I’m about to return to the living room, when she says, “Hunter?”
I turn to look at her. “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for everything with Ellis Senior…and for how things went with Ellis too. I should have protected my boys better, but you as well. He put a lot of pressure on you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t your job to protect me, and I wouldn’t have listened anyway. My mom tried to tell mea million times that football couldn’t be my whole life, that I needed to enjoy being a kid. On and on. You always showed me love, and I was always welcome in your home, something I know would have happened whether I was good at football or not.” I nod toward the other room. “Just be good to him. He deserves the whole damn world.”
Abbie smiles, tears in her eyes. “Yes, he does.”
“I just want to make him happy. I love him so much, and I hope you know that Ellis and I, even though I realized what we had was friendship, I—”
“Shh. You don’t have to tell me anything. I know who you are, Hunter King. So did Ellis, and so does Lucas.”
I pull her into a hug, the two of us embracing for so long that eventually Lucas slips into the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” Abbie pulls away. “I feel more hope than I have in a long time.” She squeezes Lucas’s hand, then leaves the room.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.” I grin. “Come’ere.”
Lucas comes easily, my lips immediately pressing to his. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how we got here, how he even got me to spend the night with him on the roof that night. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Lucas asks.
“Feeding me dessert for breakfast. Getting me to stay up all night on the roof of a gallery for no good reason. For making me the Comeback King.”
Lucas laughs. “I take credit for the first two, but the last one was all you. I take no credit for anything football-related. Ew. Gross.”
I laugh. “God, I love you.”
“Even when I smell like cigarettes?” he teases.
“Even then.”
“What about when—”
“Always,” I cut him off.
“Good. I love you too. Always have. Always will.”
EPILOGUE
Lucas
April
“Do we haveto go?” I ask Hunt, who’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, pulling on his dress shirt. He looks fucking delectable in a suit, and I’m suddenly wishing we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight and I could just take photos of him in our bedroom before stripping him out of his clothes and pretending I’m unfamiliar with his body so I can explore every part of it. With my tongue.
“Yes, we do.” He chuckles. “And this is your night, remember? We’re all celebrating you.”
“I am a fabulous topic to be celebrated,” I tease, earning another laugh. I swat his hand away playfully and button his shirt. “As much as I pretend otherwise, I don’t always like situations like this,” I admit.
We’re having a showing at the gallery tonight that’s all my photography. It was Isla’s idea, and I tried really fucking hard to forbid it, but then I remembered that word isn’t in my vocabulary when it comes to her, so like always, my best friend got her way.
“I know.” Hunter cups my face the way he so often does.
