Chapter 171
Chapter 171
Sienna's POV
The final two weeks of preparation took on an almost sacred quality. In the workshop, I made microscopic adjustments based on three games' worth of data, recalibrating the interior support angle from twelve degrees to eleven point seven, replacing worn carbon fiber plates with fresh ones that would give Hayes every possible advantage.
Meanwhile, Hayes disappeared into the team's Super Bowl preparation bubble. Our nightly video calls showed me a man transforming before my eyes—the dark circles under his eyes deepening each day, but his gaze growing sharper, more focused, like a blade being honed to its finest edge.
On February ninth, I sat in the workshop under the bright lights, hand-stitching a line of tiny letters into the tongue of his boots: Come home safe. My fingers ached from the precision work, but every stitch felt like a prayer.
The next morning, I delivered the final version to Hayes at the training facility. He laced them up and took a few practice steps on the turf, then stopped abruptly and looked at me with something approaching awe.
"Perfect," he said quietly. "They're perfect."
I walked over to him, reaching up to straighten the collar of his practice jersey. "Promise me you'll be careful out there."
He caught my hands in his, bringing my fingertips to his lips. "I promise. And when I win, the first thing I'll do is find you."
As he carefully placed the boots back in their protective case, his movements held the reverence of a man handling sacred relics.
Six weeks of preparation, countless hours of work, and infinite amounts of hope had led us to this moment. Tomorrow, Hayes would take the field wearing boots that carried not just my craftsmanship, but my heart. And I would be in the stands, watching the man I loved chase his dreams on feet I'd helped heal.
---
Game Day Morning
The alarm hadn't even sounded when Hayes stirred beside me. February eleventh had arrived with the weight of destiny, and his internal clock had been counting down to this moment for months. I felt him shift in the pre-dawn darkness, his body tense with anticipation even in sleep.
I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my bare shoulder. Morning light filtered through our bedroom curtains, casting everything in soft gold, and for a moment the magnitude of the day ahead felt manageable.
"What time is it?" I asked, my voice still rough with sleep.
"Six thirty. You can sleep more—I don't need to leave until eight."
I shook my head, turning to face him fully. My hand found the familiar landscape of his chest, mapping the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I want to make you breakfast. It's a big day."
Hayes caught my hand, intertwining our fingers. "Baby, you've already done so much. Those boots—"
"The boots are my job," I interrupted, meeting his gaze steadily. "Breakfast is because I love you. Let me do this."
Something shifted in his expression, a softness that he reserved only for our most private moments. He pulled me closer, his chin resting on top of my head. "Okay. But I'm helping."
We moved through our morning routine with the easy synchronization of two people who'd learned to read each other's rhythms. Hayes pulled on sweatpants and a training shirt while I slipped into one of his old jerseys—the fabric soft from countless washes, "STERLING 12" faded but still visible across my shoulders.
In the kitchen, I worked at the stove while Hayes moved behind me, his arms circling my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. "Nervous?" he asked quietly.
I paused in my stirring, considering the question. "Terrified," I admitted. "But not for the game. For you."
He turned me around to face him, his hands framing my face with infinite gentleness. "I'll be fine. I have you with me."
His fingers touched his left ribs, then gestured toward our feet. "Here, and here. You're everywhere."
---
At seven forty-five, we made our way to the garage where Hayes's equipment bag waited on the workbench like a soldier's kit before deployment. Despite having checked them the night before, and the night before that, I insisted on one final inspection of his boots.
Under the bright LED work light, I examined every stitch, every carbon fiber support piece, every precisely placed eyelet.
Hayes leaned against his car, watching me with fond amusement. "You checked them last night. And the night before. And—"
"Shut up," I said without looking up. "This is my process."
When I was satisfied, I carefully placed the boots back in their protective case, my hands lingering on the zipper pull as I took a deep breath. The weight of everything we'd worked toward pressed down on my shoulders.
Hayes moved behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders with familiar warmth. "Baby, talk to me. What's really bothering you?"
I turned to face him, and the words spilled out before I could stop them. "I keep thinking about the divisional game. When you got hit, and your knee twisted—I thought—"
The sentence died in my throat, but Hayes understood. He pulled me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head. "I know. I know you were scared. But I'm still here, aren't I?"
I fisted my hands in his shirt, my voice barely above a whisper. "Promise me if something feels wrong, you'll stop. Don't be a hero. Just come back to me."
Hayes cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn't realize had fallen. "I promise. But Sienna, you have to trust me—and trust what you built. Those boots are part of me now. They'll keep me safe."
The sound of Bobby's car horn cut through our moment, sharp and insistent in the morning air. Hayes pressed one final kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips before picking up his equipment bag.
"I'll see you after the game, champion's girlfriend," he said, his voice carrying a confidence that made my heart skip.
I managed a watery smile, pushing him gently toward the door. "Go. Don't be late."
He paused at the threshold, looking back at me with an expression I'd remember for the rest of my life. "Baby?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. More than any trophy."
"I love you too. Now go win that damn game."