Page 183 of Blackwood

“Josh?”

“Ready and caffeinated.”

“Sam?”

“Yep. Let’s go make ‘em sweat.”

“Drake?”

“Yo. Been ready for hours.”

Knox’s tone shifts, more playful.“Hales?”

“Yes, lover,”Haley purrs through the mic.

“Ellie?”

“Ready!”She chirps, all cheer and fire.

Knox pauses, the smirk in his voice audible.“Problem Child?”

“Yes, Knox,” Bella deadpans, rolling her eyes even though he can’t see it.

“Alright, girls,”Knox says, clapping once.“Stretch it out, shake it off, and make ‘em remember tonight.”

A single beep cuts through the line.Earpieces off.Showtime.

Bella rises, adjusting her top as she stands between us. She leans down first to Cade, brushing a kiss against his lips, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that lingers in your bloodstream. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it, sweetheart.”

Then she turns to me. I grab her waist before she can even lean down and pull her in for a kiss that’s a little longer, a little deeper. She tastes like cherry gloss and adrenaline.

“Stretch good, baby,” I growl against her mouth. “I’ll be watching every damn move.”

She grins, pulls back just enough to wink at both of us, then spins on her heel and jogs toward the sideline where Ellie and Haley are already starting warm-ups.

Josh is down on one knee beside her now, helping her stretch out her hamstrings. Bella’s flat on her back, one leg extended while he gently pushes the other toward her chest. She’s talking to him, smiling, laughing, and totally relaxed. One hand’s on her calf. His other one moving way too high up her thigh.

I shift in my seat.

Cade side-eyes me. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not,” I lie.

Josh adjusts her leg and she winces, biting her lip. He says something that makes her laugh again, and my jaw tightens so hard I hear it click.

Yeah. I’m definitely starting. But before I can stand, I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“Jesus, Lex. You’d think the Bills were playing here tonight.”

I turn just as my dad walks down the steps toward us, looking like he just stepped out of a Manhattan architect’s boardroom instead of pulling up to a college football game. Black button-down with sleeves rolled to the elbows, sunglasses tucked into the neck of his shirt, designer messenger bag slung over oneshoulder like he didn’t just spend twenty minutes circling for parking.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, standing just long enough to pull him into a quick hug.

“Cade.” He nods. “Good to see you again, son.”

“You too, Daniel,” Cade replies with a respectful smile.