Epilogue
Finn
Four and a half months later…
The whistle blows and the season dies.
We lost. The final score flashes up on the big screen. A bright, digital insult. Glasgow takes the win, but it doesn’t gut me. Ninth in the league. For a team cobbled together a year ago, it’s a fucking miracle. I feel the sting of the loss settle in my muscles, more exhaustion than disappointment.
The changing room reeks of sweat and blood and shower gel as I scrub off the full eighty minutes. Thirty-six to Glasgow, our final match of the season. Not a shellacking, but not the fairy tale ending either.
Water sluices down my back as I replay Coach Wallace’s post-match speech. ‘Not what we deserved, but for a first-year club? We’ve scared the establishment. Next season, we climb.’
And you bet I’ll be here to climb with them.
I shut off the shower and haul my towel off the rail. My muscles ache in that satisfying way that tells me I’ve given it my all, left everything on the pitch. The boys around me are subdued but not devastated. We know what we’re building here.
‘Oi, pretty boy,’ Connor calls from across the room. ‘You coming tonight or has your ball and chain got other plans?’
I flip him the finger as I towel my hair. ‘My ball and chain, as you so respectfully call her, has a beautiful name.’
‘And the rest of her has your nuts in a vice,’ Connor adds, swatting my shoulder as he passes.
‘Jealousy’s an ugly colour on you.’ I pull on my joggers. ‘When’s the last time a woman waited for you after a match?’
Jamie scoffs in his corner. ‘And yer maw doesn’t count, Duffy.’
The room erupts in that specific brand of laughter that only exists between men who’ve bled together often enough. Even Scottie cracks a half-smile, which is rare these days.
‘Piss off, the lot of you,’ Connor grumbles, but there’s no heat in it. ‘So, Sin & Tonic at seven? First round’s on the captain.’
Brodie groans. ‘When did we decide that?’
‘Just now,’ Scottie pulls on a black tee. ‘You can expense it to Charlie.’
‘I value my balls too much for that,’ Brodie says. ‘But I’ll inform her of your great idea when she’s back from that sponsor meeting, ya prick.’
I laugh and grab my phone. A text from Theo.
Waiting outside. Brought sustenance. Ready when you are, Sexy MacSwagger.
My heart does that squeeze that it always does when I see her name. Five months together and I’m still like a teenager.
‘You coming tonight, Finn?’ Jamie asks, zipping his kit bag.
‘Later, aye. Got something to do first.’
‘Something or someone?’ Connor waggles his eyebrows.
‘Grow up, mate.’ But I’m grinning, can’t help it. ‘We’ll be there. Wouldn’t wanna miss celebrating the end of the season.’
I grab my bag and head for the exit, ignoring the wolf whistles behind me. The corridor stretches ahead, concrete and fluorescent lights, and then I push through the double doors into the afternoon air.
The whole world sharpens.
Theo leans against the wall, scrolling through her phone. Her dark hair falls in soft waves around her face, and she’s wearing a little blue dress dotted with tiny white anchors that hugs every curve. Mary Janes with white socks, like some fantasy librarian come to life.
My cock gives a hopeful twitch. Nope, I’ll never get tired of that view. Not even when her hair’s white and she walks on a stick.
I’ll love this woman for the rest of my life.
She lifts her gaze as the door closes behind me, and her smile hits me square in the chest.
‘Hello there, my favourite rugby star.’
I drop my kit bag and pull her against me, breathing in that scent that’s become home. ‘Hello, List Girl. We lost.’
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small tin. ‘I brought celebratory biscuits.’
I laugh. ‘We lost, Theo.’
‘These are for finishing your first season without getting arrested or knocked unconscious more than once.’ She bops my nose. ‘A proper achievement for Finlay Lennox.’
‘Fair point.’
Her fingers find my wrist, tracing the small cherry tattoo I got last month.
‘I can’t believe you did that.’
‘It reminds me of you.’ I kiss her temple. ‘Your blouses. Your lip balm, your soap…’
Five months of learning every inch of her body, of watching her come beneath me, against walls and furniture and countertops.
Five months of discovering that sex with one woman – this woman – is more addictive than all the flings that came before combined.
Other women have ceased to exist. They’re background noise.
There’s only Theo’s frequency, and I’m tuned in all the way.
I pull her closer. ‘Sin & Tonic at seven,’ I murmur against her ear. ‘That gives us a couple hours.’
‘Good. Are you ready?’ She takes my hand.
‘Naw, but let’s do it anyway.’
We walk to my car, her heels clicking against the concrete.
The BMW chirps as I unlock it. Theo sinks into the seat as if she belongs there.
As far as I’m concerned, she does. Preferably straddling me, swearing in that bossy wee voice.
I wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years, but prim and proper Theodora MacMickin has developed a thing for car sex. And I’m more than happy to oblige.
I toss my kit in the back and settle behind the wheel.
‘You know,’ she says as I start the engine, ‘lesser men would be upset after losing. But you’re grinning from ear to ear.’
I reach across and rest my hand on her thigh, feeling goosebumps rise under my palm. ‘Other men don’t have you waiting for them after.’
She rolls her eyes as she always does, but I catch the pleased smile she tries to hide.
I pull out of the car park, my hand still on her leg. The season’s over, but something much better is beginning. I never thought I could be this happy with one woman. Never thought I’d stop chasing the next thrill. But Theo MacMickin has me in the palm of her tiny hand.
Fifteen minutes into the drive through Glasgow, I roll down the window and let the air rush in. Theo’s singing along to the radio, something indie that she knows all the words to.
‘So I’ve been thinking.’ I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as we stop at a red light.
She turns to me, eyebrows raised. ‘Is this a threat or a confession? I never know with you.’
‘Ha bloody ha. Serious, though. Remember that meeting I had with Charlie last month?’
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘The one where you both went suspiciously quiet when I came into the room?’
‘That’s the one. It’s about the charity thing, the second part of my redemption arc, as you two called it.’ I take a breath. ‘I’m starting a foundation.’
Her head snaps toward me. ‘A what now?’
‘A foundation for children. For weans with parents who have mental health problems.’ I keep my eyes on the road but feel her staring at me. ‘Kids who need someone to see them, to listen. Who need to know they’re not alone.’
I glance over. Theo goes still in the way she does when everything inside her is moving too fast.
‘Because of what you told me about your mum. About how you handled her depression all by yourself. How nobody noticed. How you became this tiny adult much too early.’
She blinks once. Then again. Her mouth moves, but she doesn’t speak.
‘You should’ve had support, Theo. God knows how many children out there are struggling in silence. I can’t go back in time and change your past, but maybe I can change someone’s future. It’s a surprise.’
When I look again, the tears are already halfway down.
‘Ah fuck. Don’t cry, baby.’ I reach over and brush my thumb across her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if—’
‘No.’ She catches my hand and presses it against her damp face. ‘It’s perfect.’
I park the car.
‘You should include children of parents with addiction,’ she adds after a moment. ‘Because everything you just said, I’m saying right back at ya.’
‘What?’
‘Your dad. Your mum. The way you learned to be the loudest person to distract from the pain. How you still sometimes expect everyone to leave.’
She knows me. She knows all of me. I let her know all of me, and it’s everything.
‘Charlie’s already talking to the solicitors,’ I say. ‘We can set it up however we want. Make it ours.’
‘Ours?’
‘If you want.’ I turn in my seat to face her properly. ‘I want you with me on this, Theo.’
She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans across the console. Her lips brush mine. ‘I’m with you. Always. Come on, let’s go.’
I pull the flowers from the backseat. White carnations. Theo chose them, said they symbolise the restoration of innocence after death. Not so sure about that, but they’re better than nothing.
Riddrie Park Cemetery stretches before us, rows of headstones marching across the hillside. The grass is patchy, more brown than green, and the wind bites through my jacket.
Been putting it off long enough.
We follow the path toward the far corner where the common plots sit. My heart pounds. Six months ago, I’d have been gasping for air by now, vision tunnelling, chest constricting. But I’m not alone anymore.
‘Row seventeen.’ Theo examines the small map she printed. ‘Section C.’
No headstones here, just small metal markers with numbers. The council’s efficient solution for those who die with no one to claim them. Or with someone who refuses to.
Like me.
I didn’t go searching for his grave. But Theo did. Made calls with the council, filled out forms, tracked down the plot number while I pretended it didn’t matter.
‘It’s this one.’ She stops. Nothing to show Grant Lennox ever existed.
The air turns to tar in my throat. ‘Bit underwhelming, isn’t it?’
Theo stands beside me, patient and present, as I stare at the patch of soil that’s covered my father since his funeral almost half a year ago. She knows when to speak and when to let the quiet do its work. But she squeezes my hand, and I’m grateful for it.
‘For years, I used to imagine what I’d say to him if I ever got the chance.’ The words are scraping my throat. ‘Had a whole pissed-off speech prepared about what a fucked-up father he was.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I’m just tired and sad.’ I crouch down. ‘I wish I had some clear memories of him, but I don’t. Maybe that’s for the best.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ She crouches beside me.
‘After he left, I’d make up stories about where he’d gone. Secret agent. Rock star. Anything but the truth. Addiction and prison.’ I touch the earth with my fingertips. ‘His father was the same. And his da before him. Men broken by shipyards closing and jobs disappearing. Well, you know.’
‘Not an excuse,’ Theo says calmly. ‘But an explanation. Context matters.’
‘Aye.’ I place the carnations down. ‘He did his best. It wasn’t very good, but it is what it is.’
The wind picks up, rustling through the leaves.
‘When I was eleven, I tried to visit him in prison. Took three buses to get there.’ The memory still burns. ‘He wouldn’t see me. The gate staff rang through, and he told them to send me away.’
‘Oh, Finn.’
‘All my life I thought it was because he didn’t care. Now I wonder if he was trying to protect me. From seeing him like that. Or becoming him.’
‘Both can be true,’ she says. ‘People are complicated.’
‘Either way, I turned out awright.’ I look at Theo, her eyes shining with unshed tears. ‘Better than that, actually. I found you.’
We crouch in silence for a moment, before the words I kept inside for so long finally leave me. ‘I never got to say I hate you. Or I forgive you. I didn’t get to say a damn thing to you. But…it’s forgiven,’ I say to the patch of earth. ‘For my sake and yours.’
In January, I couldn’t have imagined speaking those words. Couldn’t even have imagined feeling them.
Theo tightens her arms around my waist.
‘Bye, Da.’ The words are heavy on my tongue. ‘I hope you found some peace in the end. Wherever you are now.’
I stand and pull Theo up with me. Her eyes are wet, but she gives me a wobbly smile.
‘I’m so proud of you.’ She rises on tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
‘For what? Rambling at a grave?’
‘For breaking the cycle. For being brave enough to feel all this instead of running from it.’
‘I do enough running in my professional life, you know.’
She laughs.
I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her hair. ‘You’re my family now.’
‘And you’re mine – and Elvis’.’
I’ve never belonged to anyone before. But Theo and her fluff demon? I’m theirs for good.
As we walk back to the car, hand in hand, I feel lighter somehow. Not healed – I don’t think that’s how grief works – but different. As if I’ve put down something heavy I’ve been carrying too long.
The cemetery gate creaks as we pass through. I glance at Theo, this woman who tracked down my father’s grave, who holds me through nightmares, who loves me not despite my damage but somehow because of it.
Later, we’ll join the Stirling Rebels at the Sin & Tonic to celebrate the season. I’ll watch Theo disarm Connor with her quick wit and make Brodie smile. Perhaps she’s in the mood to eviscerate someone at the pool table.
Aye, I like it when she does that.
But right now, this moment is enough. Her hand in mine, the promise of tomorrow.
I spent my whole life trying to outrun pain, outdrink memory, outfuck loneliness. Theo didn’t save me, she just held me. She walked into my life with her lists and her laughter and her impossible belief in me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.
Love is not the absence of pain. It’s choosing someone worth hurting for, worth staying for, working through it together.
I’d walk through hell to keep her safe. To make her proud. To be the man she sees when she looks at me. Loving Theo is the only thing that’s ever made me feel like I’m more than the damage I carry. And that’s not running. That’s coming home.
— THE END —