Page 44 of Watching You

The questions keep coming, but I’m already walking away. Toward the tunnel. Toward her.

Because the game’s over.

But the story’s just beginning.

I text her the second I’m off the field.

Me:

Tunnel. Five minutes. Don’t disappear.

Then I’m in the showers, fast and brutal. Cold water, hot skin. I scrub the game off me, but nothing touches the heat still coiled low in my gut. Not after that kiss. Not after the way she looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I throw on jeans, a hoodie, and my chain. No time for the post-game breakdown. No locker room speeches. No celebration.

Rhett calls after me. “Yo, captain—where are you going?”

“Rain check,” I toss over my shoulder. “Tell Coach I’ll make it up to him.”

I find Kinsley near the exit, still in her school colors, arms crossed like she’s been waiting.

“She’s not coming home tonight,” I mention.

Kinsley raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’ve got her.”

I start to turn, but Kinsley steps in front of me, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“You better,” she says.

I blink. “What?”

She doesn’t flinch. “I’m serious, Kane. If you’re not in this for real, leave her alone.”

I stare at her, stunned. “You think I’m messing around?”

“I think you’re intense,” she says. “I think you get tunnel vision. And I think Blair’s the kind of girl who’ll give you everything if you ask for it, but she won’t survive it if you take it and walk away.”

Her words hit harder than any tackle I’ve taken all season.

“She’s not just some girl in the stands,” Kinsley continues. “She’s my best friend. She’s been through hell. And if you break her, I swear to God, I’ll make you regret it.”

I nod slowly, jaw tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” she starts. “Then prove it.”

I glance toward the tunnel, where Blair’s waiting. Her hair shimmers in the light, and her lavender eyes are locked on mine like she already knows what Kinsley just said.

“I will,” I promise.

Kinsley steps aside, but her gaze stays on me. Watching. Measuring.

And I know this isn’t just about love.

It’s about legacy.

And I’m not about to fuck it up.