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I swallow. “Just for tonight, can we forget the fake part?”

I can’t believe I asked him that. But even with my heart pounding and the silence stretching around us, I don’t want to take it back.

Finn reads my reaction, his features melting as if he understands my internal battle. And, in typical Finn fashion, he knows what I need.

“I already have, Pop,” he says, leaning up and kissing me softly.

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me beneath him, hovering over me with a look on his face that means more to me than any word or ring ever could.

Like I matter. Like he sees me. Like I mean something real to him … just like he does to me.

It’s exactly what my heart needs.

I place my hand on the side of his face. “Remember when I asked you to be less perfect?”

He grins. “Yeah.”

“Don’t listen to me.”

He chuckles, sliding his cock into me. “I didn’t plan on it.”

His lips find mine, and I melt into him, giving up all excuses and bullshit reasons I should keep us apart. Because that’s exactly what they are—bullshit excuses to keep myself safe.

Why would I do that when the safest I’ve ever been is in this man’s arms?

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Exposé Top Story: Caught in the Act

Our favorite football hottie was spotted out for a sweet treat earlier this week with his new fiancée and an adorable toddler.

(We’re 99 percent sure the cutie pie is the daughter of former Legends wide receiver Branch Best and Miller’s sister, Layla James.)

Can we have a moment for that rock on her left hand?

Sources tell us that the woman who managed to snag football’s most eligible bachelor is none other than Layla James’s best friend, Poppy Quinn. We don’t know much about her (yet), other than she’s from Colorado and works as an insurance executive. But don’t worry, we’re wearing our investigative hats and will follow up with our findings.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

Finn

The evening air is warm, but there’s a chill to it. Clouds roll across the sky in dark, angry-looking masses. Thunder rumbles off into the distance and the smell of rain dances through the back porch as Branch and I stand at the railing, looking across the valley below.

Poppy and Layla are inside with Sunny, catching up. Branch hasn’t said much since they returned and remained mostly quiet while we loaded his daughter’s stuff up in his car. Once we were finished, I suggested we head back out in case he needed a moment to decompress. And by the way he accepted my suggestion, I think I was right.

He grabs the rail with both hands, letting his head droop between them. “Thanks for stepping up and helping with Sunny.”

I pat him on the back. “Of course. Glad to do it.”

Branch stands, blowing out a breath that I suspect he’s been holding for days, and we make our way to the swing hanging from the side of the porch. It creaks as we sit, groaning with our weight. We’ve joked many times that it’s going to crash some day and we’re going to land on our asses.

His face is marred by stress lines, something I don’t often see on my friend. Branch has only been serious a few times since I’ve known him. It takes a lot for him to lose his goofiness like this. But it’s clear tonight that while Leon might be out of the woods, Branch is still there and looking around, wondering how he can clear out the trees.

“This has been a reality check,” Branch says, wiping his hands down his thighs. “You grow up watching your dad be a fucking superhero. Hell, I remember when we won our first championship. One of my first thoughts was how proud he was going to be of me.”