Epilogue
Cassidy
Six Months Later …
Six months ago, Cass Cares was just me, a spreadsheet I didn’t understand, and a box of comfort kits stacked in our hallway. It was an idea, a dream, chaos, and a way to try to channel grief into something productive.
Now? We have a real office. A supply closet that always smells like peppermint lotion and cardboard.
A community coordinator who used to be one of our first hospital partners.
Two sponsorships that pay actual invoices on time.
And Amanda—part-time, full-force Amanda—who works four mornings a week from her laptop while her daughter Juniper naps and still manages to out-organize all of us.
We’ve delivered kits to six hospitals now. Tucson came on board in January. Mesa General followed last week. We’re partnering with a nursing program this spring to teach students how to spot families in need of more than just medicine.
It’s not big. Not in the traditional sense, but it’s enough to feel like we’re doing something that lasts. And the crazy thing is … I built this. Not for views. Not for a trend. Not to fix something inside me. Just, for me.
And somehow, it’s working. It’s growing.
My influencer platform looks different now, but it’s somehow bigger than it was before.
More sponsors. More collabs. Not because I push products in perfect lighting, but because I show up.
I’ve filmed reels at hospital visits. At youth baseball clinics.
At comfort kit drop-offs in underserved neighborhoods where the walls are bright but the resources are thin.All of the content was me, the real me, no performing anymore.
People are watching. But for once, they’re watching for the right reasons.
Nate’s even shown up in a few clips—reluctantly, sure, but always with that quiet grin that makes people trust him immediately. We did a joint piece with the team’s community outreach program last month, and it took off. I’m still getting emails about it.
This platform finally feels like it’s mine. Authentically mine. A purpose I believe in. Not just content. Not just grief repackaged into something pretty. But real stories. Real impact.
And somehow … I’m still just getting started.
I leaned back in my chair, legs draped across Nate’s lap, laptop still open, when I caught him watching me.
He was freshly showered, hair damp, skin warm from the sun, and wearing his Gila Monsters spring training polo.
His new role—Director of Pitching Development and Player Engagement—was official now.
Part coaching, part mentoring, part front-office bridge between the farm system and the major league rotation.
It sounded fancy, but what it really meant was: he was the guy players called when their mechanics fell apart mid-season, when their confidence wobbled, or when they didn’t know how to ask for help.
He was the guy sitting in the bullpen before practice with a bucket of baseballs and no stopwatch, just listening.
He still got to be in it. Still got to talk spin rate and arm slot and mindset. But he came home earlier now. He ate dinner with me. He called Amanda just to check in. He took Juniper to the park and complained about tiny socks like they were the end of the world.
And every time I looked at him, I smiled because this role suited him. Completely.
We had already lived through the chaos. The decision. The heartbreak. The redemption arc. And somehow, we also won a World Series along the way. Oh, we moved into my condo together a month after they won and life had never been like this. Never been this fulfilling and meaningful.
“Watcha looking at?” I teased, closing my device and arching a brow. His gaze was pinned on my neck, a sport he was a huge fan of touching.
“You,” he said, pulling my legs so my chair rolled closer to him. “You keep smiling at your computer. Tell me why.”
“Using please would get you further in life, old guy.” I slid off my chair and onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “When will you ever learn?”
He ran a hand up and down my spine, a soft groan leaving his chest when I arched my hips on him. “I like to know what makes you smile. Its my competition.”
I tilted my head back and laughed. He was still wildly jealous and possessive, but it was endearing for me. He was all I saw, but it was still fun flustering him. “Mm, what’s the fun in telling you then when you get all caveman and sexy with me?”
“Cassidy,” he said in that deep, growly voice. He nipped at my neck, his hands dipping into the waistband of my shorts. “Why are you always such a pain in the ass? When will I know peace?”
“Oh, my sexy man, you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me if you wanted peace. That’s on you.” I then lifted the edge of my tank top and tossed it onto the table. Nate’s gaze heated as his lips parted, his attention moving toward my nipples. “Hey, we’re having a conversation, eyes up here.”
“If you wanted to have a conversation, then you shouldn’t strip with your perfect tits in my face.
Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He leaned forward, gripping my waist as he took one nipple in his mouth.
“Mm, yes,” he groaned, lifting me and setting me on the table.
He set my laptop onto the chair and in one smooth motion, he shoved every paper onto the floor.
“Hey, those were—”
“I need to taste you. It’s been too long.” He leaned over me, his eyes an even darker green as he grinned. “I want to taste my woman. You’ve been working too long.”
“Too long?” I argued, but not with real heat. We’d been adjusting to the spring training schedule, and with my work picking up, we were busy. Like, busy busy so our time together was limited the last week. “You realize you’ll be gone on road trips again, yes?”
“And I’ll stroke my cock thinking of this moment when I’m away.” He undid the button on my shorts and pulled my shorts and panties down, setting them on the chair. “Fuck, look at you. I knew I needed a snack.”
My skin heated as he spread my thighs and dragged his tongue over my clit. The pleasure was instant, the sensation of his tongue and fingers causing a loud moan to escape.
“Yes, baby, I want all your sounds.” He hummed against my clit, nibbling it as he slid two fingers into me. “I want you coming on my face twice before I fuck this perfect pussy.”
I shuddered. Nate’s dirty talking only got me hotter in time. He was a freaking animal in bed, in foreplay, in the shower. Everywhere. Despite our age gap, he showed no signs of slowing down. “Oh god,” I moaned, my thighs tightening as he brought me close to an orgasm. “Yes, yes just like that.”
I gripped his hair, closing my eyes when he stopped. “Wh-what?”
“I want you to watch me use my tongue to make you come.” He sat in the chair and pulled my legs until I was on the edge of the table. “Sit up and keep your eyes on me.”
Holy shit. I did what he said and used every cell in my body to hold off on the orgasm.
Seeing Nate O’Brien, the world series MVP on his knees for me caused me to lose my control.
The orgasm exploded out of me, my entire body shuddering as I came and came, Nate never once stopping his fingers or mouth.
“That’s it, love, don’t hold back. I can take all of you,” he murmuered, kissing the inside of my thighs as I caught my breath. The gentleness of his tone conflicted with the filfth of his words but that was my man.
Unhinged, dirty, the best partner I could dream of.
“I love you so much,” I said, melting when his eyes softened for me.
His tongue was inside me and his tongue working my clit for a second time, but it was his damn eyes that did me in.
They were filled with so much love, it consumed me.
I had found my person. It didn’t matter if we got married or not, had kids or not, he was my other half and I knew we were meant to find each other.
“Come here,” I begged, reaching for his shoulders when he swatted my hand away.
“I asked for two orgasms.”
God, I loved how bossy he was. It was no use fighting him, so I let myself relax into his mouth yet again, losing myself to a second orgasm before he finally lifted me off the table and carried me to our bed.
“Taste yourself on me, baby, you are delicious.” He didn’t wait before claiming my mouth, kissing me hard and fast, yet his hands were so gentle as he set me down.
Within seconds, his shirt and shorts were off, and his rigid cock stood against his stomach as he stared down at me.
“I fucking am obsessed with you, Cassidy Calloway. I always will be. I hope you know that.”
My eyes prickled at the way he stared at me, the intensity in his gaze. “I need you close, come here.”
This time, he obeyed. He slid his cock into me as he cradled my face, his hips moving in slow thrusts. He kissed my jaw, my neck, my mouth, each thrust the same painfully slow movements.
“I love your mouth,” he said, then kissed my shoulder. “I love this body, your brain, every part of you.”
“God, Nate, I love you too.” I closed my eyes, overcome with joy and pleasure as he rocked into me.
He gripped my ass and arched me up, going even deeper.
I held onto him, taking in the scent of his cologne mixed with sunscreen, the way sweat pooled between our chests as he made love to me.
Because that’s what this was, that’s what we did.
Sometimes, it was hot and aggressive, where we pushed each other’s comfort zones.
But sometimes, it was like this, gentle and loving and it didn’t matter how it happened, I always felt safe and loved and happy. “You feel so-so good, oh I’m close—”
“Come for me, love. I want to feel you on my cock now.”
And I did. I spasmed, digging my nails into his back as he pumped into me, our combined moans and orgasms interrupted with kissing.
“Fuck, how does it always feel so damn good?” He kissed my temple, then rolled off me, his hand never leaving my body though.
He was always touching me, reminding me he was there.