“So it’s official?” she asks, wrapping her arms back around my middle. “You’re staying with the Honky Tonks?”
“Yep,” I nod, letting one hand settle on her hip while the other cups the side of her neck. “I’ve never felt more at home than I do here on this team. It might not be the dream I had as a kid, but that’s only because a team like this didn’t exist back then.” I brush soft circles over her cheek with my thumb. “It’s an honor to be a part of history and show kids a different path forward.”
A heavy weight lifts from my shoulders as she gazes up at me, especially as she tilts her head to press a kiss to the side of my thumb. “And I think you are absolutely the best person to do that. These kids are so lucky to have you as a role model.”
“Thanks, Holls,” I whisper, brushing a quick kiss to her lips. “And what about you? What are your plans moving forward?”
“I think I’d like to stick around Houston for a while."
A mischievous grin tugs at her lips, as she boldly hooks her fingers into my belt loops before pulling me closer.
“Really?” I ask, my voice sounding desperate even to my own ears, but damn. This is the best news I’ve gotten all night. Well, second best. Nothing will ever top hearing her say she loves me. “But only because you want to, right? Not because of me, or because you feel pressured?”
“You’re a part of it, sure.” Her hands slide up my body until they settle over my chest. “But it’s more than that. I’ve always felt like I needed to run, and be as far away from my family and the pressure that comes with my last name, just to feel proud of myself. But you were right. Maybe I did get this job because of who my dad is, but the success I’ve had and the growth we’ve seen is proof that I’m worthy of all of this.”
“Say it again,” I whisper, lowering my forehead to hers.
“What? That I’m worthy?”
“No, that I was right.”
She swats at my chest “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you still love me,” I say with a smug grin.
“And you’re lucky I do.”
“Oh, believe me. I’m quite aware of just how lucky I am.”
Instead of speaking, she curls her fingers into my jersey as she yanks me into a kiss that’s not only full of heat, but promises.
The feelings racing through me are different from what I felt after winning the game as the crowds roared and the confetti flew from the cannons. This is much quieter, yet so much deeper as we create our own kind of fireworks.
I finally deepen the kiss, pouring every last unspoken word or feeling into this moment. There’s no doubt about it, this high is so much better than the one that came with tonight’s win. If forced to choose between winning a game or winning Hollis, I’d choose her. I’ll always choose her, and will for the rest of my life.
Epilogue
Opening Night of the New Season
I clap a hand over my mouth, giggling along with the rest of the crowd as a little boy wearing the same jersey as me—and more importantly, Mason Fletcher—takes a determined swing as a ball is gently pitched in his direction. The bat is so big and heavy in his hands his body practically goes flying as he misses. His body spins in a clumsy circle, but luckily, Fletch is there to steady him.
It’s tradition that during every game, a lucky fan is recruited to be an honorary Honky Tonk. Tonight, it’s this adorable little guy who looks to be anywhere from four to five years old.
“You got this,” I shout in encouragement as he takes another swing.
Another miss.
It isn’t unusual for it to take all three tries whenever they do this. But to ensure the tiny Honk Tonk gets the full experience, Fletcher moves in to save the day. He sets down a batting tee and places the baseball on top before leaning down to give what I’m sure is the ultimate pep talk.
The little man listens intently, pure determination written across tiny features. He looks an awful lot like a superhero ready to face his destiny, as though this is where his origin story begins. And who knows, maybe it is. Perhaps this one perfect moment will be a defining one, the spark that turns into a lifelong dream of becoming a true Honky Tonk player.
Turning back toward the ball, he takes one final swing and connects. The ball plops straight onto the dirt, managing only a few small bounces, and not even making it to the pitcher’s mound. That doesn’t stop the crowd from reacting as I jump up and down and scream along with them.
No matter how many times I’ve seen this bit, it’ll always be my favorite. Then again, it always feels extra special when Fletcher is the one by their side. There’s just something incredibly attractive about a man jogging alongside a kid, playing the role of coach as he shouts encouragement.
The Outlaws, the league’s newest team thanks to all the popularity, play their roles perfectly as they fumble the ball every single time. They’re constantly running into each other, and, of course, missing even the easiest of throws and catches, but it gives our Honorary Honky Tonk his time to shine.
Bless their sweet, clumsy hearts.
