Page 79 of Trade It All

She grins against my mouth. “That one was dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic because I love you.” The words come out easier now. Natural. Like saying them has already become something my chest reaches for. Her expression softens instantly.

And I cup her face, making sure she holds still long enough for me to say the rest.

“You do not leave my sight tonight if you can help it,” I tell her, my thumbs brushing under her jaw. “If he breathes in your direction, I want to know. If he says one word, I want to know. If at any point this feels too big, too heavy, toomuch—”

I press my forehead harder to hers.

“You come to me.”

Her eyes glisten just slightly. Not tears. Just feeling. “I will.”

I kiss her. Slow. Deep.

Not because I’m trying to start something before we leave, but because I need one solid second of her in me before I have to walk into a night I already know I’m going to hate.

When I pull back, I keep her there. Keep my hands on her. Keep my eyes on hers.

“You’re not doing this alone,” I whisper.

And judging by the way her arms tighten around me—she believes me.

I hate leaving her.

I know that makes me sound insane considering we walked into the arena together less than thirty minutes ago and she is somewhere in this building, not across the country, not unreachable, not actually gone.

Doesn’t matter.

The second we stepped through the employee entrance and the night shifted from ours to game mode, every protective nerve in my body snapped tight again.

I tried to keep her beside me at first.

Not in any obvious way. I’m not an idiot.

Just little things. Walking slower so she stayed near. Asking if she needed to check something with me before she ran off. Dragging out a conversation in the hallway longer than necessary. She caught on by the second attempt. Stopped in the middle of the corridor, planted one hand on her hip, and gave me that look.

The stern one. The one that somehow says I love you but I will absolutely fight you if you keep this up.

“Coach,” she said, emphasizing the title just enough to remind me where we were.

I should have been irritated. Instead, my chest did something embarrassingly warm because even while she was trying to push me away to do her job, she still looked like she wanted to smile.

“I have work to do.”

I leaned in close enough that no one passing could hear me. “So do I. Mine just involves worrying about you.”

That earned me an eye roll. A full one.

Then she squeezed my hand low by our sides where no one could see it and walked away before I could come up with another excuse to keep her.

So now I’m in the coaching room pretending to listen to assistant coaches discuss line matchups while my brain is nowhere near the whiteboard.

We’re in our arena. That should help. This is her building. Her people. Every employee from the front desk to the damn janitorial staff knows Maddie. Half of them adore her. The players would flatten anyone who looked at her wrong, and the families are already filling the row upstairs like an army.

She is surrounded by people who would protect her. I know that. Logically, I know that.

Doesn’t do a damn thing for the feeling sitting in the center of my chest. It hasn’t eased once. Not since I woke up this morning.