First: a college photo. Her in a Magnolia Bluff crewneck, leaning into Dylan in his uniform on the field after a win, both of them flushed and younger.
Second: the one from the market.10 years later. Older. Softer. Still them.
She typed the caption quickly, then hit post.
He’s still the only one I’d let call the plays. ????
From the 50-yard line to forever.??????// ??????
#DaliForever #FellForYouTwice #MyAlways #StillMyFavorite #WorthTheWait #QuarterbackedMyHeart #SharkBaitToSeaDate #TheTideDidntBreakWithUs
??Honeyshore, GA
She set the phone down and curled into the comforter, her heart doing cartwheels.
Maybe this was what healing looked like. Messy. Imperfect. But real. And—finally—shared.
Ali had barely set her phone down when she heard the unmistakable sound of Ashley squealing from the hallway.
“Cuuuuuuz!” Ashley’s voice echoed through the house, followed by the sound of her socked feet pounding against the hardwood.
Ali barely had time to sit up before Ashley burst into the room, launching herself onto the bed like a human cannonball, phone clutched in one hand and eyes wide with excitement.
“Omg, I’m so proud of you!” she practically shouted, bouncing on her knees and holding her phone out like it was glowing. “Youposted! Like, publicly! Withwords! And hisface!”
Ali laughed, her cheeks warming. “Oh my gawd, Ash. You act like I just proposed or something.”
“No, no, no,” Ashley said, flopping down beside her with a dramatic sigh. “This is bigger. This is, like, soft-launching your entirehealed era. This is giving vulnerability. This is givingmain character energy. I’m obsessed.”
Ali rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered. “Okay,relax. It’s not that big a deal.”
Ashley grinned. “Ali Presley, this is your Super Bowl. Let me have this.” Ashley’s phone buzzed in her hand, and her eyes lit up.
“It’s Abigail!” she said, already accepting the FaceTime call before Ali could protest.
The screen lit up with Abigail’s perfectly curled red hair and a raised eyebrow. “Okayexcuse me,” she said, grinning. “Are we not going to talk about the fact that my best friend just broke the internet with her soft-focus football thirst trap?”
Before Ali could respond, Abigail clicked something on her screen.
“Hold, please—merging in Raleigh Ann.”
A beat later, Raleigh Ann’s face popped up in the corner of the screen, her eyes wide. “Y’all.Y’ALL.I had to pull over. I was crying in the Starbucks drive-thru.”
Ali groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. “Oh my gawd.”
Ashley yanked the pillow away, laughing. “Nope. You don’t get to hide. You gave us permission to beferalthe minute you captioned that photo with feelings.”
Abigail was already nodding. “I mean…‘from the 50 yard line to forever’?That’s practically a sonnet. I’m printing it on a sweatshirt.”
“I’m making it my next phone background,” Raleigh Ann added. “Do we think Dylan will autograph it?”
Ali rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Her cheeks hurt, and her chest ached in that warm, full way that only the people who knew every broken piece of her could bring out.
“I hate all of you,” she said, wiping at her eyes and laughing.
“You love us,” Ashley said, throwing her arm around Ali’s shoulder.
“Obviously,” Abigail said, smirking. “And we love you back. And also—that post?That man? Ali, babe… you won. Like, in life. That’s your man.”
