Epilogue
IVY
Over two years since the hit
And there he is. My Theodore. He stands steady in his navy Horizon Project parka, cane folded in one hand. His smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, soft and proud, and even though he can’t catch every detail, I swear he feels this moment as much as I do.
Teddy didn’t come to the arena alone tonight.
At his feet is a golden retriever, Clover—his guide dog and the world’s most spoiled creature outside his work hours.
Clover’s tail wags furiously as though he knows exactly what we’re celebrating.
We brought him home over a year ago, and he’s been glued to Teddy ever since.
Sometimes I think Clover loves him even more than I do. Almost.
I can’t stop myself. The second the path is clear, I skate straight to the barrier, rip off my helmet, and lean over. “I won,” I gasp, grinning like a maniac.
His hand finds my face, sure and steady, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is hot and shameless, and it steals what little oxygen I had left.
The crowd goes even wilder, chanting my name, but all I hear is his voice against my lips when he pulls back just enough to murmur, “I knew you would. Congrats, my light.”
“Thanks, love.”
“You know,” he says, with the subtle smirk I’ve traced with my mouth a thousand times, “you made that look easy.”
“That’s my MVP stride, thank you very much,” I huff out, still high on victory.
Teddy hooks his arm around my waist, pulling me close despite the sweat. “You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
He presses a kiss to my temple, and my body melts into his. He smells like fresh winter air and something faintly medicinal, probably from the eye drops he still uses. It doesn’t matter; I’d breathe him in for the rest of my life.
His voice drops. “I really do.”
“Good, because me too,” I say, kissing him again.
In the stands, I spot my school friends sitting next to my family—Nevaeh and Amber tucked close together, Ezra waving a homemade sign like it’s his job, and Rio filming it all. The sight of them hits me with a rush of warmth and memory, taking me straight back to the 2026 race.
Max is holding baby Wyatt, who’s wearing comically oversized headphones and a winter coat that swallows him.
He’s chewing on one of his covered fists, eyes wide.
My brother looks slightly overwhelmed in that new-dad way as he cradles my nephew.
Beside him, Kayla sits tucked in with Jasper, his wife Vivian, and Em with her partner.
Kayla lifts Wyatt’s bottle in a mock cheer when she catches me looking.
Vivian rubs her growing belly. Their baby girl is due in a few weeks, and from the way she winces mid-smile, she just got a swift little jab to the ribs.
When my gaze meets Em’s, she winks. That’s the woman we all know and love—polished, brilliant, and feral when it comes to protecting the people she cares about. Only Peacocks’ GM’s daughter Haisley is missing tonight as she wanted to have a night in with her family.
We’ve grown tight over the past two years. There’s something grounding and special about being part of a circle like we have; a group of women who are fierce, funny, and loving.
Between my nephew’s gummy smiles and all the nesting talk from Vivian and Jasper, Teddy and I have been feeling the effects of baby fever.
We talk about the future in semi-serious ways.
There have been playful arguments about cribs, nursery themes, names and night feedings.
Teddy swears he wants to learn how to braid hair, if not for our future kids, for me.
We’re not rushing, but the love is there, getting only deeper with time.
We’ve talked about getting married next year.
I’m still missing a ring, so let’s see what our final timeline shapes up to be.
It’s also my plan to do one or two more seasons of the Circuit before I’m done and ready to be a mom.
Teddy’s vision hasn’t improved; he sees colors and shapes, but not details. He has developed migraines that wake him up with the pain, especially on days when he’s been around bright lights. But even with the limits and the pain, he never lets it dim the way he shows up for me.
He tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re glowing, you know that?”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“I love you, Theodore.”
“I love you, too, my light in the darkness.”
Our mouths meet again in the middle of the celebration happening around us. The kiss tastes like hope and everything we’ve built from the ashes.
After the 2026 season, I cut back my hours at the hospital.
Not because I lost my love for nursing, but because Teddy’s non-profit, Horizon Project, has become our shared passion.
I’m the bridge between the foundation and the hospitals, rehab centers, and clinics we partner with.
When we aren’t working, we’re traveling.
Paris stole a piece of us both last spring.
We ate our weight in croissants, baguettes, and other baked goodies.
He teased me for loving carbs as much as I do, until I caught him polishing off an entire basket of brioche without remorse.
“Fuel for champions,” he said, licking his fingers.
Sometimes, when I lie awake at night with Teddy’s arm curled around me, I think about how I once swore I’d never fall for another broken man.
But Teddy isn’t like the others I met before him.
Yes, he was broken—hurt in ways no one deserves—but he never asked me to carry his weight for him.
He learned to fight for himself, and somewhere along the way, he started fighting for us, too.
Being with him hasn’t left me shattered; it’s made me whole.
Now, we’re living our best lives, enjoying each other’s company and excited about what the future might hold. That’s a whole damn miracle after everything we’ve been through. But we made it together.
THE END