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EPILOGUE

DAMON

T hree years and four days. That’s how long it took for the universe to correct itself, for the life I was meant to have to find its way back to me.

As I pull my car up the long, winding driveway of the Astor estate, I can’t help but think this is exactly where I should have been three years ago?before my father blackmailed Reginald Astor, and before he chose profit over family, and fear and threats to convince Avery to end things between us.

The mansion looms ahead, just as imposing as I remember. Funny how a place can still intimidate me after all this time.

I park in the circular driveway, right in front of the main entrance. No hiding my beat-up pickup around the corner like I used to. No sneaking through the garden entrance because her parents didn’t approve. Those days are gone.

Through the windshield, I watch the massive double doors, remembering how they had once felt like a barrier between two worlds—mine and Avery’s. I’d always been hyperaware of crossing that threshold, of finding my place in her life where I didn’t belong.

I cut the engine and sit for a moment, listening to the tick of the cooling metal.

It’s been more than five months since the police arrested Reginald Astor on multiple charges of involuntary manslaughter, fraudulent misrepresentation, and forgery, with mass wrongful death suits pending his criminal trial this fall.

If he’s convicted, he’s expected to get fifteen to thirty years in prison.

I don’t know how Avery or her family will handle everything if he’s convicted and sentenced.

All I know is their lawyer ensured funds were put aside for Katie to secure her care.

Worst case scenario, Reginald is found guilty, the Astor Hotel Group will be forced to liquidate, and her family will lose tens of million in lawsuits.

As it so happens, their net worth is substantial enough, they won’t lose everything.

No matter what, Avery’s mother and sister will be okay.

As for Avery, I’ll be here for her, every step of the way.

I take a deep breath and step out of the truck. The late summer air feels thick with anticipation, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming lilacs—Avery’s favorite.

As I approach the entrance, my heartbeat quickens.

This visit is different. I’m not here to steal a few precious hours with her or to comfort her after another news story breaks about her father.

I’m here to take her back to school where we’ll spend our last year in college together before our real lives start—before the draft and whatever our future holds.

Before my knuckles can make contact with the polished mahogany, the door flies open. A blur of honey-blonde hair and a white sun dress collides with me, nearly knocking me off balance.

Avery’s arms encircle my neck, her familiar sugared-almond scent enveloping me as completely as her embrace.

“There’s my girl,” I murmur into her hair.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for this day for forever,” she says against my neck, her voice catching slightly.

“Moving day,” I say with a grin, leaning back to drink her in.

She’s as beautiful as the day I met her, all long legs, freckled cheeks, sun-kissed skin, and shining hazel eyes.

“Ready?” she says, motioning toward the car.

“Should I say goodbye to Katie?” I ask, knowing goodbyes for her parents aren’t necessary.

They aren’t my number one fans these days, especially her father, though I like to think her mother is coming around.

The last time I saw her, she asked me how I was doing without choking over the words and we spent a whole ten minutes making small talk.

Katie, on the other hand, is quickly becoming my little bestie.

Avery winces. “They’re not here.”

I nod slowly, catching her meaning without her saying it.

They didn’t want to see me, didn’t want to witness their daughter going off with the boy they blame for Reginald Astor’s current legal predicament.

“Right,” I say, for lack of anything better.

“My mother’s coming around.” She squeezes my hand. “And Katie loves you. She told me to give you a hug and that she expects you to FaceTime her once we’re back in Ann Arbor.”

“And your father?” I ask, unable to help myself.

Avery rolls her eyes. “My father barely says two words to me these days, and I couldn’t give a crap less what he thinks.”

It’s true. To say his relationship with Avery has been strained since she turned him in is an understatement.

While she and her mother have never been super close, their relationship hasn’t changed much, but when Reginald discovered it was Avery who turned him in, he went on a tirade before fleeing to their vacation home in the Hamptons, as if the law couldn’t find him there.

Shortly after, he was arrested and brought in and charged, and though he’s out on bail, when Avery returned home for the summer, he’d fled back to their summer home.

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I know it’s not my fault.

“Well, I’m not.” She shrugs, her expression hardening. “He made his bed, and now he’s lying in it. Alone.”

“Let’s get your stuff loaded,” I say, changing the subject. “Where are your boxes?”

“In the foyer. I’ve been packing all week, ready to get the heck out of here.”

I peek behind her to find the marble-floored entryway stacked with cardboard boxes, designer suitcases, and a few plastic bins. It’s significantly more than she brought last year. I raise an eyebrow.

“What can I say? Last semester, I had no idea how long I’d be at AAU.

This year, I know I’m not coming back,” she explains, reading my expression.

“Christmas and spring break, I’m staying with you.

I already spoke to Jackson, my father’s driver, and as long as he’s still employed, he promised to bring Katie for visits. If that’s okay with you, that is.”

“Of course it is,” I say, more than happy to be her rock to lean on.

The weight of her decision settles between us. It’s bittersweet, another bridge burned with her family but another step toward our future together.

We work in tandem, carrying her life out to my truck piece by piece. I handle the heavier boxes while she manages the lighter ones, and our movements fall into an easy rhythm. With each trip, the bed of my pickup fills, along with my heart, because after this, Avery and I never have to be apart.

“Last one,” I announce, sliding the final box, marked Books & Journals in Avery’s precise handwriting, into the remaining space in the truck bed. I secure the tarp over her belongings, tugging the bungee cords tight against the gathering breeze.

Avery stands by the passenger door, her gaze lingering on the mansion. There are no tears, just quiet contemplation. When I approach, she turns to me with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing a blonde curl from her face.

“I’m perfect,” she says, and I know she means it despite everything. “Let’s go home.”

We climb into the pickup, the familiar creak of the doors a welcome sound after the oppressive silence of the Astor estate.

The engine rumbles to life, and I ease down the driveway, watching the mansion shrink in the rearview mirror.

Avery doesn’t look back, and as we turn onto the main road, her shoulders visibly relax.

She kicks off her sandals and tucks her feet beneath her, settling into the passenger seat like she’s claiming it as her territory.

“Do you regret not requesting an early release to enter the draft?” she asks in the silence.

I glance over at her to find her eyes on me.

“And miss out on spending our senior year together?” I reach across the center console and take her hand and brush a kiss over her knuckles. “Not for a second.”

She squeezes my hand, her touch warm and familiar. “Even if it means waiting another year for your big NFL dreams?”

“Those dreams can wait,” I say firmly. “Besides, the scouts already know who I am. One more season of college ball isn’t going to hurt my chances.”

The truth is, I’d give up football entirely if it meant keeping Avery in my life.

After everything we’ve been through—the separation, the pain, the secrets—I’m not taking any chances.

Some things matter more than a career, more than fame or fortune.

I learned that lesson watching her father throw it away all for the almighty dollar.

“You know,” Avery says, her voice soft as her thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, “my therapist says I need to stop worrying about being a burden to you.”

I frown. Avery’s been seeing Dr. Coleman since the day her father was arrested, and it’s helped her immensely, but I hate hearing that she thinks she’s anything but a blessing. “You’re not a burden, Avery, and you never could be.”

“I know that’s what you say, but sometimes I wonder if you realize what you’re signing up for. The trial, the media circus, the way people will look at us—at you—when they find out you’re with Reginald Astor’s daughter.”

“Avery,” I say, my voice firm but gentle as I navigate the winding road away from her past and toward our future. “Look at me.”

She turns, those hazel eyes catching the late afternoon sun.

“I’m not signing up for anything. I already signed. Full contract, no take backs.” I manage a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And for the record, I don’t care what anyone thinks. They don’t know you like I do.”

The corners of her mouth lift slightly. “And how do you know me, Damon Huhn?” she asks, a hint of playfulness returning to her voice.

“I know you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” I say without hesitation.

“I know you did the right thing even when it cost you everything. I know you light up when you talk about Katie. That you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating, and you hum Taylor Swift songs in the shower when you think no one’s listening. ”

A blush spreads across her cheeks. “I do not.”