Chapter 71 Two weeks later-the Super Bowl The second we get into the locker room at halftime, I reach for my phone to text Sloane. I know she's fine. The last time I checked, she was up in a box happily watching the game with my entire family. That doesn't mean I don't still worry about her, though. It's only been two weeks since she was near dead, and while she seemed good-if not a little jittery, I suppose on account of the big day-this morning, I haven't quite moved past the trauma of believing she wouldn't be. I take several long swigs of water as I wait impatiently for her answer. But nothing comes through. A new wave of unease crawls through me, but I tell myself it's no big deal. Sure, there are a shit ton of people here today, but Sloane's got a full security detail with her, not to mention my sisters and abuela. If something had happened to her, they'd be blowing up my phone by now. It's that thought more than any other that calms me down just in time for the coaches to come in and give their halftime talks. I put my phone away as I settle down to listen to what they've got to say. We're currently tied at fourteen, so I'm up for any ideas they've got to help get us past the other team's defense. The talk wraps up right around when the halftime show kicks off. I can tell it's started because the entire locker room is pulsing with the beat of a hit from the band Shaken Dirty, this year's performers. They're one of my favorites, actually, but I ignore the music as Branson comes over to talk to me about a few adjustments he wants to make for the second half. I take note and add an idea of my own before settling back down on the bench to check my phone again. Still nothing. The quiet from her is louder than the music pounding through the walls. I try to ignore it as I fire off a text in the family group chat, just a quick Everything okay? I really don't mean to nag, it's just that every time I close my eyes, I see Sloane collapsing on that stage, and for a split second my heart tries to imagine a world without her in it. And what a fucking nightmare that is. Shaken Dirty launches into their third song-a ballad this time-and Marquis flips on the huge TV in the corner. As their performance fills the room, I think Branson is going to object, but in the end he just goes back to talking to the defense. I guess even he can get in the festive spirit. "Hey! Come watch this," Marquis calls to the rest of the O-line. I stay by my locker, watching my phone, but a text comes in from Mariana saying everyone's fine, just watching the show. Relief sweeps through me, and I shove my phone in my back pocket as I make my way over to where Drew, Marquis, and a few of the other guys are gathered around the TV. I haven't been to a Shaken Dirty concert in a few years, and while this isn't quite the same, it's still one hell of a show. And then the music shifts-slow, haunting, utterly un-Shaken Dirty-like-and there she is. Sloane. My Sloane. Onstage, lit up like a dream and looking nothing like her typical Black Widow persona. "Hey, is that your girlfriend?" Drew asks as he moves closer to the TV. "Bet your ass it is," Marquis answers as he turns the sound up. Suddenly, half the team is gathered around the TV, watching my girl as she strides through the smoke and the lights like she owns the place. Instead of her normal black, Sloane's wearing a long, elegant white dress and has her hair pinned up to showcase the earrings I gave her the night of the party. She's even got a new pair of boots-a pair of white thigh-highs that look just as good as the black. "I didn't know she was performing," Drew says, shooting me a look. "Why didn't you say something?" I don't answer, because at the moment Sloane is beaming, glowing, her whole body lit up from the inside out as she looks straight at the cameras and starts to sway to the same melody I heard pouring out of her hospital room the morning she woke up. It's soft and sweet, lighter than a lot of her other songs, and it has me even before she starts to sing. Once she does... Once she does, her deep, sexy voice grabs the entire stadium, me included, in a chokehold. "It happened on a Sunday, when the first three notes arrived. A major chord that thundered through the silence I'd survived." Her big, brown eyes seem to stare straight through the camera and into mine with so much love that it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to walk out of the locker room and onto the field just to be near her. But if I do that, it'll cause a huge commotion, and that's the last thing I want. Not when Sloane is standing in front of a hundred million viewers and singing about me. About her, the real her. About us. "It happened on a Sunday, those three notes in my head. A wild run, a stolen kiss, long hours safe in bed." She grins now, and it looks like she's having the time of her life as the band launches into a faster, more complicated rhythm to usher in the chorus. "Let the light in on a Sunday, let the love come pouring in. Let the love in on a Sunday, let the light come pouring in. On a Sunday. On a Sunday." I don't know if the crowd knows what's going on, if they're responding to the words or just the electricity in the air. But by the time Sloane finishes up the chorus and starts on the second verse, it feels like the entire stadium is on their feet. And it's obvious Sloane is loving every second of it. "It happened on a Sunday, words splashed against a screen. The world appeared and in it peered through flowers and ice cream. It happened on a Sunday, a date, a kiss, a dream. Long midnight conversations and promises meant just for me. You let the light in on a Sunday, you let the love come pouring in. You let the love in on a Sunday and the light come pouring in on a Sunday. On a Sunday." "Holy shit!" Drew exclaims. "She's talking about you!" I'm too busy trying to catch my breath as Sloane launches into the bridge to respond. "You're it for me, the whole song through, bridges, codas, and trills. Your smiles, your love, our life is the richest kind of thrill. I never thought it could be like this, never dreamed of my last first kiss. But you're here now, baby, and you're mine, no maybes, and all I want is you...and our Sundays." My heart cracks open as she sings the last verse just for me. "Somehow, it happened on a Sunday, through all the laughter and the tears. A midnight melody I couldn't miss despite my deepest fears. It happened on a Sunday, through all the poison and the hate. You never left my side through the moments that felt like fate." The audience goes wild-there's no other word for the cheers and whistles and stomping. But Sloane doesn't notice. She's too caught up in the song to notice. And I'm too caught up in her and the love shining out of her eyes to pay any attention. But when she launches into the final chorus and the audience does their best to sing along with her, it's amazing to watch her realize what's happening. Her eyes go wide, her fingers fumble just a little on the microphone, and I swear I can see everything inside of her light up at the way the audience is taking her-no artifice, no Black Widow, no distant mask between her and them-into their hearts. "We let the light in on a Sunday, we let the love come pouring in. We let the love in on a Sunday and the light come pouring in on a Sunday, on a Sunday." "Holy shit," Levi breathes out as the music continues to play. "The Black Widow fucking loves you, man." "Yeah, she does," James agrees just as Sloane launches into the outro and nearly brings me to my knees. "Maybe even as much as you love her," Marquis ribs me, but I swear to God I see a mist in his eye. "Now when the sun comes through my window I know I'm not alone, because you happened on a Sunday and on Sunday I came home, on a Sunday, on a Sunday, on a Sunday." As she finishes the song, I reach for my phone. Then freeze, because suddenly the entire stadium fills with color as one question lights up every screen. MATEO SYLVESTER, WILL YOU MARRY ME? The locker room erupts in cheers at the same time the entire stadium does. As my knees buckle, I have to grab on to Marquis to keep from falling down. Even before the lead singer of Shaken Dirty yells into his mic, "Come on now, Sly. Don't leave the girl hanging." Sloane pulls out her phone, and I nearly drop mine three times as I try to text her. Finally I manage to write YES and I LOVE YOU and THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY MOVE. Sloane laughs and holds the phone up to the camera so they can see. "He said yes!" Marquis slaps me on my back so hard it nearly knocks me off my feet. He gives me the biggest, shit-eatingest grin yet and says, "You're fucking welcome." Shaken Dirty launches into one last song, and before I can say thank you to my best friend for changing my whole damn life, Branson turns the TV off. "Congratulations, son. Don't let it go to your head. You still have a Super Bowl to win." When the man's right, he's right, so I do just that. We score twenty-one unanswered points in the second half. And when it's finally done, when the clock has run out and the trophy's been presented, Sloane rushes the field with the other team WAGs. I pick her up and spin her around and around, and the smile she gives me is all happiness and no pain and easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. At least until she leans in to kiss me and whispers, "Bet you can't top that," against my lips. "Maybe not," I answer with a laugh. "But I look forward to spending the rest of our lives giving it a shot. I love the hell out of you, Sloane Walker." "I love the hell out of you right back, Mateo Sylvester." And then I kiss her, really kiss her, and no other touchdown in my life has ever felt this good. 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. What sets "A Tangle of Love" apart is its blend of billionaire lifestyles, contemporary romance dynamics, and the allure of second chances. Dive into this enthralling narrative available to read online at CrushReel for a compelling exploration of love's complexities in a world where power and passion collide.