Chapter 175

Chapter 175
Sienna's POV

The field was chaos. Players were crying and hugging and dumping Gatorade on their coaches. Confetti continued to fall like golden snow, and the sound system was blasting music that was completely drowned out by the crowd noise.

In the middle of it all, Hayes was on his knees, his hands covering his face, his shoulders shaking with emotion. Tyler and Jamal pulled him to his feet and into a group hug, all three of them crying openly.

The trophy presentation felt surreal. The NFL commissioner handed the Vince Lombardi Trophy to the team owner, then to the head coach, and finally to Hayes as the team captain. When Hayes lifted that gleaming silver trophy above his head, the stadium erupted again, and I felt a surge of pride so intense it nearly knocked me over.

"And the Super Bowl MVP is... Hayes Sterling!" the announcer declared, and somehow the crowd got even louder.

Hayes took the microphone with shaking hands, the trophy cradled in his other arm like a baby. "This is for my team, my city, and the woman who believed in me," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

The security guards were already escorting us down to field level, through a maze of concrete corridors and past crowds of media and team personnel. When we finally emerged onto the field, the noise hit me like a physical blow. It was even louder down here, more chaotic, more overwhelming.

Hayes was surrounded by reporters and cameras, but when he saw me approaching the barrier that separated the field from the stands, he broke away from the crowd and ran toward me.

He tried to lift me over the barrier and spin me around, but his right leg buckled slightly and we nearly fell together. I caught him, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Watch your leg!" I shouted over the noise.

"I don't care," he shouted back, pulling me against him anyway and managing a small spin on his good leg. "We did it, we did it together."

Then he kissed me, right there in front of sixty-five thousand people and a television audience of over a hundred million. It was deep and desperate and full of everything we'd been through together—the separation, the reunion, the love that had never really died.

The cameras were flashing all around us, but I didn't care. This was our moment.

When we finally broke apart, Hayes knelt down and pulled off his right cleat, holding it up for me to see. The leather was scuffed and stained with grass and dirt, but every stitch was still perfect.

"This," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is what carried me through. Your hands, your heart, your genius."

I covered my mouth with my hands, completely overwhelmed. The crowd around us was cheering and applauding, but all I could see was my husband, my champion, holding up the boot I'd made with my own hands.

Ophelia appeared beside us and pulled Hayes into a gentle embrace. "I'm so proud of you, my boy," she said, her voice barely audible over the noise.

Ava jumped on Hayes's back, nearly knocking him over. "You're a legend now, bro!"

But through it all, Hayes kept one arm around me, never letting me go.

---

The celebration at the downtown hotel lasted until well past midnight. Hayes was pulled from interview to interview, from photo to photo, but he insisted I stay by his side through all of it. My hand was in his during every conversation, and he introduced me to everyone as "my wife, the genius who made this possible."

By one in the morning, we were finally able to slip away. His assistant drove us home through streets still crowded with celebrating fans, the city alive with the joy of its first championship in over a decade.

In the back seat, Hayes had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, his head leaning back against the leather with exhaustion and satisfaction. I was curled up against his side, my fingers tracing the outline of his fire spark tattoo through his shirt.

"Tired?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Exhausted," I admitted. "But happy. So, so happy."

"Hayes, your knee. Did the doctors check it after the game?" I continued.

He squeezed my hand. "They did. It's a mild sprain, nothing structural. I'll need to ice it for a week and do some PT, but I'll be fine."

I studied his face. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I promise," he said solemnly. "If it was serious, I wouldn't hide it from you. Not after everything."

When we finally pulled into our driveway, Buddy was waiting for us at the door, his tail wagging so hard his whole body was shaking. Hayes knelt down to pet him, laughing as the dog tried to lick his face.

"Hey, boy. Did you watch the game?"

I kicked off my heels—I'd been wearing them for nearly twelve hours—and collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of relief. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted but deeply, profoundly happy.

Hayes noticed my discomfort immediately and sat down beside me, pulling my feet into his lap and beginning to massage them gently.

"Hayes, you're the one who just played the Super Bowl," I protested. "You should be resting."

"I'm fine," he said, his thumbs working magic on my aching arches. "But you've been on your feet all day."

Tears sprang to my eyes again—I seemed to be crying at everything tonight. "How do you always notice these things?"

He looked up at me with that soft smile that was reserved only for me. "Because I love you. Every part of you."

After he finished with my feet, we made our way upstairs to our bedroom. Hayes sat on the edge of the bed and carefully removed his boots—the same boots I'd spent two months perfecting, now scuffed and grass-stained from the biggest game of his life.

"Can I tell you something?" I asked as I changed into pajamas.

"Anything."

"When you got hit in the third quarter, and you didn't get up right away... I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could see was you lying there."

Hayes was beside me in an instant, pulling me into his arms. "I'm sorry I scared you. But baby, I'm here. I'm safe."

I gripped his shirt tightly. "Promise me. Promise me you'll always come back to me."

He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. "I promise. No matter what, I'll always come back to you. You're my home, you're everything."

I settled back into his arms, feeling the tension finally leave my body. We lay there in comfortable silence, holding each other close, until sleep began to claim us both.