Stacey’s POV:
The roar of the stadium was thunderous, echoing off the high ceilings and pulsing through the bleachers like a living heartbeat. Even from the upper tier, I could feel it vibrating in my chest, the electric buzz of adrenaline, tension, and pride.
But I wasn’t listening to the noise.
I was watching him.
Noah Blake.
Number 7.
Tall. Focused. Commanding.
He stood at the edge of the court, bouncing the ball once, twice, then handing it off to the ref. His face was all sharp lines and steel. No trace of the boy who kissed me with trembling fingers that night in the hospital hallway. No hint of the softness he showed when he whispered he wanted me by his side for this very moment.
He was all athlete now. All fire and hunger.
And he was magnificent.
Around me, the whispers
