Page 60 of Pucking Knox
Whispers ripple through the crowd. Scouts frantically scribble notes.
"I thought..." I swallow hard. "I thought pushing you away would protect you. Thought being alone was better than risking becoming him. My father. The man who taught me love always ends in damage."
Kennedy's hand comes up to her throat.
"But I was wrong. Because you never wanted to fix me. Never needed me to be perfect. You just wanted me – messy and complicated and real. And I was too scared to believe that."
"Knox," Wilson hisses. "The combine—"
"Is less important than this." I meet Kennedy's eyes across the space. "Less important than telling you I'm sorry. That I love you. That I'll spend every day proving I'm worthy of your faith if you'll let me."
Silence falls over the arena.
"I know I don't deserve another chance." My voice cracks. "Know I hurt you in ways I can't take back. But I'm not running anymore. Not from you. Not from us. Not from how terrifying it is to be loved by you."
Tears slip down her cheeks.
"So this is me choosing you. In front of everyone. Before the combine. Before the draft. Before everything." I take a shaky breath. "Because you were right – I am a coward. I’m sorry."
She stands slowly.
"I love you, Kennedy Walters. The real you – not the senator's daughter or the perfect campaign prop. Just you. I love you."
The mic falls from my hand. Cameras flash. Scouts whisper.
And Kennedy...
And Kennedy walks away.
My heart stops as she disappears through the arena doors. Whispers ripple through the crowd. Wilson puts his head in his hands. Scouts scribble furiously.
I just torched my draft chances for nothing.
"Well," Coach Evans says quietly. "That was either the bravest or stupidest thing I've ever seen."
"Both." I hand him my combine number. "I'm done for the day."
"Knox—"
But I'm already moving, following her path through the arena. Because if this is my last chance, I'm not wasting it on vertical jumps and sprint times.
I find her in the parking lot, pacing beside her car.
"Kenny."
"You don't get to do that." She whirls on me, tears streaming. "Don't get to make some grand declaration in front of everyone after pushing me away. After making me feel so fucking stupid. After—"
I kiss her.
Not gentle or careful or worthy of cameras. But desperate and real and everything I've been holding back. She responds instantly, hands fisting in my combine shirt as she kisses back with equal force.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"I'm sorry," I say against her lips. "For everything. I’m so fucking sorry."
"Shut up." She kisses me again, shorter this time. "Just... shut up for a minute."
I hold her close and breathe her in and wait for whatever verdict she's about to deliver.
