Page 41 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

S avannah and Colleen pulled into the vendor parking lot tucked behind Knights Stadium, the early morning sun glinting off the silver bleachers. Savannah cut the engine and sat for a moment, her heart a jittery mess of nerves and hope, her hands clenched too tightly on the wheel.

Colleen had been acting... off. All week, she'd fluttered around Savannah like a wedding planner on deadline—fussing over her outfit, micromanaging her hair, even insisting she get a fresh coat of polish on her toes, “just in case.” When Savannah finally asked what the hell was going on, Colleen danced around the question like it was hot coals.

Now, she had the nerve to look smug and suspiciously pleased with herself as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Savannah shook off the unease and climbed out, reaching for the tote bag stuffed with brochures, flyers, and donation forms. She turned toward the back door and opened it, smiling as Carl bounded out, tail wagging like a flag in the wind.

He practically vibrated with joy, sticking to her side like Velcro.

He hadn’t left her shadow since she had brought him home.

His adoptive family had meant well, but he’d wilted without her—stopped playing, lost interest in food.

They’d called, worried, then heartbroken, and eventually gave him back without protest. Carl hadn’t needed words to tell her how he felt when she showed up to retrieve him.

His body had trembled with relief, his nose buried in her neck, whining softly.

Anyone who said dogs didn’t love didn’t know the first damn thing about them.

She scratched behind his ears and whispered, “We’re home, buddy. You and me.”

And if the universe was merciful, maybe today would prove people-love didn’t fade either. If she could just find Dylan, get close enough to explain, maybe she could convince him she hadn't used him—she’d loved him. Still did.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and started toward the vendor entrance, only to be steered firmly in the opposite direction.

“Colleen, the vendor entrance is that way.”

Her friend didn’t even glance back. “Player entrance. Trust me.”

Savannah halted. “Isn’t that how we get arrested?”

Colleen smirked. “Or how you get closure. Maybe even forgiveness. Move those legs.”

A weird flutter took flight in Savannah’s chest. Hope. Dangerous, traitorous hope.

They approached security, and to Savannah’s horror, Colleen marched straight up and gave their names. Savannah braced for a scene—questions, rejection, maybe handcuffs—but the guard checked a list and waved them through like they belonged there.

What the hell?

Just inside, a tall woman with sleek auburn hair and a warm smile stepped forward, her heels clicking on the polished floor.

“Colleen Hart and Savannah Monroe? I’m Stacia Kendall, head of publicity and promotion for the Knights.

We’re so glad to have you here. Follow me, and I’ll show you to your spot. ”

Carl, ever the icebreaker, trotted forward and greeted her the only way dogs know how—straight to the crotch.

“Carl, no!” Savannah hissed, fumbling with the leash, heat flaring in her cheeks as she yanked him back.

But Stacia only laughed, squatting down to scratch his ears. “Who’s a handsome boy? Oh, you’re going to be a star out there.” Carl leaned into the love, tongue lolling, tail a blur. “And look at that scarf—my God. You’re going to steal hearts.”

Savannah smiled, her grip on the leash easing slightly. “He already has.”

Stacia straightened, brushing her pants with a practiced flick. “So here’s the plan—you’ll start on the field for the pre-game ceremonies. A couple of brief speeches, then the parade of dogs.”

Savannah blinked. “Wait. The field? Aren’t we just one of several rescues running a table?”

Stacia tilted her head, her smile dimming with confusion. “Of course not. You’re our chosen charity for the entire event. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

The words hit like a fastball to the chest.

Savannah’s heart stuttered. Her legs felt suddenly unsteady.

What the hell is going on?

B y the time Savannah fully registered what had just happened, she was sitting on the cold cement floor of the tunnel, her tote bag crumpled beside her like an afterthought, and Carl licking her face with worried insistence.

The slickness of his tongue and the warmth of his big body pressing into her were grounding, pulling her back into her skin.

A paper cup of water appeared in front of her face, and she took it numbly, her hand brushing against the soft, manicured fingers of Stacia Kendall.

“I’m so sorry,” Stacia said, crouching down beside her with a concerned frown. “I thought you knew. Your treasurer and I worked out all the details. I didn’t mean to spring this on you.” She hesitated. “Are you going to be okay? We’re supposed to be on the field in fifteen minutes.”

Savannah blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of emotion that had crashed down on her like a rogue wave.

She swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting her voice yet.

She let Stacia help her to her feet, brushing grit from her palms onto her pants, then tugged at her red polo shirt to straighten it.

She smoothed the embroidered Soul Paws Rescue logo with shaking fingers, grounding herself in the familiarity of it.

The tunnel spun a little, then righted itself.

“Who… who set this up?” she asked, her voice a little raw, barely above a whisper.

Stacia cocked her head, a glimmer of a smile touching her lips.

“Dylan Prosser. It was all his idea. He came to us a few weeks ago, asked how he could help. Of course, we did our research first, but we were impressed with your work. What you’ve built in such a short time?

Incredible. We’re thrilled to have you as our event charity. ”

The floor tilted again, but this time it wasn’t from shock—it was from the staggering ache in her chest, and the sudden swell of longing that stole her breath.

Dylan .

Even after everything—even after the way she’d hurt him, the way he’d walked out—he had stayed true to his word.

Of course he had. That was who he was. Steady.

Loyal. Fierce when it came to protecting the people he cared about.

She blinked rapidly as fresh tears welled, but this time, they weren’t born of heartbreak. They were born of realization.

He’d never stopped believing in her. Even when she’d given up on herself.

The water in the cup rippled as her hands trembled, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and set it on the ground.

She bent to collect Carl’s leash, her fingers curling into the thick nylon like a lifeline.

He pressed into her leg, looking up with soft brown eyes that saw too much.

She gave him a watery smile and scratched behind his ear.

“You’re a good boy,” she murmured. “Let’s go be brave together.”

She turned back to Stacia, who was watching her carefully, eyebrows slightly lifted in question.

Savannah squared her shoulders and met the other woman’s gaze, voice steadier now. “I’m ready.”