Page 77 of Dump Tackle My Heart
Toher.
My Dani.
She’s bundled up in a big coat, snapping pictures for the socials, biting her lip, brows furrowed.
She’s worried.For me.
It lights something in me I didn’t even know I had.
Not fear.
Not distraction.
Purpose.
And then I feel it—eyes on me. Not hers.His.
Some smug bastard in Longhorn red, slinking close during the reset.
I know his type.
Big mouth, dirty hits, zero follow-through.
He follows my gaze, clocking Dani.
Smirks.
“Pretty little sidepiece you got there, Jackson,” he drawls under his breath. “Bet she’s mine after I kick your ass.”
I freeze.
Slowly, I turn my head.
“The fuck did you just say?”
His grin widens like this is a game.
And maybe it was.
But not anymore.
Now it’s personal.
Now, this tourney isn’t just about a trophy.
It’s abouthonor. Mine. Hers. Ours.
I grin. It’s sharp. Ferocious.
“Congratulations,” I tell him. “You just made the highlight reel, mate.”
He blinks. Too late.
Because when the whistle blows, I become everything he didn’t expect.
Explosive. Fast.Vicious.
He tries to push past our line—tries to take one of our wings down the sideline—but I’m there. Iamthe wall.
