Page 29 of The Last Person (Baker Girls #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

brIAN

I can barely process what’s happening.

I’m surrounded by the team, the crowd is deafening, and I think I just won the goddamn Super Bowl. But it’s hard to give a shit about any of that because Ryan is in my arms, kissing me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered. Like I’m the only thing that will ever matter.

Noise from our teammates is what makes us break our kiss, but when we do, I don’t set him down. I just raise my eyebrows and smile.

“Well, I guess people know now.”

His smile is brighter than the field lights. He slides out of my arms, that smile morphing into a smirk that sets me on fire. “You think they noticed?”

I glance around. “Might have.”

“Hardison! Ackley!” Coach calls, cutting through the crowd of players. He shakes his head. “A heart attack wasn’t on my bingo card for today.”

I open my mouth to say something, but Coach waves a hand.

“We’ll deal with that after we finish winning this game.”

As we head to the sidelines so the special team can head out for the point after touchdown play, I slip my hand into Ryan’s and Wendell falls into step beside us.

“Guess you found your right time too.”

Right probably remains to be seen, but I’m not mad the world knows.

Mark smacks my shoulder, then throws an arm around Ryan when we get to the sideline. “You always have to make everything about you, don’t you? Winning wasn’t enough.”

“If anything, I was making it all about Brian. Being in a relationship now, I understand that it’s not just about me.”

I bite back a laugh.

“Well, at least I’ll have fewer people interested in my retirement,” Wendell says.

Normally, I’d be sick to my stomach over what we’re going to have to deal with and how invasive people will likely be after all this, but with the high of making the winning play in the Super Bowl and finally being with the man I love, it’s impossible to be anything but elated.

Okay, now I’m nervous. Postgame press conferences are never one of my favorite things to do, but of course, we got tapped for tonight’s.

Coach, Mark, and Wendell will talk with them afterward, but I’m not stupid enough to believe the questions Ryan and I will get will have much to do with me winning the game.

I still can’t believe that happened. Wendell’s words stuck with me all game, and not going for that interception would’ve been giving up. I saw the play, and I ran with it. Literally.

As we finish getting changed, I force myself to take deep breaths.

We didn’t confirm anything to the team yet, and while we’ve gotten plenty of looks, no one has said anything—good or bad.

Though with the way Wendell and Mark run the team, it’s unlikely anyone will risk saying something shitty out loud.

“Hey,” TJ says, walking up with Beckett. “Look, we’re not necessarily going to presume anything, but we know how close you two have always been—”

“If we crossed a line with shit we said at any point,” Beckett cuts in, “we’re sorry. The last thing we want is for you guys to feel unwelcome or unsafe here.”

“Yeah, we’re idiots sometimes, but we’re not assholes.” TJ tilts his head like he’s not sure about that. “Not total assholes.”

Ryan glances at me. “It’s all good. And for the record, it hasn’t been going on the whole time, but it is the real deal. Hopefully, everyone can wrap their minds around it by next season.”

“We’ve got your backs no matter what,” Beckett says.

“Thanks,” I say, grateful, if a little surprised.

He smacks my shoulder and they walk away.

“Hardison, Ackley, Abbott, Pierce! Let’s go,” Coach says.

We’re all slated for different interview combos. Ryan and me first, then Mark and Coach, then Wendell and Coach.

Mark and Wendell fall into step with us.

“Why do I feel like I’m doing the walk of shame to the principal’s office?” Mark asks.

“Got me,” Ryan says. “We just won the Super Bowl. Smile a little, Markie Mark. We all deserve to be happy after this win, no matter what press questions we get or how they spin the articles.”

He gives my hand a quick squeeze, and the two of us walk through the door into the press room. Coach is waiting near the door and nods for us to have a seat at the table in the front of the room.

My stomach twists. Every fiber of my being hates this. I’m great at looking calm and collected, but inside I’m on a roller coaster of torture.

Once we’re seated, Coach steps up next to the table. “I expect there to be actual questions about football and not tabloid gossip, or I’ll usher these two out of here faster than they sat down.”

There are vague nods of affirmation, but it’s not like it’ll stop them. We just might catch a couple of football questions first.

“This question is for Brian,” a female reporter says. “How did it feel to make the game-winning touchdown, especially as a defensive player?”

At least I get one worthwhile question.

“It’s really special to be the one who helped bring the win home for our team, but as incredible as it was, I barely realized what was happening in the moment. My focus was on making the play and getting as far as I could.”

“Was that a planned play?” another reporter asks.

I chuckle at that. “No. It’s hard to plan a play when you have no idea what’s going to happen. We had some encouragement from one of our team captains to play the best football possible. I was just trying to live up to that. I saw the opportunity, and I took it.”

“And you got quite the celebration from it. Hardy, were you planning to kiss Brian?”

Here we go.

“At that exact moment? I wasn’t really thinking. I followed my heart.”

“So it wasn’t a PR stunt?” someone else calls.

“I’m not in the habit of kissing teammates for PR,” Ryan says.

At least I’m up here with Ryan. He makes everything easier, not only on a personal level, but with his general attitude.

“Does this mean you’re gay?”

Coach swears under his breath, but he lets us continue. Probably because he knows the questions will never end if we don’t.

“I think you’re missing a few letters if you think that’s the only option. I’m personally not a fan of labels, but if you need to assign me one, let’s stick with queer.”

“And Brian, what about you?”

“I’ve known I was bi since I was in my early teens. Personally, I’m out, but publicly and professionally I chose to wait. Not because I’m ashamed, but because I’m private by nature.”

People call out over the top of each other. “How long has this been going on?” “How does the team feel?” “How long have you identified as queer?”

Hardy holds up a hand. “Though Brian and I have been friends for a while now, the transition into a relationship was recent. Like a lot of people, I assumed I was straight, and I never really questioned it. But that’s mostly because my sexuality isn’t really important to me.

Love is what matters, and I love Brian more fiercely than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. ”

“Even football?”

Ryan glances at Coach. “I have a feeling I’ll get in trouble if I answer that.”

“What will this mean for the team going forward?”

“If you’re asking if we’re going to be fucking on the field, the answer is no.”

“Hardison,” Coach yells.

My lips tick up, and I have to fight back my smile.

“Seriously.” Ryan looks around the room of reporters. “Does your relationship affect your ability to do your job? Does anyone ever ask you about that? We’re here to play football, and our relationship doesn’t affect our ability to do our jobs.”

“So, you won’t be bringing that to practice?”

“What? Our queerness?” I ask.

“Ackley,” Coach hisses.

“You say it won’t affect your job, and yet you kissed on the field tonight.”

“Yes. I kissed my boyfriend after he won the Super Bowl. How many of you complain when girlfriends and wives run out to their guys and kiss them after the big win?”

The room falls silent.

“There’s only a double standard here if people decide to create one.

We’re football players here to do our job, and when we leave the stadium at the end of the day, we’re a couple.

But if you think I’m going to skip the opportunity to kiss my man after he wins us the Super Bowl, you’re crazy.

And if that’s the most interesting thing that happened tonight, your priorities and interests are severely misplaced. ”

Coach clears his throat and steps up to the table. “If there aren’t any further football questions, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

He nods for us to get up, then waves Mark over.

As we walk toward the door on the other side of the room, Mark takes the mic.

“Before we start, I just want to say that we’re proud of Hardy and Ackley, and as a team, we support them one hundred percent.

The Bandits are excited to lead the way when it comes to inclusivity in professional football.

” He nods at us. “Now, let’s talk about football. ”

We step into the hallway, and I let out a long sigh. “Well, that was fun.”

Ryan opens his mouth, but a voice behind us interrupts him.

“Well done, boys,” Chet Collins says. “Do you hear the trade rumors swirling yet? I’ll admit, you made my life harder by making the winning play, Ackley. Now who do I trade? The Super Bowl winner or the star wide receiver?”

“I don’t think now’s the time to talk about trading anyone.”

Behind him, Mike Brady walks up, the picture of calm confidence.

He’s a former pro QB, who happens to come from old money.

He played for the Bandits for a few seasons before an injury took him out.

A couple of years later, he bought the team.

He’s not quite thirty yet, and though he’s still growing in his understanding of what owning a team means, he knows football.

Chet’s face turns red, but he’s trying to maintain a relaxed expression as he spins to face Mike.

“Mike, I was—”

“Just harassing two of our best players? It’s not the best look.”

Chet chuckles darkly. “What? You think you have a play here? You’re going to fire the GM who just won you the Super Bowl?”

“I watched an entire team bust their asses all season to get here. But that’s for me to worry about, not you.”

Mike walks past him and looks at us. “Well done tonight, boys. Be proud of that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ryan says.

“Jesus, don’t call me ‘sir,’ Hardison. I’m not that old.”

We both stifle a laugh as he keeps walking. Thankfully, Chet spins on his heel and storms in the opposite direction.

I lean against the nearby wall, overwhelmed.

Ryan steps in front of me and takes my hands. “Forget about all that noise,” he whispers, then presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Let’s celebrate with the people who really matter.”

I’ve never been a partier. Clubs aren’t my scene. Loud music is overwhelming, but tonight, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

“To the Super Bowl winners!” Justin shouts, popping a bottle of Champagne and pouring it into glasses.

“This is the first—and will probably be the only—time during my pregnancy when I’m bummed I’m pregnant,” Hallie says. “I wish I could be here all night celebrating with you, but I’m already crashing.”

Wilson wraps his arms around her. “We can celebrate more with them tomorrow, Hellion. You and baby need some rest.”

“So do you,” Devon says to Kennedy, who is leaning against him, half asleep.

“I’d argue, but I’m too tired.”

“I’m sorry we’re so lame,” Hallie says.

“There’s nothing lame about growing tiny humans,” I tell them.

Ryan whistles to grab the bartender’s attention. “Do you have non-alcoholic Champagne or sparkling juice? Anything like that?”

The bartender nods and pulls out a bottle.

“Before you go, I want to make a toast,” he says, filling a glass for each of them while Justin fills the rest with Champagne.

“This isn’t about winning the Super Bowl, not specifically.

This is for all of us, for everything we’ve achieved both personally and professionally in the last year.

We’ve grown, we’ve accomplished things, and greater than all that, we’ve found love.

And together, we’ve created a beautiful chosen family that I’m honored to be a member of. To all of us.”

“Cheers,” everyone calls, even Keaten and Christy, who are also with us.

I wrap my arm around Ryan and whisper, “Cheers.”

His eyes find mine filled with love, excitement, and a hint of lust. But there’ll be time for that later.

We say goodbye to Kennedy, Devon, Hallie, and Wilson, then Christy yells, “Let’s dance!”

Everyone follows as she leads the way to the dance floor. The club is mostly filled with Bandits players and their family and friends tonight. It’s somehow both low-key and upbeat.

Ryan’s fingers are laced with mine as we step onto the dance floor. I instantly wrap my arms around him and pull him close.

“Are you okay being here?”

I dip my head down, my mouth close to his, and splay my hand over his ass. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight than basking in your brightness.”

Then I slant my mouth over his and grind against him, enjoying every second of his body against mine as we celebrate our win and the freedom to get lost in our love.