She sighs against me, fingers curling tighter in my suit, and in that sound I hear surrender, trust, want. I kiss her deeper, notapologizing, not holding back, not asking permission from anyone except the woman in my arms.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are glassy with heat, her chest rising fast. And she smiles — not a timid one, not ashamed. A proud, reckless smile.
Around us, whispers explode. I know Wayne’s face is thunder; I can feel the weight of his stare. But I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes only on her.
“This is it,” I murmur, voice steady. “No more shadows. No more hallways. I’m done hiding.”
Sammie swallows, her hand trembling on my chest. “And damn anyone who tries to stop you?”
“Exactly.” I lean in close, brushing my lips against her ear, defiance sharpening every word. “Damn anyone who thinks they can stand between me and the woman I love.”
She exhales a shaky laugh. “Then don’t let go.”
I press her tighter to me, the music swelling, the room spinning around us. “Never.”
And for the first time, the world sees us exactly as we are: not captain and coach’s daughter, not secret and sin — but man and woman, proud, unashamed, and utterly unwilling to run anymore.
Sammie
For a heartbeat after his mouth leaves mine, the world doesn’t exist.
All I know is the taste of him, the heat still pressed into my lips, the way his hand lingers at my waist like he dares anyone to try and pry me away. My heart is slamming too loud for me to hear anything else.
Then the room comes rushing back.
Gasps. Whispers. The click of camera shutters, sharp as gunfire. A donor’s wife with her pearls clutched so tight they’ll snap. Laughter stifled into shocked silence. And across the floor — my father.
Wayne Michael.
My dad.
His expression is stone, unreadable to most. But I know him. I know every line of that jaw, every flare of those nostrils, every vein that tightens at his temple when he’s about to call a penalty that will change the game. And right now, he’s looking at me like I’m the opponent, and Triston is the play that broke the rules.
Fear knots my stomach. I should pull away. I should step back, pretend it was a mistake, make some joke about champagne. That would be the smart move. The safe move.
But I don’t.
Because his arm is still around me, and his chest is still steady under my hand, and when I look up at Triston’s face, there’s no apology there. No regret. Just fierce, steady truth. And for the first time, I feel it too — the certainty that we’re not wrong.
The music keeps playing. The band doesn’t stop, maybe because they don’t know if they’re allowed to. Or maybe because even they can feel it: something bigger than a song just happened.
“Triston…” I whisper, my voice trembling.
He leans down, brushing his mouth close to my ear so only I can hear. “Don’t be afraid of them. Not tonight. Not ever.”
I swallow hard, fighting tears that want to break free. “They’re all staring.”
“Good.” His voice is rough, low. “Let them see what I’ve known since October. You’re mine.”
The words shouldn’t soothe me. They should make me panic. Instead, my body warms like the velvet I’m wearing has turned into armor.
I tip my head back, searching his eyes. “And if my dad—”
“Then damn your dad,” he interrupts, steady as stone. “Damn every last one of them.”
The audacity of it makes me laugh, shaky but real. “You’re impossible.”
His lips twitch in that way that always undoes me. “And you love me anyway.”
