A chorus of children roaring their agreement echoes back, my grin growing wide even as emotion pricks at the backs of my eyes.
“You’ve gotta be strong to play sports, yeah?”
Again, they respond in kind.
“Little Warriors was just a dream. A hope that someday, I’d find a way to show you all how strong you can be. How much you can trulytackle.” They laugh, saving me from the embarrassment of a lacklustre pun. “So, consider today the first of many, where children all across the globe can show the men’s and women’s pro-sports world what real strength looks like.”
The crowd breaks out into cheers. My teammates sprint out onto the pitch to pair the children up, some leading their parents to the stands, where, for once, they can just watch their child be a child, rather than a brave soldier facing cancer.
As they disperse, Evelyn takes the microphone from me, switching it off as I pull Adhira up.
“You did great,” Evelyn says with a soft smile, peeling off to tend to the press.
My heart pounds, everything around me threatening to overwhelm me, but Adhira’s hands—one pressing to my chest and the other my cheek—draw me back into the only thing that truly matters: her.
“Do not spiral, Elijah Elliott-Shah. You were incredible,” she says, pressing onto her toes, bringing us eye to eye. “These children, and thousands more, are going to have a little light at the end of an otherwise dark and seemingly endless tunnel because ofyouand your brilliant, compassionate mind. Don’t overthink it.”
I release a long breath through my nose, holding her gaze as I wade through the pride and nerves until, eventually, I find the place where only she resides. A complete calmness washes over me; my hands find themselves on her hips, grounding us.
“You are the greatest part of every day,” I whisper, repeating her words from all those years ago.
“And you are the only person I’d want to do life with.” Her smile widens, her gaze flickering up, and it’s the only warning I have before she steps out of my grasp, a bucket of cold water pouring over my head.
Laughter spills from my teammates, but it’s Coach Auclair who claps me on the back, blue eyes glittering. “Your Mum and I are proud of you,” he says, extending an arm to Mum. She takes his hand, allowing him to twirl her into his side, holding her tight and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“He’s right, love. We’re so proud of you,” she says, beaming. Every day, I hold a new level of gratitude for this man who took a chance on me, allowed me to make mistakes, and now shares thesame selfless love Adhira and I have with the woman who loved me first: my mum.
Surrounded by the greatest love of my life, the people who chose me even when I wouldn’t choose myself, and all those I met along the way, I feel whole.Whole and truly loved.
EPILOGUE PART THREE
FORTY YEARS LATER
“There you are, Lady Sheddington,” Elijah coos to the grumpy, smoosh-faced ball of anger as he sets her on the ground in a green-and-purple harness with a tutu.
“If you wind up dead in your sleep, I’m going to assume it was the cat,” I tell him with a snicker, my laughter growing as she pins me with her glare. “I’m accepting that look as confirmation.”
“What? My snuggly-wuggly angel-cake face?” Elijah questions in mock outrage, his jaw covered in grey stubble, eyes wide. “She loves her daddy,” he insists.
I roll my eyes. “Mm-hm, I do too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t also hate parts of you.”
“Hey now, I thought loving me meant lovingallof me?”
“That’s…what? You have inherent qualities that are not good; why would I love those?”
“Sweetheart, are you really telling me on our fortieth anniversary that you don’t like me?” he asks, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.
“No. They’re not good, but I love you anyway. I feel like that’s a huge compliment,” I say, squinting as I wrestle with the right words to explain whatever it is he isn’t understanding.
“I thought the saying was ‘I love youandyour flaws’?”
“Princess, that’s ridiculous.” I shrug. “I love youdespiteyour flaws, but I don’t love your flaws. They’reflaws,Elijah.” I huff out a frustrated breath.
“This is getting worse,” he says with a cackle that annoys me, shaking his head.
“I don’t like your flaws, but I love you and all the good things about you, so those flaws aren’t as important. Because there are more good things than bad. Do you get it now?”
His smile widens, blinding, as he wraps his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin. He presses a kiss to my hair, dropping his mouth to my ear. “I’m sorry I was laughing, baby. I get what you’re saying, I do. And it’s been the greatest honour of my life to annoy you with every one of mymanyapparent flaws.”
