Page 42 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

D ylan stood just behind home plate, nerves coiled tight in his gut, his hands flexing uselessly at his sides.

Sweat dampened the back of his neck beneath his cap, trickling down despite the mild breeze sweeping across the field.

It was ridiculous—he’d stared down some of the toughest pitchers in the league, caught through extra innings with the game on the line, taken hits that left bruises for weeks.

But none of that had shaken him like this.

This wasn’t about baseball. This was about laying his heart bare in front of thousands of strangers, hoping for a second chance with the woman who’d taken up permanent residence in his thoughts, who’d unraveled him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Sure, the Knights were in a playoff run, clawing for every win without their ace on the mound.

Yeah, the pressure was real. And he’d been the one to help bring Cody’s injury to light—maybe derailing their shot.

But no one had wanted Cody pitching through pain, risking his future for a maybe.

The team stood behind the choice. Just like they stood behind him now, watching from the dugout or out in the field, giving him space, offering quiet support.

But he wasn’t wearing his gear today. No pads. No mask. No bat. Just Dylan Prosser, exposed and vulnerable, hoping like hell that Savannah would come.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on the thighs of his uniform pants, the gritty texture grounding him. His throat was dry, even though he kept clearing it. Time was ticking down. No sign of her.

Stacia had assured him Savannah would be here. Colleen had been less convinced. She’d said she’d try, but her icy tone told him she wasn’t convinced he deserved the shot.

He glanced toward the tunnel again, squinting into the blinding sun. Still nothing.

Sadie, ever attuned to him, nudged his hand with her nose. He dropped to one knee, grateful for the excuse to focus on something steady. He ran his hand over her soft ears, burying his fingers in her fur.

“You’re the only girl who doesn’t make me sweat,” he murmured.

Sadie wagged her tail in response, her whole body vibrating with anticipation. She could sense something was happening, something big.

She’d been his inspiration for all of this—Sadie and Savannah both. Without them, he’d still be that guy who went home to an empty house, whose idea of love was a pre-game meditation and a post-game steak. Cody and Lindsey had told him groveling was necessary. Dylan didn’t grovel. But for Savannah?

He’d kneel.

Finally, one of the attendants gave the nod to the announcers, and the pre-game ceremonies began.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium speakers, but the words washed over Dylan like background static.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from the tunnel, hope flaring and dying with every second she didn’t appear.

Then—movement.

He straightened. Stacia stood on the top step, guiding someone forward.

Savannah.

She appeared in a swish of wind-blown blond hair, the red polo shirt clinging to her curves, the khakis hugging her hips, her expression caught between wariness and determination.

For a long moment, she just stood there, silhouetted against the dark tunnel behind her, brushing her hair back, scanning the field.

Scanning for him.

Their eyes locked across the distance. His heart kicked like a fastball to the chest.

Carl walked beside her, tail wagging.

Dylan gripped Sadie’s leash harder to keep from reaching for her. Don’t read into it . Don’t hope . But he was already hoping.

Savannah stepped onto the field, slow and deliberate, her stride steady even as her eyes widened at the crowd and the noise. Her posture was stiff, guarded. But she kept coming, crossing the diamond until she stood in front of him.

He didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t even breathe too loudly.

She tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, her voice cautious. “Dylan… what’s going on?”

He exhaled, a slow, shaky breath. “Please stand here.”

She hesitated, then stepped up beside him, Carl settling on her right, Sadie on his left. The dogs sniffed each other eagerly, tails wagging, oblivious to the tension between their humans.

The announcer gestured toward the jumbotron, and Dylan stepped forward as a video montage began playing—clips of players with their dogs, smiling, laughing, speaking about adoption.

His cue came. He took the mic in his hand, his fingers trembling for just a second before he firmed his grip and stepped into the spotlight.

“Thank you all for coming today,” he began, voice steady but thick. “Before this year, I’d never thought much about animal rescue. Then this little girl—” he scratched Sadie’s head— “crawled out of the woods, terrified, injured, and everything in my life changed.”

He paused, scanning the crowd, his eyes flicking back to Savannah.

“I tried to give her away. I thought I didn’t have room in my life for a dog. Turns out, it wasn’t just my house that was empty—it was everything.”

He nodded toward Savannah. “People like Savannah Monroe dedicate themselves to saving animals like Sadie. But the truth is, these animals save us, too. They teach us about love, patience, healing. About choosing someone, day after day.”

He turned back to the audience. “Today, we’re featuring dogs in need of homes, each escorted by one of the Knights. You’ll see their photos, learn a little about them, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll meet your new best friend.”

He stepped back and handed the mic off, returning to Savannah’s side just as Cody entered the field with his own foster dog, kicking off the parade. Each player followed, strutting alongside goofy, tail-wagging pups, their bios and silly pictures displayed on the giant screen above.

Savannah’s wide eyes tracked the procession, then turned to him, brimming with disbelief. “You did all this? For the rescue?”

He shook his head. “No. For you.” His gaze drifted to Carl. “Is he part of the adoption parade?”

Her spine straightened, jaw firm. “No. He’s family.”

His heart stuttered. “Adoption didn’t work out?”

She shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “He was never meant to leave. He’s mine. He always was. I was just too scared to see it.”

She paused, breath catching. “But I’m done running. From him. From you.”

Her hand twitched toward him, but just then, Stacia gave a signal, motioning for him to return to the mic. He hesitated, his eyes pleading with Savannah for patience, then stepped forward once more.

“We don’t just want to honor the animals today, but the people who dedicate their lives to saving them,” he said, voice loud and clear. “Today’s event will donate a portion of all ticket proceeds to Soul Paws Rescue, founded and run by Savannah Monroe and Colleen Hart.”

He turned to her, this time not hiding anything. “Savannah Monroe changed my life. She didn’t just rescue dogs—she rescued me. And I let fear and pride get in the way. I doubted her. Doubted her heart. That’s on me.”

His throat closed for a moment. He pushed through.

“But if she’ll have me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life proving that I believe in her. In us.”

The crowd roared as the oversized check was brought out and cameras snapped photos. Players, fans, volunteers, and dogs converged in a joyous tangle of motion. Dylan tried to keep his eyes on her, but she was swept away, momentarily lost in the crowd.

He looked down at Sadie and scratched behind her ears, his voice quiet. “Maybe I was too late.”

But deep down, hope still burned. Because this time, he wasn’t giving up. But maybe he needed an intermission.

S avannah tried to focus on the chaos swirling around her—people pointing, directing, barking orders about where to stand, where to look—but all she could think about was him.

She scanned the crowd, eyes flicking over uniforms and faces, looking for that familiar figure, tall and broad and heartbreakingly familiar. But Dylan was nowhere to be found.

Her heart thudded against her ribs as she pushed through clusters of people and wagging tails, past cameras and flashing bulbs. She didn’t care about the attention or the noise. All she cared about was finding Dylan and finally—finally—saying what she should’ve said days ago.

And then she nearly collided with Cody, who stepped into her path like a sentinel, arms crossed, expression solemn and vaguely disappointed.

“I thought better of you, Savannah,” he said quietly.

She froze, breath catching in her throat. “What?”

“What more does he have to do to admit he was wrong?”

Exasperation rushed through her like a gust of wind. “Maybe stand still for one fucking minute so I can talk to him.”

A grin broke across Cody’s face, quick and boyish and infuriatingly smug. “Well, damn. Why didn’t you say that? He went down the tunnel toward the locker room. Give him hell. Leave this big guy with me. I think we’ve bonded.”

She glanced at Carl, whose tail wagged happily as Cody took the leash. For half a second, she hesitated—what if Carl panicked again, now that he’d finally come home? But Carl didn’t even look back. He followed Cody into the crowd, soaking up the attention like a sunbather on a warm day.

Heart pounding, Savannah bolted down the concrete steps, dodging the distracted players and lingering staff. The tunnel yawned ahead, cool and dim and seemingly endless. But about halfway down, she caught sight of him—Dylan’s broad shoulders hunched as he walked away, Sadie trotting at his side.

“Dylan!”

He paused, his body stiffening, but he didn’t turn. Sadie, however, stopped in her tracks and began pulling backward against the leash, whining, her ears perked.

Savannah reached them, and Sadie broke free of Dylan’s grip just in time to knock her off her feet. She landed with a thump on the hard floor, breath knocked out of her, but she didn’t care. Sadie smothered her with happy, wet kisses, tail whipping like a flag.