Hail Mary (Red Zone Rivals, #4)

by Kandi Steiner

“You can either wear this sweater or I’ll use it to tie you down and warm you up with my body heat, instead.”

I’d always wanted a guy to give me his jacket.

I turned just in time for him to open a huge jacket and wrap it around me from behind. Not just a jacket. His letterman. I froze when the weighted fabric cloaked me, my heart pounding in my ears. “What are you doing?” I thought I heard myself ask. I glanced up at Leo, who only shrugged and tucked the jacket tighter around me. “Making dreams come true.”

Giana leaned into her side like she wanted to whisper, but we still all heard her when she said, “Oh, my God. This is one of my favorite tropes. Two people who hate each other, one bed…”

And when I took her hand in mine, the piece of me I’d been missing for years quietly snapped into place.

“You have consumed me for months,” Leo breathed against my neck, maneuvering my head so he could kiss along the column of my throat before working his way back to my mouth. “Por años.” A bruising kiss punctuated that anguished confession before he pressed his forehead to mine, our breaths hot and frantic between us. “I couldn’t sleep one more night without making you mine.”

“Fictional characters have been my only friends for years,” Giana added.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so, so fucking sorry. But I’m here. And I want you, Mary, you. All of you. Exclusive. No bullshit, no wondering what’s next, no games.” I looked at her again. “I’ve never felt anything for anyone else but you — even when I didn’t know it was you all along. You’re fucking it for me.”

That’s the thing no one tells you about being a victim to harassment — that not only do you lose power during the assault, but afterward, too, when you’re expected to follow rules put in place by people who have no idea what you’ve been through or what’s at stake.

He pulled off his helmet, and I saw the flash of his teeth before he was sprinting. Leo shoved through the crowd, declining every microphone that was thrust in his face as he made a beeline for the section I was in. With a running start, he leapt over the concrete wall that separated the stands from the field, and then he was taking the bleacher steps two at a time.

After that, I was swept into his arms.

I can handle it. I can take it. I can go to war for you, or with you, if it’s what you need.”

Oh! I could start saying it in Spanish. Lo siento. Lo siento mucho.”