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“Lane’s not gonna know what hit him,” Soren teased.

Across the back, stitched in bold white letters, was one word.

MASSEY

A nervous laugh escaped me. “I might throw up.”

“You won't,” Grandpa teased, patting my shoulder before adjusting the collar of my jersey like I was still the little girl who used to run around his farm. “Besides, I paid good money for this front-row seat. You owe me a show.”

Beside him, Jonah bounced baby Hope against his chest in a carrier. She stared up at the stadium lights before grabbing one of Jonah’s hoodie strings with determined little fingers.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I took one long breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Across the field, Lane commanded the sideline with the easy confidence that always made me smile. Every few steps, he clapped a player on the shoulder, adjusted another player’s helmets, or shouted encouragement as the final seconds disappeared from the clock.

The clock ran out.

Game over. The Mustangs had won! The crowd erupted in cheers.

Players poured onto the field, helmets flying into the air as Lane laughed and slapped the backs of anyone close enough to reach.

The announcer’s voice echoed through the speakers. “Great game! Before everyone heads home tonight, we’d like Coach Massey to stay on the field.”

Lane glanced toward the press box, then toward the athletic director, brows furrowed and then he saw me.

Landry nudged me. “You got this!”

For a second, he didn’t move. It was as if the entire stadium disappeared and he was back in every moment we’d ever shared. Confusion melted into complete disbelief.

I sprinted onto the field wearing his last name across my back, not because I had to, but because after all these years, I wanted him to know exactly where I belonged. With him. Always.

A murmur rolled through the stands. Then, section by section, people stood. The players who had graduated years ago stood beside current students. Parents who had watched him coach their kids wiped away tears. People Lane had encouraged, defended, and believed in over the years filled the stands, carrying reminders that every quiet thing he had done mattered.

Countless signs lifted in the air.

WE LOVE COACH MASSEY.

THANK YOU, COACH.

THE BEST COACH EVER!

THE ONE WHERE COACH FINALLY GETS HIS GIRL

Lane slowly turned, taking in every face, every sign, every person who had shown up to remind him how much he mattered. His eyes glistened.

I smiled through my own tears.

“This . . .” he whispered when I finally reached him. “You did all this?”

“I had a little help, but you deserve to know how many people love you.”

His gaze moved through the stands. Grandpa waved proudly, like this entire thing had been his idea. Soren and Jace gave him a thumbs-up. Jonah lifted Hope’s tiny hand toward the field, making her wave at Lane. She had no idea what she was cheering for, but she grinned anyway, surrounded by people who already loved her.

Lane laughed softly, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve every bit of it.”