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And for the first time in a long time, I actually mean it.

Chapter 24

DAMON

Istare outside the window of conference room B of The Marlowe, taking in the blanket of white already covering the ground. My breath fogs the window as I glance up at the gray sky and the snow falling like thick, tufts of cotton to the ground.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Brandon mutters beside me.

“Looks like they were right.” I grit my teeth, wondering what this means for us.

“At least the girls got in safely last night,” Jace chimes in, appearing behind us. “They said on the news that today’s flights are already being canceled.”

My thoughts drift to Avery, not that they’re ever very far from her, and I wish I could see her. I may not know where this thing with us is headed, but it feels good—right.

Chris appears out of nowhere, a croissant in his mouth and a plate of food from the breakfast buffet piled high in his hands. “Let’s just hope there’s going to even be a game for them to see,” he says, speaking around the croissant before he drops it onto his plate like a dog. “Are you guys gonna eat or what? Look at this spread.” He glances down at his plate, which couldn’t possibly hold more food if he tried.

I shake my head. “The National Championship game is supposed to be tomorrow, there’s a fucking blizzard, and you’re thinking about food?”

“What else am I supposed to be thinking about right now?” he asks around a piece of bacon. “It’s breakfast.” His tone insinuates I’m the idiot for not considering my stomach first. “Besides, I think about plenty of other things.”

I arch a brow. “Like?”

“Like Charlotte, for one. I think about her a lot. And se—”

“Boys, listen up!” Coach’s voice booms through the conference room, and all heads turn.

Coach Greene stands in the center of the space, his face drawn into a serious expression as the noise around us dies.

“I just got off the phone with the CFP committee,” Coach says, his voice echoing in the now-silent room. “The championship game may be postponed.”

A collective groan ripples through the team, but he holds a hand up to silence us. “As of right now, they’re monitoring the storm. If conditions improve and they can clear the field, we might still play Monday.” He pauses, looking out the window at the worsening blizzard. “But I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, boys. The way this is looking, we could be here until another week.”

“An entire week?” I hiss.

Coach nods grimly. “It’s not ideal. We’re prepared. Ready for our battle on the field, but we need to roll with the punches, and in this case, that means being ready whenever they give us thegreen light. Think of it this way, that’s another week to review game tape and study plays.”

“What about training?” Brandon calls out beside me, motioning to the blanket of white outside. “It’s not like we can do anything in this.”

“Maybe not. But there’s a pool and a fitness center. If we find out we have to be here for that long, I’ll email each of you a training schedule for the week. Other than plays and game tape, there is plenty we can do, like mobility work and explosive movement drills.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Brandon mutters under his breath.

“So, what will that look like?” one of the players in the back of the room asks.

“Your mornings will be full, but your evenings will be free,” Coach continues. “I suggest you use them wisely. Curfew stays in effect and for today, I want everyone to stay put until I receive confirmation about Monday’s game. It goes without saying, there will be absolutely no alcohol. This isn’t a vacation, boys. Think of it as remote training. Any questions?”

Coach glances around the room, his face stern, and when no one speaks up, he nods once. “Alright, get yourselves some breakfast. You’re going to need your strength. I’ll update you all as soon as I hear anything more.”

The room erupts with chatter the second Coach leaves, and Chris doesn’t miss a beat, already digging back into his mountain of food.

“Well, this sucks,” Brandon says, slumping into a nearby chair. He runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his face. “I was ready to go. All pumped up. Now what?”

I feel that same disappointment churning in my gut. We’ve worked all season for this moment, and now it might be on hold because of the fucking snow. It’s insane.

“Look at the bright side,” Jace says, with a shit-eating grin as he motions for us to follow him to the buffet. “At least we get more time with the ladies.” He wiggles his brows, and Chris’s expression transforms.

Choking on a bite of food, Chris pounds his chest with his fist. “I didn’t even think of that, but you’re right. If flights are canceled, that means the girls are stuck here with us.”