Page 48

Alex Sebring

The golden morning sunlight filters in, catching the edge of the bedding and spreading warmth across the room. Lex lies between us, cheeks pink from sleep and a full belly, his tiny hands curled up by his face. He smells like milk and baby shampoo and everything I never knew I needed.

Magnolia’s on her side, one hand resting on his belly. Her eyes are closed, lips parted in that peaceful way she gets after Lex settles. The top buttons of her sleep shirt are unfastened from his morning feeding, and her hair’s a mess, but she’s never looked more beautiful.

I lie still, not wanting to wake them. Not wanting to break this moment. My fingers twitch with the instinct to reach for her, but I don’t. Not yet.

Because mornings like these are numbered.

Pre-season training starts in a few days.

Which means the alarm will go off before the sun rises.

I’ll be gone before either of them opens their eyes and will be on the field all day, training until my legs burn and my lungs ache.

Meetings, gym, drills, film, repeat. Twelve hours a day, sometimes sixteen if the coaches are pissed off by the day’s poor performance.

And I’ll come home, exhausted, and they’ll already be asleep.

I’ll miss mornings like this.

I’ll miss them .

That thought lands with a thud in my chest. Dread. Or maybe even something like grief. Because I understand how fast time moves now. I’ll blink, and Lex will be crawling. Blink again, and he’ll be walking. Talking. Laughing.

And I won’t be here for any of it.

My gaze drifts to the ceiling, but my focus stays on the weight in my chest.

I used to live for the adrenaline. The roar of a stadium crowd. The cold burn of early-morning workouts. The grind that made victory taste sweet. I loved it. Lived for it.

But not anymore.

Now, I dread it. Not the work—not the pain. I can take that. I’ve had worse. It’s what I’ll be missing that I can’t stomach.

They are my home now, and I don’t want to leave. Not for the team. Not for the fans. Not even for the game I once swore I’d die playing.

My heart isn’t on the field anymore. It’s lying right here in this bed, wrapped in a tiny onesie, curled up next to the other person who completes my whole damn world.

Magnolia stirs beside me, her lashes fluttering as she blinks awake. She yawns, soft and unguarded, and turns toward Lex, brushing a kiss to his forehead before her eyes meet mine.

“Morning,” she says, voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, love,” I say, letting my gaze settle on the tiny rise and fall of Lex’s chest. “He nursed earlier than usual.”

She nods, a lazy smile tugging at her mouth. “Your son is a bottomless pit. He drained me dry.”

“Well, he is my son. So seems only right,” I say with a smirk, eyes flicking to the soft roundness of Lex’s face.

“I need to work on my hydration because this little guy’s already got his daddy’s appetite.”

I turn onto my side, propping my head on my hand so I can see her. Her eyes are half-lidded as she traces soft circles on Lex’s onesie with her thumb.

“Favorite?”

She looks up, her smile small and sleepy. “Yeah?”

I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger there for a moment before I say the words that will change the rest of our lives. “I don’t think I can go back.”

She blinks, slow and confused. “Go back where?”

“To play rugby.” I pause, letting the words settle. I take a breath, one that feels like it’s been sitting in my chest for weeks. “It’s been on my mind for a while. I’ve been kicking it around––retiring for good. Not next season. Not someday. Now.”

Her eyes search mine. “But you love rugby.”

“I love you and Lex more. I don’t want to miss out on this,” I say, gesturing between us.

“You. Him. The mornings. The little things. I don’t want to be gone twelve hours a day and spend my energy on a field when all I can think about is how fast he’s growing, and how far away I feel every time I leave. ”

She’s quiet, her lips parted in that stunned way she gets when I blindside her with something big.

“I want to be here for all of it.”

Magnolia exhales, slow and steady. “You’re the reason they won the Grand Final. You went back and everything changed. They started winning again. They aren’t going to let you go without a fight.”

“I know. And I’m proud of what we accomplished and of what I gave them. But it’s time they find their next star.”

She looks at me, and I see the conflict in her eyes. “They’ll try to talk you into one more year.”

“They will, but I’ll make David understand that it’s time for me to leave on my terms so I can be with my family.” I glance down at Lex, who’s begun making soft, sleepy noises between us. “You and this boy mean everything to me.”

Magnolia’s fingers reach for mine. “Are you thinking about going back to Sebring Hotels?”

I shake my head before she even finishes the question. “No. That version of me doesn’t exist. I don’t have it in me to put on a suit and sit behind a desk, pretending I care about that stuff.”

Lex lets out a tiny sigh, and it’s the best sound in the world.

“I’ve been thinking. I don’t have to step away from rugby completely. There’s this Samoan kid—Tuivasa. He’s raw but good. He’s got the instincts… just needs someone to bring it out of him.”

“You?” she asks, eyes curious now.

“Maybe. If I coached him—if I worked with the fly-half or stepped in on special teams—I could stay connected to the game without being consumed by it. I could stick around and help but still be home for dinner. I could still be a part of what I love but in a different way.”

Magnolia’s quiet for a second, processing, and nods. “That sounds perfect. For you and for us.” She smiles, and there’s pride behind it. “You’d be a hell of a coach.”

Magnolia shifts closer, her hand still in mine, her eyes on Lex.

“You’re a great dad. Watching you with him is better than I ever imagined, and I’d love to have you home more.

Not only for the help, though God knows I’d take it.

” She laughs, then sobers. “We want you in our everyday life—not around the edges of it.”

I can’t speak for a moment. I just nod, tightening my grip on her hand.

“Lex needs you,” she says, glancing down at our son. “Not just the stories about you. The actual everyday you.”

That fucking undoes me.

“I needed to hear you say that. Even though it’s something I already knew. I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. The team. The fans. But especially you.”

“You could never disappoint me. Choosing your family isn’t failure, Alex. It’s the bravest, most beautiful thing you’ve ever done.”

And just like that, the weight lifts.

Magnolia laces her fingers through mine as Lex lets out a contented sigh in his sleep. His fingers twitch, mouth parting slightly, like he’s dreaming of something sweet.

And I’m certain––this is it for me. Not the roar of the crowd or the lift of a trophy or the highlight reel of tackles and tries.

This .

The quiet. The stillness. Two becoming three. This is exactly what I want.

My wife with her fierce love and unwavering heart. My son with his tiny fists and massive grip around my heart. I never thought I could be this happy and blessed.

I look down at her, the woman who saw through every wall I built and held my hand through fire and grace.

“My beloved beauty. You’ve given me everything.”

And in that moment, I’m certain I’ve made the right decision. Not only to leave the game but to choose them. To choose home.

Magnolia shifts just enough to pull Lex closer. I watch them—my entire world in one bed—and something settles inside me.

Not the fire I used to chase. Just peace.

It’s not the future I imagined when I was twenty and chasing stardom. It’s better.

I run a hand over Lex’s back and close my eyes.

I’m exactly where I want to be.

I’m home.

THE END