Chapter Text
The confetti rained down, but it wasn’t red and gold. Green and white swirled through the air, a brutal reminder of what had just happened. The scoreboard glowed through the haze: 34-20. The Chiefs had lost the Super Bowl.
Travis stood on the field, helmet still in his hand, his fingers gripping the facemask so tightly that his knuckles ached. He barely registered the roar of the crowd, the cheers of the other team, the sound of fireworks exploding overhead. It was the worst kind of silence—one where the noise was deafening, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the words running through his mind: Not this time.
He had been here before. He had won. He had lost. But this time, it felt different. He wasn’t sure why—maybe because he had fought so damn hard to get here, or maybe because, deep down, he knew he didn’t have many more of these left in him. This was supposed to be the redemption arc. This was supposed to be his moment. But instead, it was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, impossible to hold on to no matter how tightly he tried to grasp it.
A heavy hand clapped his back, jolting him from his thoughts. He turned to see Patrick, his face set in a grim expression. “Hell of a season, brother,” Mahomes said, voice rough with exhaustion.
Travis nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He gave Pat a brief, one-armed hug, then let him go celebrate—or mourn—with his family. The field felt too big now, too empty, despite the chaos surrounding him. His feet felt rooted in place, unwilling to move, as if acknowledging that leaving the field meant accepting the finality of what had happened.
His eyes searched for her before he even realized he was looking. Taylor. She was there, just beyond the sideline, waiting for him. Their eyes met, and in an instant, the weight in his chest loosened just a fraction. It was as if she had known he needed her before he even did. He started toward her, cutting through the crowd of players and reporters who were hunting for soundbites. He didn’t have anything left to give them. He just needed her.
Taylor didn’t say anything when he reached her. She didn’t have to. She just wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he finally let his head drop against her shoulder. She smelled like home, like warmth, like everything good in the world that had nothing to do with football. The noise around them faded into the background, nothing else mattering except the quiet space they had created between them.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered against his ear, her fingers running soothingly along the back of his neck. “You left it all out there.”
“I wanted this one,” he admitted, voice barely audible over the din of the celebration happening a few yards away. “I really, really wanted this one.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands framing his face. “I know,” she said softly. “And I know it hurts. But this? This doesn’t change a thing about who you are. Not to me.”
His throat tightened, and he exhaled sharply, nodding. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He just kissed her forehead, then rested his own against it, letting the moment ground him.
The loss still stung, and it would for a long time. He knew that there would be sleepless nights, moments when he would replay every missed opportunity, every mistake, over and over in his head. The doubt would creep in, the questions about how much longer he could do this, if he still had what it took.
As they walked toward the tunnel, Travis glanced over his shoulder one last time, letting his gaze linger on the field, the confetti now damp against the turf, the fading echoes of celebration. Would he be back? Could he keep going? The questions pressed against his ribs, heavy and insistent.
Taylor squeezed his hand, her grip steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she murmured. “One step at a time.”
He swallowed hard and nodded. She was right. Tonight wasn’t about making decisions about the future—it was about getting through the moment, about knowing he wasn’t alone. They moved through the corridors of the stadium, past the cameras and reporters waiting for post-game reactions, past the security guards who nodded sympathetically as he passed.
The locker room was eerily quiet when he stepped inside. Some of his teammates sat in silence, others angrily stuffing gear into bags, processing the loss in their own ways. Travis sank onto the bench in front of his locker, running a hand down his face, exhaustion settling into his bones. His body ached in ways he knew wouldn’t heal overnight. His heart ached in ways that might never fully heal.
Minutes passed, maybe longer. Eventually, he stepped out of the locker room, into the tunnel where she was waiting for him. He exhaled and reached for her hand again. “Let’s go home,” he said, his voice rough but resolute.
Home. The word felt more real now, more necessary than ever. Football had been his life for so long, but as he looked at Taylor, he realized something important: the game would end one day, but this—her, them—this was forever.
As they stepped out of the tunnel and into the night, the weight of the loss still clung to him, but it was no longer unbearable. He had Taylor. He had a future beyond the game. And for now, that was enough.
Throughout the season, the question of retirement had lingered at the edge of his mind. It wasn’t a conversation he had just with himself—he and Taylor had talked about it more than once. Over dinner, on quiet nights at home, even during the chaos of game weeks, she had asked him gently, "What do you think? How are you feeling about all of this?" And each time, he had struggled to give her an answer.
There were days when he was certain he wasn’t ready to walk away. He still loved the game, still felt the fire that had burned in him since he was a kid. But there were also days when his body ached too much, when he wondered how many more hits he could take, how much longer he could push himself. Taylor had listened every time, never pushing him in one direction or the other. She knew this had to be his decision.
Now, after this loss, the decision loomed larger than ever. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he had an answer.