I laugh for what feels like forever before growing more serious, my heart so full from these last few hours. "You did all of this for me?"
Drew leans down and kisses me gently. "I'd do anything for you."
I glance at the poem again before returning my eyes to him, taking the time to soak up his words. "So, uh, I guess you're my boyfriend now, Twelve," I finally say.
He slips his arms around my waist and picks me up. I squeal as my legs curl around his hips like they always do, his eyes branding me like they always have.
"It's about damn time, Mystery Girl."
Epilogue - Drew
"Hey you." I lace my fingers through the net in front of me and smother a laugh when Brooke spins around, scared shitless.
"My God, Drew." She drops the camera she was holding, and it bounces off of the strap around her neck as she throws her hand to her chest. "How the hell did you get back there?"
I wink at her and smirk. "I have my ways."
"Jace let you in?" she asks blankly.
I stare at her for half a beat before clearing my throat. "Maybe."
Brooke rolls her eyes then turns back to the field, picking up her camera again. "So, what are you doing here, Twelve?" She aims the lens at one of the Gators on first base in front of her and snaps a shot before looking over her shoulder. "Did you miss me already?"
I drag my tongue over my bottom lip and mentally curse the netting between us for stopping me from showing her exactly how much. "Actually, yeah," I admit through gritted teeth. "It felt like we were gone on opposite days this week."
She shifts and takes one more photo of Jace at second, then removes the strap around her neck and sets the camera in her bag by her feet. With her hands free, she walks back toward me. "That's because we were—stupid schedules. But the first game's next week, so it feels likemyfirst official chance to prove myself, ya know?"
I nod, my chest swelling with pride for her like it always does. "I know, I know. And you're gonna kill it."
She smiles sheepishly.
We're still working on her accepting how perfect she is.
"I do miss you, though," I have to add.
Brooke slips her fingers through the net and intertwines them with mine. "I miss you too. Hopefully, after you win me a Cup we can look into… maybe… moving in together?"
I fake surprise, pulling back, my eyes growing wide. "Brooke Larkin, did you just ask me to move in with you?"
She winds up to smack me in the chest, but drops her hand when she remembers the barrier between us. "Oh, shut up. We've only been talking about it for weeks."
I laugh, incapable of hiding my shit-eating grin as usual. "Oh, I know." My demeanor grows serious as I shove my hands into my pockets. "I can't wait."
She rolls her eyes and looks back toward the field.
So much has changed since that little rink side performance I gave my nowgirlfriend.I haven't played a game as anyone other than myself, and my new P.R. manager helped me to phase out all the other shit. Turns out, Brooke was right. Once I spoke my piece, the fans moved on to someone else's drama. Some of them are still coping with the fact that I'm an openly taken man, but if backlash over Brooke is all they have to throw at me, I'll cover myself in glue and make sure that shit sticks.
Brooke called Miles once everything settled down with her aunt. After a ten minute interview, she had gotten the job and was already in deep conversation about movies with the Gators' owner. Ivy, who is a total fucking trip, is fine as long as she remembers to take her medication while she's metal detecting across ancient ruins or sword fighting with medieval reenactment groups. Brooke gets to see her more regularly now, thanks to her routine doctor's appointments, and the two of them usually grab coffee together with Mrs. Larkin.
Blake's cool as shit—I finally got him the autograph he's apparently been wanting. I wrote it out to Selah though because, man, that little girl is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. Her little brother Sawyer is too—Amy told me I have to get him on the ice as soon as he can walk. But there's something about Say that draws me in.
Maybe it's that she reminds me so much of her aunt.
Brooke waves to someone in the dugout, and it pulls me back to the present. "Who's that? Do I have to worry about you around all these players?"
"Why?" she asks, spinning back toward me. "You afraid I might fall for one of them?"
She winks at me, and my teeth clench through my closed-lip smile. "Just kidding," she sings. "It's Ruthie."
