I’ve played in packed arenas, taken hits from guys twice my size, and faced pressure most people never experience— but nothing frustrates me more than a damn tie.

I stood in front of the mirror, already dressed in the suit the team’s PR insisted I wear for the award ceremony. Everything was perfect except for the one thing I couldn’t seem to get right. I’d tried three times. Maybe four. The tie still looked like I’d fought it and lost.

I finally gave up and walked out toward the entrance, where I knew she’d be waiting.

And there she was—sitting in the lobby chair, leg crossed, looking up at me with that soft smile she saves only for me. Everyone else gets the version of me that’s cold, blunt, unbothered. But her? She turns me into something warmer without even trying.

She looked at my tie immediately. I knew she’d notice.

“You still don’t need help?” she teased, standing and brushing her hands off her dress.

I huffed out a breath—part annoyed, part embarrassed, but mostly relieved she was there. “I’m fine,” I muttered, even though we both knew I wasn’t.

She took my hand and guided me toward the limousine waiting outside. The moment we were out there, she tugged me gently by the lapels of my jacket.

“Come here,” she said softly.

I didn’t fight it.

She slid the tie around my collar with this easy confidence, her fingers brushing against my throat in a way that made me forget how to breathe for a second. I watched her—how focused she got, how careful her movements were. She always took her time with me.

When she tightened the knot perfectly, she smoothed her hands over my chest and looked up with a proud little smile.

I leaned down and kissed her—just a quick peck, but one that said more than anything I could’ve explained.

“Thank you,” I murmured against her lips.

She pulled back slightly, and I saw it—a soft grin spreading across her face as she admired her work. Before I could stop it, a smile tugged at my own mouth, dimples showing. She loves when that happens. Says it makes me look less intimidating.

“You look good,” she whispered.

I took her hand, threading my fingers through hers.

“Only because you’re here,” I said, letting her lead me toward the car.

And the truth is? I’d walk into any award ceremony, interview, or arena with the same confidence—as long as she’s the one beside me, tying my tie when I can’t.