Chapter 49 "How many times are you going to check your phone in a five-minute period?" Tyson teases as he sits down on the locker room bench across from me. "As many times as it takes," I shoot back. Besides, I'm not checking my phone. I'm scrolling through some of my favorite text exchanges with Sloane while I wait for her to get here. It's not my fault my girlfriend manages to be both incredibly wonderful and incredibly funny at the same time. She texted me thirty minutes ago to say that she landed and was on her way, and I've pretty much been jumping out of my skin ever since. She turned me down for Christmas with the family, so we haven't seen each other in a month. And while I have every intention of going out there and winning this game today, it's far from the only thing on my mind. In fact, right now my biggest concern is keeping Sloane safe. I got here extra early to run through the security plan with Vince, the assistant head of security, to make sure everything is in place. We went over it yesterday as well, but when it comes to Sloane's safety, I'm not fooling around. Not when she has some obsessed stalker who's growing more unstable with every day that passes, at least according to Marco. She tries to play it down for me, but Marco and I talk almost daily about the state of the investigation. Considering the last letter she received included a picture of her chopped into tiny pieces and coated with what the FBI assures us is animal blood, I'm not really up for taking chances. No way is somebody getting to her today-not on my watch and not in my house. My phone dings, and I swipe down to find a new text from Sloane. Sloane: We're pulling in now Me: I'll be waiting for you Even though this is what I've been waiting for, my heart starts pounding overtime. I leap up and grab the bouquet of flowers I got for her this morning-purple calla lilies with white-and-pink peonies-and make a beeline for the locker room door. As I do, I send a message to Vince to let him know it's time. This thing needs to run like clockwork, and his guys being out there to greet her is the first step. Sloane: Don't you have something more important to be doing right now? Me: More important than seeing my girl after the longest twenty-nine days of my life? Not really "Wait. Is this it?" Marquis asks, looking up from his own phone for the first time. "Is Sloane here?" "She will be in a minute." "Hell yeah." He jumps to his feet. "I can't wait to meet her." "Yeah, that's not going to happen," I tell him, closing the door in his face. Not that that stops him. Seconds later, he's in the hallway with me, wearing an extremely insulted expression. "Hey, I'm the one who got you two together! Don't you think I should see the fruits of my labor?" "Not sure bribing the jumbotron operator can actually be called labor." "Well, it's more than you did," he grouses as he keeps following me. And, it turns out, he's not the only one. The entire O-line is trailing behind me, determined not to miss their shot at meeting Sloane. One look at their faces tells me it's no use arguing, so I don't. Instead, I position myself right in front of the open doors at the players' entrance and wait for her to get to me. Less than two minutes later, a black SUV pulls up to the entrance and Marco climbs out of the passenger seat. He moves to open the door, but she shoves it open before he gets there and throws herself into my arms, flowers and all. I never would have expected my careful, reticent, suspicious-of-everyone-and-everything Sloane to dive into my arms like that. But she just did, and there's no way in hell I'm going to complain about it, even if it doesn't give me a chance to shift the flowers around to prepare. I drop them, because I sure as shit would rather have an armful of Sloane than a bunch of lilies any day, and catch her on the fly. And then finally, finally, after the longest four weeks of my life, she's back in my arms where she belongs. She winds her hands around my neck, leans her body against mine, and slams her mouth-her gorgeous, top-heavy, red-tinted mouth-into mine. Nothing has ever felt so good. I wrap my arms around her as well, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss despite the whistles and catcalls coming from all around us. To be honest, with the amount of ribbing I've taken the last few months, I'm a little surprised the guys didn't bring popcorn. Or confetti. Coach and some of the fans may be a little bent out of shape over Sloane and me, but my teammates are all in. Especially Marquis. Sloane ignores the whistles, too, kissing me thoroughly before finally pulling away. I give her one more quick kiss, loving that she always tastes like cherries, then reluctantly pull back. "Hi," I whisper. I'm grinning like a fool, and I don't even give a shit. Having her here with me, in my stadium, is the best gift she could ever give me. Having her here today, when Grant and the Grizzlies are also in my stadium-I can't believe they fucking made the playoffs-makes the whole thing a little more bearable. "Hi," she whispers back, and though her face is serious, her eyes are smiling just as big. "Thanks for the flowers." "Oh, right." I pick them up and hand them to her. "They're a little worse for wear, but the sentiment's there." "The sentiment's what counts." She holds out a small black gift bag for me to take. "What's this?" "You're not the only one with sentiment," she answers, smirking in a way that makes me want to kiss her again. "For me?" I know I sound shocked, but I can't help it. I've never had a woman I'm dating give me a present just because. Birthdays or Christmas, sure. But just because she was thinking of me? That's usually my department. "What is it?" I ask, glancing from Sloane's face to the bag and back again. "Sloane Walker merch, obviously," she replies. "Really?" I don't try to hide my excitement. I've been wanting another T-shirt or three. Marquis stole the one I picked up at the concert last month. Which makes her laugh-like, full-on laugh-and I can't help grinning back. Because Sloane doesn't laugh very often. She smiles a lot more now than when I met her, but laughs are still rare. The thought only makes me want to try harder to make her sound like this more often. God knows I'll never get tired of it. "No, Sly." She rolls her eyes. "I did not bring you a T-shirt with my face on it." "Color me disappointed," Marquis calls from behind me. "I would have liked seeing him run around in a little crop top from the Yes, I Bite tour." "I think you mean you would have liked running around in a Yes, I Bite crop top," I say without turning around. I can't take my eyes off Sloane. I can hear the shrug in his voice. "Truth in advertising, baby. Truth in advertising." "Who's your friend?" she asks. "Nobody," I answer, because once I start with the introductions, I know I won't be able to stop until everyone's met her. "I'll remember that when Fitzgerald comes running straight for your ass," Marquis grumps. I ignore him in favor of holding up my present. "Should I open it?" "You should wait until you don't have quite so much of an audience," she answers. Then looks past me to Marquis. "It's nice to meet you, Nobody." And just like that, it's on. Marquis and the entire O-line crowd around, followed by the rest of the offense, and I spend the next few minutes introducing everyone to my girl. To my surprise, they get along great. Sloane's normal reticence melts away under my teammates' enthusiasm, and she lets them see just a tiny bit of the woman behind the Black Widow. In turn, that helps them figure out we're not nearly as odd a match as they first envisioned. And the fact that she gives Marquis so much shit about the jumbotron only makes them like her more. But it's not long before Cole, one of the assistant offensive coaches, sticks his head into the hallway and says, "Three minutes until team meeting." His eyes go to Sloane. "I'll get out of your hair," she tells me, turning to Marco. "Where do we need to go?" "I don't want you to get out of my hair," I answer, but I'm already looking at Vince. Of course, Marco has already gone over everything with him, twice, but I don't give a shit. If it means keeping Sloane safe, I'll talk to as many people and take up as much time as I need to-and probably more. "Vince will show you guys to the box I got you," I say, waving a hand to get him to step forward from his spot near the door. "And he'll bring you back down after the game." "Okay." She waits until the rest of the team heads back to the locker room before leaning into me and whispering, "I've got plans for tonight, so do me a favor and don't break anything out there, all right?" I laugh, happier than I can remember being in a long-ass time. There's just something about having Sloane here in my stadium, with my friends and family, that feels good. Maybe because it makes this whole thing between us feel more real. Like she's not actually going to disappear the second I close my eyes. Considering she's been pushing me away from the moment we met, that's a huge realization on my part-and an even bigger concession on hers. "Something tells me your plans and my plans will dovetail nicely." I pull her against me, giving her another kiss, but a quick one this time. "I want to be with you a little longer, but I've got to go, corazón." "Who's keeping you?" she asks archly. "Go kick ass." "That is the plan." I nod to Marco and Jaime as I step away. "Good to see you guys." They nod back, then move to follow Vince and the other guards he's recruited to help get Sloane safely to her seat. I watch them go, smiling as Vince pulls out a Twisters hat for Sloane to put on, ostensibly to disguise that famous hair of hers. I'm not so sure it's going to work, though. Sloane is really difficult to miss. As soon as the door closes behind them, I duck back into the locker room with thirty seconds to spare before the meeting starts, just enough time to text Camila and Vivian that Sloane is on her way up. I hate that she's meeting my sisters and agent without me there, but I have no doubt abuela Ximena will monopolize Sloane's attention anyway. Ideally, the rest of them won't be able to get a word in edgewise. I settle down on the bench in front of my locker, grinning when Marquis and Drew both give me the nod of approval. Not that I need it, but it's nice to know they think we're solid. "What'd she get you?" Tyson asks from his spot on my right. "Not sure." I pull out the fancy paper at the top, then peer into the bag. But as soon as I see what she got me, I crack up. Because Sloane Walker, Black Widow and smart-ass extraordinaire, has bought me what I'm pretty sure is the tiniest pair of men's black leather underwear in existence. The fact that it has my face on the front and TOUCHDOWN! in huge letters across the back waist strap is pretty much the pièce de résistance of our little competition. "What's got you laughing your fool head off?" Marquis asks, brows raised. "No way." I slide the bag behind my back. If the guys get a load of these, I'll spend the rest of the season finding leather G-strings in my locker, in the ball room, up the flagpole... Bad move. I sparked his interest. Marquis grins, about to make a dive for me, I'm certain of it-but before he can, Coach walks in. Hell yeah. Saved by the pep talk. I grab my phone and text Sloane. Me: Where did you find these? Sloane: Turns out there's a naughty little corner of the internet dedicated to all things NFL. Sloane: Also, I win Me: Can I assume you have a matching pair? Sloane: I do Sloane: Win the game and you just might see them Because just the thought of Sloane in an itsy-bitsy black leather G-string-preferably without my face on it, if I'm being honest-has a pretty good chance of distracting me, I banish any and all ideas of what's going to happen once I get her back to my house and focus on the standard speech/prayer Branson delivers before every game. When he's done, I tuck my present into the corner of my locker before grabbing my helmet and mouth guard and filing down the hallway with the rest of the guys. "Don't worry," Drew tells me as he claps me on the back. "We've got you covered out there." I give him a look. "I thought that was a given." He grins. "Just sayin', it would be a real shame to see you get your ass kicked in front of your girl." "I appreciate it." I laugh back as we walk out of the tunnel and into the sunlight. "And," Marquis tells me as we hit the field, "we'll handle Grant's sorry ass, too." "Fuck yeah, we will," Drew agrees. I nod my thanks, and then we fall silent, because it's go time. One look at the already pissed-off defense tells me I'm going to need every ounce of protection my guys can provide. Game fucking on. Title: A Tangle of Love (English-dubbed) In "A Tangle of Love," a captivating romance unfolds within a unique observation show where participants navigate intricate relationships, love triangles, and power dynamics. Set against the backdrop of modern-day complexities, this ongoing series delves into themes of reincarnation, revenge, and personal transformation. Follow the journey of diverse characters as they grapple with misunderstandings and emotional conflicts while vying for love and success. As the drama unfolds, one couple emerges from the chaos, showcasing a remarkable glow-up that defies expectations. 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