of it means anything if it comes at the cost of her. She didn’t chase me. I chased her. She’s the love of my life and a damn talented dancer. I’m proud to have her on my arm, but I’m not so sure she’s proud to have me anymore. That article, all the memes, they’ve destroyed the only thing I love more than football. So, just a heads up, if you’re thinking about printing her name again with lies attached to it, be prepared because it’s me you’ll be dealing with."
The moderator cuts in, moving on to the next question, but I don’t hear it. My hand is covering my mouth, my chest tight. Tears are rolling down my cheeks before I even realize it.
Because for the first time since that night, I see a man who would burn down his own world if it meant defending me.
And I don’t know what to do with it.
CHAPTER 24
FINLAY
Ihave no idea if she saw it. No idea if she’ll slam the door in my face. But I can’t stay away. Not after saying what I said on national television. Not after finally telling the truth.
I knock softly against the wood. The sound feels too small for the hurricane inside me.
The door swings open, and there she is. Eyes red and swollen. Tracks of fresh tears visible on her cheeks. My chest cracks right open.
“Can we please talk?” My voice is low, almost breaking.
Her hand grips the edge of the door like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. “Why now, Finlay?” Her tone isn’t sharp; it’s tired. Wounded. “Why not before the world knew? Why not before you broke me?”
I take a step closer, but stop when she subtly leans back. I could tell her it’s because she kept ignoring my calls. I could say it’s because when I was trying to reach her, she hid. But I won’t because this is all on me, and she deserves someone who understands that.
“Because I was scared,” I admit, my throat tight. “Scared of losing everything I’ve worked for. Scared of letting my teamdown. Scared of what it would mean for you if I didn’t handle it right. And I handled it so wrong.”
