“And I was right?” Fran leans against me, her hand in mine, her dark lashes fluttering up at me.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “You were right.”
“Your mom was right too,” Fran says, her fingers holding onto me tighter.
“Feel free to elaborate,” Mom says, her hands in her lap and a grin on her face. “I love it when someone tells my children how right I am.” Mom winks at Fran.
My siblings groan—but I laugh. Isn’t our mother always right?
“You can’t say things like that to her, Fran,” Tiff says.
“You were a little right too,” Fran says, bumping me with her side. “You don’t need a good luck charm. You’ve always been the best Red Tail. You just needed to remember that. And you said”—Fran looks over at Mom—“that I wanted a partner, rather than a scene.” Fran swallows. “You were right. I love a good love story. I believe in happily ever afters.But I don’t need to imitate something on a screen.” She lifts one shoulder. “I occasionally like that imitation.” She scrunches her nose and looks at Tiff. “It’s fun.” Her chest falls with breath. “Butneed.” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t need it.” Her eyes lift to mine. “I need Callum.”
It’s a big confession for the declaration that we made a mere three hours ago. But then, we are having this conversation with my entire family—so maybe our relationship is at warp speed. Maybe it’s always been. Maybe my feelings for Fran, the pull between us, the deep, meaningful connection we’ve made have simply been real all along.
No remakes needed.
Epilogue
The Next Gen Cup.
He made it!
Callum is here, with the rest of the Red Tails. And while soccer is a long season and there will be more games before Callum gets a good break, this game is a big one. This is why all those Red Tails chanted and urged Cal to kiss his lucky charm.
I can’t say that I mind.
The team has warmed up. They’re dressed head to toe. They’re on the field, ready to be announced. My nerves are ping-ponging over every inch of my body. And while Ididn’tget one little kiss before Callum raced through the tunnel with his team, I get it. He’s oh, so focused. This is a big one.
Rose and I sit with the entire Whitaker clan in my usual spot. Even Lucca’s biggest fan, Matt, is one row down, holding up the ballpoint pen he stole from me, waiting for Callum to come my way.
“I thought he kissed you before they start,” Tiff says on my left.
“He does. Normally,” Rosalie says on my right.
“Guys,” I say. “This is the game they’ve been working so hard to get to. I’m sure he’s nervous and focused and doesn’t need distractions. Besides, Callum doesn’t need luck.” I say the words—but I’m not sure I mean them yet. I was sort of hoping he’d still want that lucky kiss.
But it doesn’t change anything. Lucky kiss or not, my feelings for Callum are just the same. He needed love. And I needed him.
I set my hands on the advertisement wall that separates me from the field.
“You aren’t considering leaping over, are you?” Rosalie says in my ear.
I breathe out a not-so-steady laugh. “Of course not.” But it’s not a terrible idea.
“It’s time,” Brady says, pointing to the field. Kristina’s beside him, in the end space open for a wheelchair, grips the armrests of her chair with both hands. “They’re announcing the starters.”
All this time, Callum’s been seating me in his family’s spot. Yep, that man can do whatever he wants today. He’s already made me the happiest girl.
Kristina holds out her phone, recording as they announce player after player.
“Don’t they normally go in numerical order?” Asher says.
“Always,” Kailey says.
“Then they skipped Callum,” I say, standing up and peering out at the field.
The speakers around the stadium boom with the announcer’s voice. “Anthony Cross!” Anthony is number sixteen. They’ve skipped Cal.
