Page 153 of Broken Saint
Everything is here.
My phone begins vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans, and I rip my eyes away from my man to pull it free.
I don’t think about my actions until it’s in front of me and I panic I might be forced to look athisname.
My heart sinks as reality hits.
I might have made a decision about my future, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t still have a past that needs dealing with.
But thankfully, when I look down, I don’t find a message from him, but from Mom.
Swiping the screen, I find a photograph of her TV.
Frowning in confusion, I open it to full size and gasp.
It’s a photo of the jumbotron. Half the screen is filled with my sappy, smiling face, and the other of Colt as he blows me a kiss.
My cell buzzes again with another message.
Mom: I can’t wait to meet him. Anyone who makes you smile like that is good with me.
“Mommy Myers approves,” Letty teases.
“Let’s just hope the rest of the world does, huh?” I mutter after tapping out a message to let Mom know that I’ll call her later and pocket my cell again.
“Something tells me that you’re about to find out.”
“I can’t believe he did that,” I muse, my heart pounding all over again just thinking about it.
“It could have been worse,” Peyton offers. “He could have dropped to one knee and proposed.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, but the start of the game swallows my reaction to her comment, and our ability to hold a conversation comes to an abrupt end as everyone cheers around us.
The game is one of the best I’ve ever watched. Both teams give everything they have, and the score is tight the whole way.
The Saints took the lead first, sending the entire stadium into chaos, but the Chiefs pulled it back in the second quarter and they’ve been battling ever since.
As the final quarter begins, the Saints are up by four points. But it’s nowhere near enough for anyone to relax.
The Saints offense lines up. We can’t hear over the crowd, but we can see as Luca barks orders at his teammates, calling the play that hopefully will be the one to give them the edge.
A collective gasp sounds out at the snap, and I swear everyone leans a little closer to watch as Luca catches the ball and prepares to launch it up field—I assume to Kane, who’s taken off at full speed. But just before he throws it, Luca changes direction, setting his sights on Colt, who darts around the Chiefs tight end, ready to catch the pass.
“Oh my god,” I gasp as the leather leaves Luca’s fingers, heading in Colt’s direction.
He’s open. The Chiefs defense is still trying to recover from where they thought this play was going.
But as the balls begin to descend, a Chiefs linebacker seems to come out of nowhere, barreling toward Colt at the speed of light.
Fear wraps around me as I scream at him, willing the ball to move faster so he has time to move.
I’ve watched Colt play numerous times, and I’ve seen him taken down over and over. I’ve tended to more than a handful of his injuries and given him countless massages that he probably didn’t even need. But there is something about this impending tackle that makes my heart jump into my throat.
With everything that’s happened in the last few days, I just assume that it’s because things between us are heightened rightnow. Any pain he feels, I’m going to feel right alongside him. And something tells me that this is going to hurt.
My screams falter a heartbeat before the two of them collide.
I swear, right then, time fucking stops.