“I love them,” she says softly. “I love being here. I love thenoise. I even love the dirt, and I love that your mom still looks at all of you like you’re still her babies.”
I tighten my grip on her hand and place a kiss on her forehead. “They love you too, Eva.”
And I mean it. You don’t do fake with the Griffiths.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad and the life he’s built for us in New York, but I understand now. I understand what you were trying to protect. Being part of a family like this is different. There’s a line that doesn’t break no matter how hard things get.”
Her words hit hard.
“You’re the girl of my dreams, Eva Carrington,” I whisper into the dark silk of her hair. “You’re my everything, and I’ll spend however long I have on this earth trying to be worthy of you.”
Eva turns her face up to mine, a beautiful smile breaking across her lips as she reaches up to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin.
“I know,” she says, smiling. “But I gotta ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Were you a leash kid?” She tries to hold in her laugh but fails.
I shake my head and laugh. I hope she never stops giving me shit.
“Now kiss me like you mean it,” she says against my lips.
I cup her cheek, and my mouth falls onto hers in a deep, unhurried kiss, not caring that my family is around us. The bonfire roars before us, the sparks flying high into the endless night sky, but as I hold the face of the woman I love, everything else fades. There’s no pressure, no fear, just the quiet warmth of our kiss, holding me exactly where I was always meant to be.
EPILOGUE
THREE YEARS LATER
EVA
As the finalhome game of the season wraps up, the stadium is vibrating with the energy of eighty thousand fans celebrating a division-clinching season in the freezing winter air.
I’m standing just off the thirty-yard line on the turf, my headset tight against my ears. Usually, as a senior producer, I’d be up in a glass booth or buried in the control room. But tonight was a big game for Aston, and I wanted to be on the field whether they won or lost. My eyes lock on him, and I can see the steam from his body against the cold air from here.
His hair is matted with sweat, his jersey torn and bloody, and his shoulders are still heaving from the heavy physical toll of the fourth quarter. He’s surrounded by media crews, flashing cameras, and athletes milling around the field. But even with all the noise, I still feel drawn to him.
Watching him breathe in the freezing air, my chest feels so tight with love that it almost aches.
“Eva, you copy?” Sam’s voice cracks through my headset. I turn to look at her just a few feet away, and her eyes catch mine, and she gives me a wink. “I’m ready to go live.”
I press the talkback button on my belt pack. “We’re going straight to the live field feed on camera two. Give Aston the primary mic.”
“Actually, boss. I’m deviating from the script on this one.”
Before I can question her through her headset, the jumbotron screens flash, cutting away from the reel that was playing.
I watch Sam walk straight up to Aston on the thirty-yard line, her heavy winter coat zipped up to her chin, her mic flagged with our network logo. But instead of holding the microphone to her mouth to ask about the game-winning play, Sam turns to face camera two, then points her finger directly at me, where I’m standing on the sideline.
“We’re here with Aston Griffith,” Sam’s voice booms over the stadium’s PA system, completely taking over the broadcast layout. “And tonight we’re doing things a little differently. It is my absolute honor to inform our producer, Eva Carrington—who is standing over there on the Titans sideline that we have something special planned. Eva, this one’s for you.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I feel frozen on the turf, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Sam smiles at me, then steps back, clearing the camera frame, but not before handing the network microphone into Aston’s gloved hand.
The entire stadium goes from a dull, post-game hum to an absolute deafening crescendo of cheers as the crowd looks from the jumbotron to where I’m standing.
Aston stands in the center of the field, Liam and Brody behind him. He looks directly at me and drops his helmet onto the turf.
