Chapter 28
Ollie
Backseat Driver by Kane Brown
The Bridger Falls middle school gymnasium smells like popcorn and varnish that they use on the floors like they’re trying to cover up the smell of stinky middle school boys.
Because there’s plenty of that smell, too.
The bleachers are half full of families yelling and cheering.
The energy in here is jittery, chaotic, and fun—the way a middle school basketball game is supposed to be.
I’ve watched the boys we’ve been coaching for the past few weeks grow into a team and encourage one another. I’ve watched them improve, smile, and be happy. And that’s something Principal Masters says didn’t happen when Coach Toddy was coaching.
Ellie’s tucked into the baby carrier on my chest, warm and perfect in her tiny baby way, completely unbothered by the noise. Her little head rests against my chest like she was meant to be there all along. And she has, I just didn’t know it.
Poppy’s sitting in the bleachers with Cami, Violet, Mack, and Maggie as Owen’s team runs onto the court.
She’s trying to act casual, but she’s beaming with pride.
She wanted to hold Ellie, but I couldn’t let her go, she was sleeping so well.
The second Owen spots all of us, his whole face breaks open into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.
Not a middle school trying-to-play-it-cool grin.
A full, unfiltered, that’s my people and they showed up for me grin.
And I swear, in that moment, standing there with a baby on my chest and the woman I love watching that kid light up because we showed up…
I’ve never felt more exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Not just a smile. A full-on, heart-bursting grin. He points at us, at Ellie, and pumps his fist before scrambling into position.
My chest tightens.
“That look,” Poppy says softly as she comes up beside me. “He’s so happy.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. “Yeah.”
We cheer like maniacs. I clap one-handed, careful not to jostle Ellie, and Poppy yells Owen’s name. He plays better because we’re all here. Like knowing we’re here makes him more confident.
Poppy leans in closer, her mouth brushing my ear. “You know you look ridiculously sexy right now, right?”
I blink. “Oh, yeah?”
She grins, eyes flicking to the baby carrier. “Oh, yeah. Holding a baby and coaching a basketball game. It’s unfair how sexy you look right now.”
“Good to know,” I say with a smirk.
“Yeah, just wait until later.” She grins and gives me a look.
I huff a laugh. “What’s going to happen later?”
She shrugs. “You’ll find out.”
I roll my head back and look up at the ceiling, “You can’t whisper this to me right in the middle of a game.”
“Just keeping you on your toes. I can’t help it that you look like a walking, talking sex dream.”
I laugh, then say softly, “I thought you didn’t want this life.”
She looks at me then, softer than I’ve ever seen her. “Maybe I just want you,” she says quietly. “And whatever comes with you. I just want you, Ollie Kendrick.”
My heart clenches at her words. Because deep down, hearing it means everything to me.
“Because I love you, Ollie,” she continues. “Ridiculously, obsessed, in love with you. I want to be your wife, mother to your baby, and do life with you. Because it’s a pretty great life.”
The gym noise fades into the background like someone turned the volume down on the world. I tip my forehead to hers without thinking, my hand finding hers automatically.
She’s right. It is a pretty great life.
The house is quiet, and the kids are finally asleep.
And if you’d tell me that I’d be saying that very sentence just a few months ago, I wouldn’t have believed it.
I shut the door softly behind me and peel out of my clothes, dropping them in a trail on the floor like I’ve been waiting all day to do this, because I have.
“I need my wife,” I tell her, low and urgent.
Her smile is slow and sexy. “I need my husband.”
She tilts her head toward the baby sleeping in her bassinet next to the bed. “She just had a bottle. If my predictions are right, we’ve got a two-to-three-hour window.”
“I’m going to need every minute of that for you,” I say softly, like it’s a promise instead of a threat.
I catch her legs and draw her closer, easing her to the edge of the bed with unhurried care.
She lets me, trusting, watching me with that open look that always knocks the breath out of me.
I settle between her knees, grounding myself there like this is home.
Because it is, I could live here. I could live anywhere as long as she’s with me.
My smile turns slow and reverent. She squirms under the weight of my attention, already flushed, already undone, and I don’t rush it. I never want to rush this part. I want her to feel how seen she is. Needed. I hit the jackpot with Poppy. I’m going to worship this body.
“I need you,” I murmur, lowering my mouth to her.
I breathe her in as I move closer, the familiar scent of her wrapping around me, steadying me in a way nothing else ever has. My lips brush her skin, slow and reverent, like I’m reminding myself that this moment is real.
“I’ve needed you all day.”
Her hands slide into my hair, not frantic, not unsure. Certain. Like she knows exactly where I belong. Her fingers tighten just enough to make my breath hitch, grounding me, claiming me back in the quietest way.
“I need you more,” she says, her voice soft but unshaking.
I pause, pressing my forehead to hers, eyes closing for a beat. My chest feels too full, like if I open my eyes too soon, I might lose this. Like I need one second to absorb the fact that she’s here, that she’s choosing me, that we’re standing on the other side of everything.
I kiss her again, slower this time. Deeper. Not rushing anywhere. Pouring everything I can’t put into words into the way my mouth moves against hers. Gratitude. Want. Relief. Love that’s been stretched thin and survived anyway.
She sighs into me, a soft sound that loosens something in my chest, and I pull her closer, hands fitting to her like they always have. Like they always will. I trace her back, her sides, memorizing her again, not because I’ve forgotten, but because touching her like this feels sacred.
We fall back onto the bed together, not breaking contact, not wanting to. Knees hit the mattress, and she goes with me willingly, pulling me down with her, laughter and breath mingling between kisses. The dark closes in around us, warm and safe and private.
I hover over her for a moment, just looking. The way her eyes shine. The way her chest rises and falls. The way her hands rest on me like I’m home.
“Hey,” I whisper, brushing my thumb along her jaw.
She smiles, small and real. “Hey.”
That’s all it takes.
I kiss her again, unhurried, letting the world fall away until there’s only us and the bed and the steady rhythm we find together. The way we fit. The way we always seem to come back to each other when it matters most.
Nothing else exists. Nothing else needs to.
Everything else can wait.