“Oh, I did,” she says, proud and unbothered. “Your time to shine, baby.”
And just like that, the nerves are gone. My heart’s still racing, but it’s not panic anymore. It’s gratitude. It’s awe. It’s everything I’ve been chasing, finally standing right in front of me.
I kiss her once, it’s quick and grounding. “Thank you.”
She brushes her thumb across my cheek, smiling. “Go make them look good, hotshot.”
Some moments don’t happen because you plan them.
They happen because the right people collide with your life at exactly the right time.
***
The Valkyries win, and by the time I’ve packed my gear and finished the last few post-match shots, I’m riding a high that makes my chest ache in the best way. Now we’re all crammed into Pour Decisions—the tiny sports bar a few blocks from the stadium—some of the team scattered between tables, the rest of us jammed into a corner booth that smells like fries and spilled beer.
Liv’s dad skipped the bar, but he lingered long enough to be sure she was still smiling. I’m glad he did. It means more to her than she ever says out loud, having him close, having him show up. When he found out about what happened with Rhys, he flew out to Oregon for her birthday weekend before Christmas, without thinking twice. I don’t think he fully realizes how much that meant to her… but I do. Seeing her happy is everything I’ve ever wanted, and her dad shares that sentiment.
Seb’s halfway through a dramatic retelling of the play of the night, hands flying everywhere. “Dude, she literally fended off three people. I should’ve retired on the spot. I’m man enough to admit half the Valkyries could flatten me and I’d still say thank you.”
Indie grins, raising her glass. “As you should.”
“Honestly,” Hudson adds, shaking his head, “watching them out there makes our training look like recess.”
“Cheers to that.” Daphne nudges him with a smile, and everyone raises their glasses to clink together. “Your daughter is going to be on that team one day, you know.”
Hudson grumbles, but there’s also a look of pride, too. He knows he won’t win that battle.
Finn sips his beer and turns to Liv. “So, when are you moving to California?”
She catches the look on my face and squeezes my knee under the table, silent reassurance in one small gesture. “I’ve got a summer internship at the Coastal Art Gallery, starting right after finals.”
A round of coos and congratulations filter in with the noises in the bar, and I pull Liv closer to me, kissing the side of her head.
“I could get used to this sea air, you know,” Daphne says, side-eyeing Hudson. “I think Rosie would love it, too.”
Hudson grins. “You just want an excuse to make her a beach kid.”
“Obviously.” Daphne shrugs, unapologetic.
The conversation splinters into overlapping chatter—Finn arguing with Miles about the best post-match playlist, Quinn trying to convince the bartender to let her pour her own drink. My chest is so full knowing that they all made the effort to be here for me today.
Liv’s hand slips into mine beneath the table. “Come on,” she says quietly, eyes flicking toward the open staircase that leads up to the rooftop terrace.
I let her pull me away from the noise, our fingers linked as we climb the narrow steps. The music fades until it’s just the hum of the city and the steady crash of waves beyond the street.
Liv leans against the railing, looking out over the dark coastline. “You can actually hear the ocean from here.”
“Guess that’s one perk of coastal living,” I say, stepping behind her, hands resting lightly on her hips.
Up here, the night stretches wide, the bright string lights swaying overhead, faint salt in the air. There’s a heaviness, too, a charged quiet that sits low on the horizon. Thunder murmurs somewhere far off. The smell of incoming rain hits, and for a second, I’m right back at that night, standing in the downpour outside our building, soaked through and stubborn, refusing to come in until she’d gotten her fill of the storm. She looked wild then, all lightning and defiance, and I’d fallen before she even looked my way.
Liv tilts her head back, eyes bright. “Is that thunder?”
“Yeah,” I say, listening to it fade. “Hear any secrets yet?”
“You remembered that.”
“Of course I did. I remember everything about you, Olivia.”
