Page 147 of Only Between Us

Perfect. She’s laid out the perfect life, and fuck, I can’t wait to start living it.

I squint past her, down the hall. “Is that, like, a hundred ships at the same time, or…”

Siena gives a split second of a laugh before I pull her in, bring our lips together. I part her mouth in a slow, indulgent kiss, all sliding tongues and soft moans from us both. Her fingers are all over me. My hair, my cheeks, down my neck. Like she’s confirming I’m really here. They slide over my shoulders and glide down my biceps, finding that spot below the crook of my right elbow. The accidental heart she loves to trace. Siena pulls away, tracing the raised and still-sensitive skininside that heart. A permanent version of the tiny “S+B” she’d drawn on me before she left. I only made it two feet out of the airport once I dropped her off before knowing she and I belonged there for good.

“Brooks.” Her shoulders tremble in a soft laugh. “I’m really fucking happy.”

“Me too. There’s really only one thing that could make this even better.” With a dramatic sigh, I slide down the wall next to her suitcases, pulling Siena to the ground with me. She shimmies around in her dress, fighting with the long skirt until she can straddle me.

God, my body missed her.

“It would be the perfect cherry on top.” I rake my fingers through all that gorgeous, shiny hair. “You finally admitting that you kissed me first on purpose.”

Her jaw drops. “You cannot be serious. How are we still on this?”

I nudge her mouth shut with a finger. “Admit it.”

“You’re truly deluded.”

My mouth hovers just half an inch from hers. I jerk back when she leans in. “Admit it.”

“Oh my God.” She’s in fits of laughter, her forehead meeting mine, and she’s actually blushing. Her fingers hold the back of my head, gently scraping through the hair.

Heaven. All of this.

“Brooks.” Siena brings me closer, leaves only a sliver of air between our lips. Smiling from her eyes. “I totally kissed you on purpose.”

EpilogueSeven months laterBrooks

There are times in life when you don’t recognize a moment for what it is.

Like that euphoric split second about three years ago to the day, right before the tackle that rocked my world. Like scrambling after a ball at just another practice, only to smash into a woman I never even knew existed.

Both life-altering events that yanked my unsuspecting ass onto paths I never saw coming. Paths I’d never have taken if fate hadn’t rightfully decided I was ill-equipped to choose for myself. Took matters into its own hands, and delivered me everything I needed, though I didn’t see it at the time.

This isn’t one of those times.

This time, when I launch myself in the air and that brown leather bounces into my waiting palms, when my feet hit the turf and I weave past the last of the defense as the stands fall in silent anticipation, I know it’s the biggest day of my life.

For multiple reasons.

Everything around me erupts the second that ball passes the goalline. I barely have the space to let it sink in before I’m accosted by royal-purple jerseys. Men scream in prepubescent pitches, driving me back into the tall barrier behind the end zone with the force of their collective embrace.

Because there are six seconds left in this Super Bowl game, and we’re up by four. We’re about to kick for the extra point, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but…

I make it to the sideline with my heart pounding louder than the frenzied Rebels fans in the stands. Cam winds an arm tight around my neck in an affectionate choke hold as players line up for the kick on the field.

“You scrappy motherfucker.” The quarterback pulls me into his side and rubs a rough hand into my hair when I strip off my helmet. “You stupidly pretty, scrappy motherfucker. I fucking love you, you know that?”

I manage an exhilarated laugh inaudible to my own ears. There’s nothing more capable of turning grown-ass men into foul-mouthed saps like being seconds away from winning their first championship.

It’s the slowest six seconds of my life. I scan the boxes framing the midsection of the stands looking for mine, where my family watches. I spot them up there. Josh, looking more dishevelled than I’ve ever seen him. My parents, my sister and Colt, Leo, Parker, Summer, Zac, and Mel. Shy and her husband, Max, who’s holding tightly on to Rosie. Rachel, Carla, and Evan.

It’s about as perfect a picture as it can get. Every one of them on their feet, practically hanging over the edge of the railing in anticipation of our win.

But that picture is missing the most important person.

The crowd roars and in a blink, I’m dragged back onto the field, surrounded by a screaming sea of purple as confetti rains down on us. It’s a bizarre fucking feeling. Surreal, despite the full sensoryexperience of it. The sounds, the crushing assault of my massive teammates. The pure ecstasy overtaking every inch of my body.