This is the explosive sequel to "To Capture a Heart."
***
Some truths ruin lives. Others set them free.
***
Veronica had it all-until, in the span of a few brutal days, she lost everything.
The fallout is fierce. Tensions are at a breaking point. Lo...
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She wasn't there.
I scanned the stands again before the game started, slow and desperate, but no Veronica. No messy ponytail or that sarcastic smirk she wore like a shield. Not even a glimpse.
And I knew I shouldn't be surprised.
Still... some part of me kept hoping.
I kept looking.
The locker room before kickoff had been louder than usual—guys hyped up, music blaring, Jace bouncing on his toes like he'd had three too many energy drinks. But I'd been quiet. Focused. Or pretending to be.
Coach had given a speech about grit and pride, and legacy. I hadn't heard half of it. I kept thinking about that letter. About the way she kissed me, and I couldn't kiss her back. About how she looked at me like she was already halfway gone.
I wanted to believe in us.
But how do you hold onto someone who's already let go?
The roar of the crowd hit me the moment I stepped onto the field. It was deafening, alive—like the entire stadium was breathing with me. Championship night. Everything I'd worked for, bled for, dreamed about—it all came down to this.
The air smelled of cut grass and adrenaline, and I swear I could feel every eye in the stands locked onto us. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension, but it wasn't just nerves—it was something bigger. Pride. Purpose. The weight of years of hard work stitched into the fabric.
I scanned the crowd out of habit, out of hope. And for a split second—I swear—I saw him.
A dark figure near the back of the bleachers, hoodie up, unmoving. Watching.
Max.
My chest tightened.
But then someone moved in front of him. The figure was gone. Or maybe had never been there in the first place.
I shook my head.
Max was suspended. Officially removed from the roster after the drug charges stuck.
No one's seen him since he got out. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near this game.
Still...It's hard to forget the shape of someone who once tried to ruin everything you love.
I looked away. Refocused.
Veronica wasn't here.
And the field suddenly felt a little colder because of it.
***
The game was a blur. I played like a ghost.
Completed passes. Hit a goal. Heard the cheers. But I wasn't in it.
Not really.
Every time I looked at the bleachers, my chest caved in a little more.
