Epilogue
EPILOGUE
A Few Weeks Later
Glendale, Arizona
“You know, there is so much that I want to call complete bullshit on now that we’re real adults,” Breaker whines from his seat next to me. The crowd in Arizona is practically deafening as the eighties pop star I didn’t recognize but who’s songs I somehow knew every word to finishes her set down on the field. At home, the Big Game seems huge, gigantic, ethereal.
In real life? It’s a kind of atmosphere that can only be described as electric. Truly, every second that ticks by, every play, even the half time show feels like I’ve stuck a fork into a socket and let it buzz.
“What are you calling complete bullshit on, my love?” I ask, gingerly draping an arm over Breaker’s shoulders, taking care to avoid the sling that holds his still healing injury. He complains about the damn thing every day, but according to his doctor, physical therapist, and most importantly, me, he needs it. His shoulder is his entire career, and he was lucky to escape that game at home in Santa Clara with only a dislocation.
“All that crap they feed us about “get a job you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life?’ Bullshit! This is the hardest day I’ve had in my entire life.” He pulls his lip into a sweet little pout as he nuzzles into my side, and as hard as I try not to laugh at him, I am unsuccessful.
“Breaker, baby, you realize you’re not working right now, don’t you?” I chuckle, and he whines and burrows his face further into my arm. Yeah, despite Breaker’s heroics before he was injured, the Redwoods didn’t make it past our next game. The whole administration was a mess. Coach Elliot was “strongly encouraged to move on” from his position due to “values that don’t align with the future of the Redwoods”, AKA James Adler quietly fired his ass for his homophobia and public mistreatment of players. Our tight end, Antoine Pak, filled in as quarterback during the next game while Cannon, Kasper, and Breaker all watched from the sidelines. We tried our darndest, but in the end, Minnesota eked out a win with a field goal near the end of the fourth quarter, eliminating San Francisco from the playoffs.
I should have probably been more upset, but I was honestly relieved. All I wanted was more time at Breaker’s side as he healed, and the longer I had to play, the further I was from the other half of my heart. Besides, it hasn’t been all bad. The Adlers bought boxes here at Apex Center Stadium and flew out the entire team and our families so we could all eat, drink and watch the big game together. If the rumor mill is to be believed, both Breaker and I should be looking at contract extensions and raises going into next season. Who knows if he’ll be starting next season, but as long as he sticks with his physical therapy through the spring, I have no doubt he’ll be out on the field with me, rocking the stage with me the way we do.
Buckner passes two cans of some fancy import beer down to Breaker and I, and hold his up to his lips. He snatches it away from me as he pretends to scold me. He pretends to hate the way I’ve been babying him through his recovery, but I know he loves it. He’s totally yucking up his downtime, and I’ve been more than willing to cater to his all of his needs.
It would be rude to leave the guy hanging with an injured jerk off arm, after all.
“Do you think we’ll ever be down there? Playing in a Big Game together?” Breaker asks me as the teams run back on the field for the second half of the game.
“Oh without a doubt. If you manage to keep your shoulder in it’s socket where it belongs next season—” I start, and he knuckle punches my thigh, “I know for a fact we’ll make it all the way, and we’ll definitely be winning.”
“You’re just so sure of that? That we’ll not only make it, but we’ll win the Big Game together?” he asks, blinking up at me with those beautiful golden eyes, and I feel a honey-like warmth spread throughout my belly. I lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling his peppermint scent as I bury my nose into his hair.
“One hundred percent sure, baby. If we’re going to convince Georgie Adler to turn our story into a romance novel, we’re going to need a good ‘proposal on the field after the championship game’ moment to really sell it.” I smirk at him when he hits me with a wide eyed stare.
“Lennon Griffith, you had better not propose to me before I propose to you. After all you put me through, I earned the right to create the big moment!” He shoves my chest playfully, and I pretend to shove him back.
“What I put YOU through?” I ask, pressing a dramatic hand to my heart in shock. “Please, Breaker. You bullied me for months! If I had pigtails, you would’ve been yanking them during practice.”
“Hey! I only picked on you because I loved you. Didn’t you know that’s how boys show their affection?”
I push a lock of shaggy brown hair out of his perfect face, biting my tongue to keep from mentioning the simple black ring hiding in a sock in the back of my dresser. I don’t plan on breaking it out anytime soon, we’re still so young, but we both know that what we have is forever.
“Fine, baby, I’ll let you propose to me, as long as you promise to let me carry you around on my back until I’m too old to lift you,” I concede, and he hits me with his mega-watt Breaker smile.
“Deal,” he says, leaning in to seal it with a kiss.