Page 45 of Full Tilt (Love The Game #4)

Camden

Five Years Later – Exeter Stadium

The roar of the crowd is still echoing in my ears as I stand at the centre of the pitch, chest heaving, sweat drying on my skin, and gold confetti clinging to my jersey. The scoreboard behind me glows like a dream: Exeter Seagulls—League Champions. Final whistle. Final game. Final win.

I should be in the locker room by now, half-drunk on champagne and shoulder-deep in teammates’ hugs. But I’m not.

Because tonight isn’t just about rugby. Tonight’s about him.

Brent stands on the sidelines, right where I told him to wait.

He’s in faded black jeans, his studio hoodie pushed back to reveal that inked throat I love so much.

His hair’s longer now, curling a little at the ends.

There’s silver at his temple these days—probably my fault—and he’s never looked more annoyingly beautiful.

When our eyes meet, he grins. Slow. Knowing. Proud.

I jog towards him, heart rattling like a drum. And yeah, maybe the grass is damp, and maybe I just played eighty minutes of brutal rugby, but nothing— nothing —is stopping me.

Brent raises a brow when I slow to a stop in front of him.

“You planning on lifting another trophy?” he teases.

I smile. “Something like that.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but then I’m dropping to one knee, right here on the field, on the soggy pitch beneath a hundred stadium lights.

Brent goes utterly still. The noise around us fades to a dull hum—reporters yelling, fans screaming, champagne spraying somewhere behind me—but I barely hear any of it.

I only hear my own voice.

“I knew,” I say, “the moment you kissed me in that alley five years ago, that I was never walking away from you.”

Brent’s lips part. His eyes shine, even in the floodlights.

“You’ve held me together,” I continue, “when everything else was falling apart. You’ve made my home feel like more than bricks and a bed. You’ve made me feel like more than muscle and grit. You’ve loved me—all of me—even when I didn’t know how to let you.”

I pull the ring box from the pocket of my warm-up jacket and open it. It’s simple, a platinum band, and etched on the inside with the word home .

“Marry me,” I say, voice tight. “Let’s make this forever.”

Brent doesn’t hesitate. Not for a second. He lets out a stunned, choked laugh—and then he’s dropping to his knees, crashing into me with the kind of kiss that steals the air from my lungs and floods my chest with fire.

“Yes,” he breathes, arms locked around my neck. “Yes, Cam. Of course, yes.”

The crowd must’ve realised what’s happening, because the roar kicks up again—louder. Someone throws a flag over us like a cape. Someone else’s voice breaks through, shouting, “Get a room!” and I swear it’s Cosmo’s from the box seats.

But none of it matters. Because I’m kissing my fiancé.

My fiancé.

When I finally pull back to slide the ring onto his finger, Brent’s face is flushed, his grin wide, and his voice a little breathless. “Guess I’m finally part of the team now,” he says, tilting his head towards the field.

“You’ve always been the best part of it,” I say.

And when we stand—fingers laced, foreheads pressed together, the whole damn stadium watching—I know this moment will live in my bones forever.

We won the league today.

But I already won the only thing that really matters.