Chapter 36
Taysom
Two Months Later
The spreadsheet on my laptop is mocking me.
I’ve been staring at it for twenty minutes, trying to focus on the budget breakdown for the new pediatric concussion research initiative, but my brain keeps wandering to Charlotte, who I talked to three hours ago. And will talk to again in approximately four hours.
I’m pathetic.
“Focus, Reed,” I mutter, scrolling through the proposal one more time.
When Raj first suggested restructuring the charity, I wasn’t sure. My foundation has always been about general youth athletics—we did a few things with concussion research, getting teens active, keeping them safe. Sponsoring the Sports Institute was a big part of that.
But the more I researched pediatric concussions, the more it clicked into place. The long-term effects, prevention strategies, and how intervention can change a kid’s entire trajectory.
It’s not just about football anymore. It’s about every kid who takes a hit—on the playground, in soccer, falling off their bike. It’s about giving them a second chance.
And okay, yeah, Charlotte’s influence is all over this. The way she talks about her work, the passion in her voice when she describes helping kids like MJ—it made me want to do more than just write checks. I want to be part of the solution.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kyle.
You home?
Yeah, why?
Just checking.
Weird. But Kyle’s been weird ever since he found out about me and Charlotte.
At first, he sent me a text that just said “don’t mess this up” with approximately seventeen skull emojis.
When I moved to D.C. and started training with the Commanders, he called to tell me he was “cautiously optimistic” about our relationship, which is Kyle-speak for “I approve but I’m watching you. ”
Then, as the weeks apart from Charlotte grew into months, he’d taken to saying things like, “I think your couple name should be Charsom.” And “You should let me name your first born. You have me to thank for you two even meeting in the first place.”
Which makes me think about how cool it would be to have a family with Charlotte.
But lately, he’s been oddly quiet about the whole thing.
There’s a knock at my door, and I glance at the clock. 8:47 PM. I’m not expecting anyone.
I open the door, and my heart stops.
Charlotte’s standing in my hallway, holding a pizza box and wearing the biggest smile I’ve seen.
“Surprise,” she says.
For a second, I can’t move. Can’t do anything except stare at her like she’s a mirage that might disappear if I blink.
“Are you—” I start, but she’s already pushing past me into the apartment.
“Mercy Pizza delivery,” she announces, setting the box on my kitchen counter. “Though I have to say, flying across the country with pizza is not ideal.” She smirks. “The TSA agents had questions.”
“You flew here? With pizza?” She’s got to be joking.
She tilts her head to one side. “Technically, I flew here with two suitcases and a dream. The pizza I picked up on the way from the airport.” Her eyes are bright. “Surprise?”
“You already said that.”
“I’m running out of material. I didn’t plan much past the grand entrance.”
I cross the space between us in three steps and pull her into my arms. She melts against me, and for the first time in weeks, I can breathe properly.
In the months I’ve lived in D.C., I’ve flown her out here a couple of times, but I go back home to San Antonio more often so that I can also see my mom, Kyle, and my former teammates.
“I missed you,” I say into her sunset hair.
“I know.” Her voice dances. “You told me three hours ago.”
“Well.” I chuckle. “I missed you more since then.”
She laughs, and the sound fills every empty corner of this huge apartment. It’s comfortable luxury, but I’m not used to it yet.
“Missed you more,” she says.
I pull back just enough to look at her. I take in her warm brown eyes. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, but—”
“I’m moving to D.C.”
Her words hit me like the linebacker who sacked me in last week’s game. “What?”
“Well, not tonight. I have to pack up my house and there’s paperwork and logistics, but—” She’s talking fast now.
“I’m opening a new branch of the Early Childhood Center here, in connection with Georgetown.
Ron’s been working on it for weeks, and I didn’t want to say anything until it was definite, but it’s happening.
We got the funding, and the university is on board, and I’m going to run it. ”
I’m still processing. “You’re moving here.”
She bites her lip. “Is this okay? I know we didn’t exactly plan this together, and I don’t want you to think I’m just following you or that I’m giving up everything for—”
I kiss her because she’s here and she’s staying. When I finally pull away, she looks a little dazed.
“I’m taking that as a yes?” she says.
“Of course that’s a yes. Charlotte, are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She reaches up and cups my face with both hands. “I love my job. I love working with kids. But what really lights me up is the chance to do work I love in the same city as the guy I’m in love with.”
My heart does something complicated in my chest. We’ve expressed our love for each other many times, but it still affects me. “Say that again.”
“The guy I’m in love with?” She’s smiling now. “Yeah. You. In case that wasn’t clear.”
“I love you too.” The words come out rough.
She kisses me again, softer this time. “I wanted to bring Miley, but in the end, I decided to save all the other passengers’ ear drums and leave her with Willa again.”
I pull back. “It would have been fun to see her. She’s growing so fast. But yeah, thank you, Willa.”
“Kyle says he’ll come out with me when I move.”
“He knew you were surprising me this weekend?”
“He helped plan it. Why do you think he’s been texting you weird stuff all week?”
I laugh. “That explains a lot, actually.”
“So you’re really doing this,” I say, still not quite believing it. “New center. D.C. Miley.”
“And you.” She grins. “Mostly you. The center is a close second.”
“What about MJ?”
Her brow crumples. “I’ll miss her a lot, but we’ll keep in touch. Lynette and I have become friends, and I’ll always keep a close eye on her case.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed by all of it. By her. “I don’t deserve you.”
“I think we deserve each other…in a good way, of course.” She’s smiling. “And that concussion research proposal you’ve been working on? I’m impressed. How’s that going?”
I’d let her in on the plans Raj, others on the team, and I have been working on. She’s been offering her insights. “I’ve been wrestling with the spreadsheet again.” She walks over to my laptop, peering at it. “This is really amazing, Taysom. I’m so proud of you.”
“It’s because of you.”
“It’s because of you.” She turns to face me. “You’re the one doing the work. You care enough to make a difference.”
The pizza’s probably getting cold, but I don’t care. I pull her close again, and she wraps her arms around my waist.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say.
“You’re stuck with me now.” She tips her head back to look at me, and we stand there a minute, just holding each other, and I think about how much has changed since that moment my rookie year when I first noticed Charlotte Mercer wasn’t just Kyle’s little sister.
“Hey,” she says suddenly. “Remember the day we reconnected? When you came to the center and interviewed me against my will?”
“You were not my hostage!” I click my tongue. “But I’m sorry about all that.”
“Well, I completely lost it and asked you to save our center and then was mortified after.”
I smile and kiss her soft, warm neck. “Despite the complications, I really liked that day.”
“Me, too.”
She giggles and I don’t know if it’s because her neck is always a bit ticklish, or because she’s giddy, like me.
“I was just thinking about that day because I wore the wrong outfit and got fired.”
I raise an eyebrow.
She gestures around. “This is the part where I’m wearing the right outfit and getting exactly what I want.”
I look down at her clothes—jeans that fit just right, a soft blue sweater that makes her eyes and hair pop, and pink converse sneakers. I circle her waist with my hands. “I do like this outfit.”
“I’m just glad I’m wearing something I love right now.” She reaches up and kisses me. “It’s fitting because here, with you, is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
And looking at her—standing in my apartment, in my arms, planning a future I didn’t know I could have—I have to agree.
She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.
We both are.