“I’m here.”
She’s here.
She’shome.
“Huxley, you can hug your emotional support girlfriend later,” Coach says. “Huddle up. Focus. No distractions. If we blow a nearly thirty-point lead because you’re thinking with your dick?—”
“You’ll sell out your next home match for everyone wanting tosee what crazy thing he’ll do next,” Goldie interrupts. “Oops. Sorry, Coach. Your changing room. Apologies. I’m not here.”
“We need Fletch’s emotional support girlfriend in every halftime meeting,” Porter says.
Silas hip-checks me and goes in to hug his sister. “She was my emotional support sister first,” he grumbles.
“It’s so gross watching you play,” she says to him.
“It’s so sad that you don’t have anything better to do than show up for my matches,” he replies.
They stare at each other for a second, then both crack up.
One of the assistant coaches appears with a badge for Goldie that’ll keep security from booting her off the pitch or out of the changing room.
Holt grabs me.
Porter grabs Silas.
And we have a shortened discussion of strategy for the second half of the match.
Not that we need it.
We’re on fuckingfirein the second half.
When we head to the airport after the match, we’re leading the league in the standings.
Ticket sales for our next home match have indeed nearly sold out.
Goldie’s flying with us, as family often does.
I can’t stop staring at her and I can’t stop touching her. Her face. Her hair. Her arms. Her hands. Her knees.
Soon, every part of her.
She’shere.
After two months of nothing but texts, video calls, and phone sex, she’shere. She’shome.
And for the first time in my entire memory, I am finally whole.
“I love you,” I whisper to her when she lays her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes.
“I love you more,” she whispers back.
I start to smile.
She giggles softly.
“So this is how it’s gonna be?” I ask.
“Was there ever any other way?”
