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“Brock! He could call the press or worse, the cops.”
“Oh, security showed up. He sent them away. And you should be getting a check for six months of severance pay and letters of recommendation from all the partners. I know you don’t need either, but it was the principle. He wronged you, and this is a small way of helping to make it right. Granted, nothing will make him putting his hands on you or threatening you okay, but this at least makes him uncomfortable. He’s going to have to go to accounting for the check and his partners for the letters. He’s going to have to be the one to explain why he’s doing what he’s doing. I gave him a week.”
There’s silence on the other end, and I’m afraid I might have fucked up. I’m going to have to do some major groveling when I get home. However, when her laughter rings through the speakers, I realize I was wrong.
“I wish I could have seen his face,” she confesses.
“Damn, I should have taken a picture for you,” I joke.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I should be home in a couple of hours.”
“Brock?”
“Yeah, Sunshine?”
“Tell me a story.”
I don’t have to glance in the rearview mirror to know that I’m grinning. Joey is everything I never knew I wanted or needed.
“Once upon a time, there was a man who fell madly in love with a beautiful woman. Loving her changed him. Her love made him want to be a better man. The love they shared had him thinking about weddings, and babies, and a house full of love, laughter, and sunshine.”
EPILOGUE JOEY
Joey
I’ve never experienced a more electric energy in my entire life. The entire stadium is on their feet, screaming and cheering for their team. The score is tied at seventeen with two minutes to go in the fourth. The winner of this matchup wins a trip to Miami, to the biggest game of the year.
Championship game.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life. I’m on my feet, standing alongside legions of Ramblers fans, my hands gripping those of my friends around me. Taylor is on one side, while Mia, my coworker and friend, is on the other. Sure, we could have watched from a suite upstairs, but this is where I want to be.
This is where I want to watch the game.
I tighten my hold on my friends’ hands and hold my breath. The line gets set. The quarterback takes his position. He calls out the play, glances from his left to his right. There’s a moment I swear I can see his eyes when they connect with Brock’s. Brock gives him a slight nod, and I know it’s coming.
My eyes widen as the ball is hiked. Brock takes off, running ten yards out before cutting hard to the left. He holds out his hands, the ball thrown his way. He reaches and has to adjust his pace to catch it, the ball thrown almost out of his grasp. But Brock has it, his big hands securing the football at the five-yard line.
I watch as a defender comes from out of nowhere, driving his shoulder and helmet into Brock’s side and knocking him off his feet. The momentum of the hit carries him toward the goal line, and all I can do is watch in horror as he spins through the air, landing hard on his side.
But something else happens in that moment.
As he’s spinning through the air, Brock holds out the football, reaching for the white line of the endzone. I feel my own air woosh from my lungs as he falls against the turf, the linebacker who drove into his side falling on top of him.
The whistle blows.
The referee holds his hands up in the air.
Touchdown.
The crowd goes wild, the stadium erupting into an ear-piercing roar of celebration. I don’t even realize I’ve joined in, screaming and jumping up and down, until Taylor pulls me into a hug. “That was amazing!” she yells, though I still struggle to hear her. “I can’t believe he caught that! It was way overthrown.”
A proud smile breaks out on my face. Of course he’d catch it. My man can perform under pressure better than anyone I know. He’s the number one tight end in the league this year for a reason.
The celebrations in the stands continue as the field goal team takes the field. I watch as my brother counts out his steps, lines up the kick, and waits for the snap. The moment the ball is in the air and positioned in front of him, he drives it up and over the goalpost, securing one final point in the game.
Brock is the first one to run out onto the field and throw his arms around Caleb as he’s walking back to the sidelines. I can see their mutual smiles, even from the stands, and I’ve never been prouder of both of them.
