The next day, we wake up early. When I say early, I mean early. He wakes up before the damn sun even gets up and rolls over to kiss me. He kisses the back of my neck and I groan, attempting to stay in the dream I’m having about our beautiful future. He kisses me again and I’m up.

“Okay, okay,” I grunt. “I’m getting up.”

He places his body over mine and kisses my cheek this time. I can feel his hard cock against my navel, and I glance down at the massive beast. “Jackson…” I moan. “Not now.”

“Now.” He smiles. “You want me to play well out there today, don’t you?”

I can’t fake a protest. I want him too bad. He enters me, fucks my brains out, makes me cum, and then cums himself. At this point, I’m ready to spread my legs every morning for him if it means having his mouth work its magic. I’ve never met a man who was so… hungry for me.

We take a shower and hop into a private van that takes us both to the game. Inside the car, everything is quiet. The driver asks if we want any music, anything to put Jackson in the right headspace. But he doesn’t need that. He tells me, “All I need is this woman next to me. Thanks.”

I look at him now, calm and poised. He’s sitting up straight, breathing steady, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s ready to win this. Today is the Super Bowl, one of the biggest, most-watched games in the world. Crazy enough, all eyes will be glued to Jackson. He’s the most talked about player right now. There are still doubts from the media as to whether or not he’ll even play.

The van slows down and the automatic doors slide open. Before he can go into the locker room, he grabs me and throws me into his arms. His lips press against mine and I close my eyes. My whole world has changed in a matter of days. This is the start of my new life.

“Kill it out there,” I tell him.

“What if I don’t win?” he asks me.

“If you don’t win this game, the wedding is off for good.” I smile, joking with him.

“Wow, such pressure.” He kisses me one last time, until Landon pulls up.

“Hey brother,” he says, jumping out of his car.

“The two all-star players.” I smile.

He laughs. “Ready to take on New England?”

Jackson slams his palm against his back and they hug it out. “I’m ready, man. We’re going to destroy them.”

New England has won the last three Super Bowls. Even with Jackson’s stats, they’re poised to take the trophy. Like I said, all eyes are on Jackson. Can he win it for the Black Wings? Will Portland finally win a championship game? I have all the faith in the world.

As I watch them enter the locker room, I feel my heart swell. I look down at my ring, shining against the sunlight, and everything just makes sense. The stress I normally carry has completely disappeared. All I have within me now is sense of hope.

Hopeful. That’s a new word for my vocabulary. I never really felt that way before. Before I gave Jackson that second chance, I really just wanted to make it through the day. My life was just filled with work, work, and more work.

As I walk through the front of the stadium, I show my media pass and get let in. I hear the roaring scream of thousands of people who have come to watch the biggest football game in history. I have to imagine that most have come because of the prestige of the Super Bowl, but I know the pressure that Jackson is under.

I hear their heels stomping on the bleachers and I feel so excited for Jackson. I’m also scared as all hell. It’s not that I don’t believe in him. I just want him to win so bad that it’s starting to freak me out a little.

I make my way onto the field, to the press side. Jennifer is standing there, holding the press badge I got her. She nearly jumps up and down when she sees me. “I can’t believe you got me this thing!” she exclaims.

“It was easy,” I laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So, what’s up with Jackson?” she asks. “Still heartbroken or what?”

“You didn’t watch the Sports Network yesterday?” I ask her, biting my tongue. “Did you see what he called in?”

“No,” she says blankly. “What happened? Oh my God, did he flip out on the host or something? He’s so much trouble sometimes.”

All I have to do is hold up my left hand and she stops dead in her tracks. “No,” she says. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. ‘Cause it’s real.” I smile.

“No!” she shouts. Some of the press turns to look at us. “I just can’t.” She starts to bawl, tears flowing down her face.

“What’s wrong?” I laugh. “I didn’t think you’d cry!”

“I’m not sad,” she says, blowing her nose. “I’m just so happy.”

“Oh, girl.” I grab her and give her the biggest hug of my life. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Uh huh.” She nods and blows her nose once more. “How did you find a man before me? How’d you do it?”

I shrug. “Beats me.”

“Ugh, I told you to fuck his brains out. I didn’t say you should marry the guy,” she laughs. “Tell me, is the sex really that good?”

“You’d die if you knew. It’s like having sex with The Rock,” I say.

“You bitch! You know how much I love The Rock,” she laughs.

The whistle blows and music starts rattling the bleachers. Fireworks blast off into the sky as both teams come shooting onto the field like human bullets. This is the biggest day in their lives, and it all comes down to this moment. I can only imagine what Jackson is feeling right now.

He comes out last, running at a slow pace. He throws off his helmet and pumps a fist at the crowd. The reaction is stupendous and unreal. Fans from both sides go wild. Everyone is cheering. It seems as if people from all walks of life have been following the story of Jackson Leeman this season. That’s my man.

New England kicks off to Portland, and the ball falls straight into Jackson’s hand. He goes running, making it halfway across the field. A defensive player comes in and tackles his legs. He falls stretching his arms out in front of him. They bring it in to discuss the next play.

The rest of the game goes according to plan. A play later Jackson’s running his way into the end zone, scoring the first points of the game. New England, however, doesn’t back down. They play their hardest and it’s neck and neck.

By halftime, it’s anybody’s game. Before he enters that locker room, he meets me on the side of the field. He kisses me deeply and I grab him and hold him close. “You’re going to get my sweat all over you,” he laughs.

“It’s not like it’s the first time,” I joke back.

“How am I doing out there?” he asks, knowing full well what I’ll say.

“You’re killing them. Just keep at it. Your defense needs to go harder though.”

“I don’t know if we’ll do it,” he says. “They’re just as good as us.”

“They’re not as good as you, though. No one on that team is a match against you. I think everyone in the crowd knows it too. It’s like they’re here for you only,” I say.

“They probably hate me,” he sighs.

“They love you,” I repeat. “Just keep playing hardball and you’ll win this.”

He kisses me and makes his way to that locker room. All I can do is hope for the best. It’s all come down to this day.

* * *

The halftime show is complete madness. Huge bands play with two known female pop stars, women I’ve never seen in my life before, but the crowd is completely familiar with them and riled up.

The players make their way back onto the field and Jackson’s side is up first. They go back into it, harder than ever. Jackson is playing as if his life depends on it. Every play he makes, he looks over at me as if I’m the one issuing the points.

On their third down, he looks serious. He’s only ten yards from the end zone and it’s pretty obvious they’ll make it. They always do. Still, the opposing defense is going strong. They’re determined to block him the whole damn way if they have to.

“Hike!” Loke screams and drops back, examining the field. Jackson pushes past the line and is wide open. Loke throws the pigskin to him and he catches it near the end zone. He dives and he’s in! They score and the crowd goes nuts. Only, a linebacker comes barreling in. He connects against Jackson and slams him into the grass. When the guy gets up, Jackson doesn’t move.

“Get up,” I whisper. But he still doesn’t move. He’s out cold. “Get up!” I scream.

“It’ll be okay, baby girl,” Jennifer whispers. “He’s fine. He just got hit a little hard.”

“Come on, Jackson!” I scream. The whole crowd is doing the same.

The medic rushes onto the field and looks into his eyes. It doesn’t look good. It doesn’t look like he’s even moving.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jennifer says again, almost out of habit. But I’m not so sure. What if he’s injured forever? What if they take him out of the game? There are just too many questions to ask. I find myself having to sit back against a sidewall. This is not what I imagined would happen. Jackson never gets hurt.

The medic shakes his head and I feel my heart collapse. Is it over for Jackson Leeman? Does he have to throw in the towel? I look at my ring. “Come on Jackson. Get up. You can do this,” I whisper, practically praying. “Do it for me.”