Savior

Twenty-Four: Mia

I woke up around ten the next morning, much later than I usually slept, but apparently the previous day of travelling and barbeques had worn me out. I hadn't slept so sound in a long time, probably even before the breakup, though, judging by the butterflies still flitting around my stomach, the break-up idea wasn't going to stick. And as I rolled over and checked my phone, Wes appeared to be thinking the same thing.

"I hope you're still asleep, but I want you to know that I can't wait to see you."

"I sent something over for you and the girls to wear to the game. Should arrive soon."

"Okay, since when do you sleep past eight? Are you okay?"

"Mia? Seriously?"

I laughed brightly, imagining the crease in his brow as he typed his last message. I was sure he was already at the stadium, but I responded anyway: "I'm fine, you goof. Guess I was just worn out."

"Jesus . I almost told the team meeting to fuck off."

"Go to your meeting. I'm fine."

"Jazz has your delivery. She was at least answering me. 😜"

"I WAS IN A COMA OK? LAY OFF ME."

"Rather lay on you. 😉"

"Okay, Captain Smooth. Go to your meeting. I'll see you later."

"Not if I see you first."

"You won't. You'll be playing."

"Dammit."

I sent him a kissy face emoji and then texted Jazz to come over for brunch after I hopped in the shower. This was going to be a great day. I could feel it in my bones.

I would be the first person to admit Weston Price was a sexy man, but LORD, that man on the field was a completely different animal. Even with his face buried in a helmet, even way below me in the box we were whisked off to, the man exuded confidence and strength... and stone-cold sex appeal. Needless to say, I had a newfound affinity for football pants, or at least Wes Price in football pants.

Watching him do what he loved, watching him command a team of the burliest men I had ever seen, watching how steadfast and sure he was... I felt like I was falling for a different man. And maybe, in a way, I was. I hadn't known the athlete Wes for long, just a few months in college. Wes when we re-met was barely sober enough to compose a sentence, let alone successfully lead a football team. But this Wes? This man was so focused, so in control. I was awestruck.

Cammie, Jazz and I all sat in our brand-new Dolphins jerseys, PRICE 17 clearly emblazoned on the back, practically biting our nails as we watched the game. Cammie, unbeknownst to any of us, was apparently a huge football fan and spent a good deal of time explaining to Jazz and I exactly what was going on. The rest of the people in our box (mostly team significant others and friends) seemed more concerned with the open bar than they were the game. But not us. The only thing I was drunk on was the quarterback.

They beat the Browns (what kind of name is that by the way?) by fourteen, which judging by the reaction in the box was a huge deal. I was completely clueless that apparently, in recent history, the Dolphins hadn't been very good. This team and its fans were depending on Wes more than I could even comprehend. And with the roar that took over the stadium, it appeared his first game at the helm had proven him worthy of their faith. I watched as his team surrounded him, a couple of the guys hoisting him into the air. In that moment, I knew I had done the right thing. I knew that he needed to be here. I knew that they needed him as much as he needed them and my eyes grew all teary. This was the Wes Price the world had been waiting for, and my heart surged with pride for the small part I played in bringing them together.