Chapter 68
Hayes's POV
I showered and changed into a clean dark gray henley and jeans.
I'd just reached for my jacket when Tyler and his crew closed in like sharks smelling blood.
"Whoa—" Tyler dragged out the word, leaning against the locker with that knowing look. "You trying to make an early escape?"
I ignored him, shoving my phone into my pocket.
"Downtown bar's already reserved." Jamal jingled his car keys. "Tonight we celebrate, Hayes. That throw you made deserves league-wide headlines."
Someone nearby immediately chimed in: "And you finally looked like a living human being out there."
The locker room erupted again.
I kept my head down, organizing my wrist guards, voice flat. "You guys go."
Tyler's eyes went wide.
"Wait—you're not coming?!"
"You carried the entire game today."
"You used to love post-game drinking and film review—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because he saw I'd already picked up my car keys, clearly actually planning to leave.
Two seconds of silence.
Then the entire locker room exploded.
"Holy shit!!"
"Hayes is turning down the victory party?!"
"It's over—someone's more important than football now!"
Jamal lost it completely: "I knew it! This man's definitely rushing home to see his woman!"
I finally looked up at him. "You got a death wish?"
Tone still flat, but I couldn't suppress the smile tugging at my mouth.
The locker room went quiet for a beat.
Next second, everyone got even louder with the teasing.
Because they hadn't seen me like this in way too long.
Tyler shook his head, laughing: "Bros, Hayes is completely gone."
I didn't bother with them anymore. Grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.
But as I reached it, someone shouted from behind:
"Hey—happy birthday, Hayes!"
My steps paused briefly.
Then more voices joined in.
"Happy early birthday!"
"Don't ghost us!"
"Remember to come back to practice, loverboy!"
I let out a low laugh, didn't turn around, just pushed through the door.
And then saw her in the hallway.
The teammates were still celebrating, but I needed to get out. Needed to find her.
I grabbed my duffel and pushed open the locker room door—
And nearly collided with Sienna standing outside.
She was clearly startled, took a step back, holding a water bottle in her hands.
"The medical staff asked me to bring this over," she said quickly, her face already red.
I looked at her.
Ears flushed, eyes averted, fingers gripping the water bottle tightly.
She definitely heard the teasing inside.
"Thanks." I took the bottle, my fingers accidentally brushing hers.
She immediately jerked her hand back like she'd been shocked.
We stood in the corridor, the air suddenly very quiet. The laughter and noise from the locker room became muffled background sound.
I should say something.
"Let's go home together." I heard myself say.
Home.
Sienna froze.
"I—" she started, her voice trembling slightly. "Okay."
Just one word.
But it was enough.
I turned back to the locker room to grab my jacket, unable to suppress the smile tugging at my mouth.
Because I was in too damn good a mood.
---
Sienna's POV
Hayes drove with his right hand relaxed on the wheel, his left arm resting against the window. I watched the city blur past, hyperaware of the silence between us—not the tense, suffocating kind, but something quieter. Almost comfortable.
He looked tired. The kind of tired that settled into shoulders and jaw after three hours of getting hit by men who weighed three hundred pounds.
I'd almost forgotten this detail. How he always went quiet after games. How the adrenaline would drain out slowly, leaving behind exhaustion and the dull ache of bruises that wouldn't show up until morning.
"You were forcing it on that fourth-quarter sprint," I said, keeping my voice low. "Too much weight on the right leg."
He glanced at me briefly, then back at the road. "Yeah."
A pause.
"But the shoes helped," he added. "Felt more stable than anything I've worn in two years."
My chest tightened. It wasn't praise—not really. It was acknowledgment. Recognition of my work, yes, but also of me. Of what I'd been doing for him, even when we weren't talking about it.
The light turned red. Hayes stopped the car, his fingers drumming once against the steering wheel before going still.
I turned to look at him properly. "Tired?"
His mouth curved slightly. Not quite a smile, but close. "Someone was cheering pretty loud in the technical zone."
Heat rushed to my face. I looked away, suddenly fascinated by the traffic light turning green.
He didn't push. Just drove.
By the time we pulled into the garage, my heart was beating too fast for someone who'd spent the last twenty minutes sitting still.
---
"Go upstairs first," I said quickly as soon as we were inside. "I'll—just give me half an hour."
Hayes turned back with a questioning look.
"Please?" I added, probably too desperately.
He studied me for a beat, then nodded slowly. "Alright."
I waited until I heard his footsteps reach the second floor before sprinting toward the kitchen.
Cindy had left everything perfectly arranged—ingredients prepped, oven preheated, a handwritten note with timing reminders tucked beside the stove. You've got this, sweetheart. He'll love whatever you make.
I checked the lemon tart I'd baked before leaving. The glaze had set beautifully, the surface smooth and glossy under the kitchen lights.
I added butter to the pan, watching it melt and bubble in the heat. The steak hit the surface with a satisfying sizzle, the scent of searing meat filling the air immediately. I used tongs to flip it, ensuring both sides achieved that perfect caramelized crust—medium rare, just how he liked it.
I focused on controlling the heat. No sauce, just the simplest sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.
After the steak came out to rest on the cutting board, I turned to handle the vegetables and potatoes in the oven. The aroma of asparagus and Brussels sprouts coated in olive oil and garlic slices wafted out, the potato skins already turned golden and crispy.
Finally, I lit the candles Cindy had left out. Stepped back to survey the table.
It looked… intimate. Too intimate. Like I was trying to say something I didn't have permission to say yet.
Too late now.
I heard his footsteps on the stairs.