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As soon as he says that, we hear it.

“With the third pick of the 2025 NFL Draft, the Dallas Cowboys select Archie Griffith, tackle from Walker University.”

The camera cuts to Archie in his family home. He’s sitting on the couch, next to his mom, who I recognize. On his other side is a girl with sandy-blonde hair. He hangs up the call he’s on, puts a Cowboys hat on his head, then stands. He hugs and kisses his mom on the cheek. Then he hugs his dad, and some of his brothers pile in and slap him on the back. Then he walks over to the girl who was next to him on the couch.

He takes her by the hand and pulls her up gently. He kisses her on the lips and hugs her. His body is covering her, so we can’t really see a close-up of her face yet. But when the camera zooms in as Archie takes a seat, we see it.

Casey jumps up from his seat in the chair, hands flying on top of his head. He looks at Beck. “What the actual fuck? Did you know about this?”

I look over my shoulder at Beck, who is shaking his head. He looks just as surprised as Casey.

“Holy shit. I know her.” Bo points at the TV.

Casey pulls out his phone. “Okay, we’re about to get some answers up in here. What the fuck?!”

Archie is on TV, talking, but we’re all too stunned and speaking over one another that we don’t hear anything that he says, and then it cuts to a commercial break.

I look over my shoulder at Beck. “Don’t get any ideas.”

He just smiles at me and kisses my lips. “Not yet, Boss.”

EPILOGUE

CHARLIE

ONE YEAR LATER

It’s draft day again.But this time, we’re at Beck’s house. It doesn’t actually start for another hour, so we’re all just hanging around right now, eating and watching highlights of Beck, which the media team made for the players at the university. We didn’t win the championship game this year, but we did make another playoffs run. Still, Beck had a great season.

Casey is staying at Walker one more year, and depending on how they do next season, he may or may not enter the draft. He hasn’t decided if the NFL is the right move for him yet.

I’m sitting on the couch next to Beck, and my mom leans over the back of the couch and whispers in my ear, “Honey, I need you to run home and get that gift I got for Beck. I put it on the desk in your bedroom.”

“Why would you put it in my room?”

“Because I’ve been using your desk, and, well, you don’t live there anymore, so I’ve been storing some things in your closet.”

“Mom! That’s kinda harsh.”

Dad, who’s behind me, leans over and squeezes my shoulder. “You always have a room at home, Char.”

“Thank you, Dad. Glad one of you still wants me around.” I turn back to my mom, “Seriously, Mom, why do you hate me?”

Mom huffs and rolls her eyes. “Just go.”

Dad looks at me with a pointed look, so I relent and stand.

Beck, who apparently missed this exchange, grabs the waistband of my jeans and tugs. “Where are you going?”

“I have to run home and get something for my mom. I’ll be right back.”

I lean down to kiss him and stand back up. He nods, then turns to his dad.

I walk out the door and cross the street. We live in a safe area, so the door is unlocked. I climb up the stairs, then walk down the hall to my room. The door is open, and I look at the desk and see a smallish box sitting on the top. I grab it, then turn to leave when something catches my eye on the bed.

I suck in a breath when I see three pink peonies sitting on the comforter and a handwritten note next to it.

Charlie,