46. Epilogue Hunter
Forty Six
Epilogue: Hunter
It was the middle of the night, but a few guys stayed behind at the team facility to watch the live feed of the Australian Open.
They weren’t here because they cared about tennis; they were here because she was mine, and they wanted to see her dominate.
Most of them were half-asleep, slouched on benches or leaning against lockers, but the moment Ella appeared on the screen, they snapped to attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off her for one second.
I hadn’t traveled with her as much as I’d wanted to. Rookie season had me chained to meetings, practice, and film; every second was accounted for. But the feed was crystal clear on the big screen mounted in the corner, sound echoing faintly off the concrete walls.
And there she was.
Vivid red hair pulled back into her signature ponytail, her eyes sharp and her chest heaving with every point.
Every swing, every step, and every calculated risk reflected through the screen. All the matches she had fought her way through and all the rallies she had clawed her way back from came down to this final point.
Just as I’d known all along, her fears of choking were unfounded.
With a beautifully placed winning shot, my girl fucking made it and won her first major tournament.
The whole locker room exploded, like we’d just won the goddamn Super Bowl.
Shouts, whoops, high-fives, and elbows flew in all directions.
Lawson, one of our linebackers, nearly lost his balance and grabbed me mid-hug, practically shaking me in his excitement. I let it happen, letting their energy bounce off me, but my focus never wavered from her.
“Damn, did you see that?!” someone yelled.
“She crushed her!” Lawson shouted, nearly spilling his drink in the frenzy.
“Hell yes! That’s our girl!” Bronkowski, one of my fellow rookies, added, slapping a teammate’s back and earning a deadly glare from me.
“Oh, fuck, I mean, that’s his girl!” he quickly amended.
I let the noise, the chaos, and the almost-spilled sports drinks wash over me, but none of it mattered. My chest tightened as I watched her triumph on the screen. Every point and every ounce of effort she’d poured in had led to this moment.
My girl was a grand slam champion. Alone on the other side of the world, while I was watching her do exactly what I knew she could.
I was frozen to the spot, just letting it sink in as the quiet hum of adrenaline rolled through me. My hands flexed at my sides, tracing the tension in my body, while my mind replayed every second of her fight, every calculated move she made.
Even amidst the chaos, my focus was entirely on her, and I’d make sure she knew it would be like this for every second of the rest of her life.
***
The airport was chaos. There were people everywhere, rushing and weaving through the crowd. Luggage wheels squeaked and voices echoed overhead.
Normally, this would have been my definition of hell, but today, none of it registered. My whole body was taut, and my senses were narrowed to one point.
Then I saw her. Fucking finally.
Ella had a bag slung over her shoulder, her hair was messy from travel, and her eyes scanned the crowd until they found me. The moment they did, she paused, recognition and relief washing over her face.
Ella dropped everything and took off at a full run in my direction.
I caught her mid-stride, my arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her off the ground. Feeling her body pressed against mine, the heat of her skin, and the rapid heartbeat beneath my hands, I felt like I could finally breathe again.
She buried her face in my neck, laughing breathlessly. I refused to let her go, hugging her tighter still, before pressing a kiss to her neck.
Relief and fatigue were written across her face as she leaned back slightly, her hand stroking the side of my face. “Thank you for coming,” she murmured softly.
I froze just slightly, jaw tightening. “For coming?” I said, mock-offended, ducking my head so I was looking straight into her beautiful green eyes. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be here, baby?”
Her lips twitched, half-laughing, half-exhausted. “I didn’t mean it like that …”
“Of course you didn’t,” I said, my chest swelling with a mix of relief and pride. “You just better never doubt it again. You did it, Ella. You made it happen. I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life.”
She leaned into me, letting out a shaky laugh. I brushed my nose against hers as I took in her face, memorizing every line and curve.
My throat felt constricted. “I’m so glad you’re back home.”
But when we finally pulled out of that godforsaken hellhole, I didn’t take her home. Not yet.
Instead, I drove us out of the city, down winding roads where cypress trees reached high and bare over dark water.
The winter air carried a sharp chill, but the horizon burned warm — streaks of orange and violet bleeding across the sky, the kind of sunset that looked painted just for us.
Ella sat in the passenger seat, bathed in the soft gold light filtering through the windshield, and slipped her hand across the console into mine. Her thumb traced lazy circles over my knuckles.
She didn’t ask questions; she was completely lost in the connection between us.
Ella knew me, the real me, the man no one else would ever understand or accept the way she did, and still, she leaned closer and closer.
My obsession wasn’t loud, it was gravity, and she’d stopped fighting it long ago.
When I finally stopped, gravel crunching beneath the tires, the world had gone quiet except for the rustle of wind through the trees and the distant call of a bird settling in for the night.
The sun sank lower, gilding her face, catching on the glimmer of her hair, and my chest ached with the weight of what I needed.
Most people would’ve said this wasn’t the perfect moment.
No candles. No roses. No choreographed spectacle.
But with our lives, there was never going to be a perfect moment, and more importantly, I didn’t want perfect. I just wanted her .
Slipping my hand into my pocket, my fingers closed around the small band of metal, which suddenly felt like it carried the whole world.
I pulled the ring free and dropped to one knee beside the open car door, the gravel biting into my skin, the sunset bleeding down behind her. My gaze never left hers.
“Ella,” I said, my voice rough, trembling only slightly.
“I’ve watched you fight. I’ve watched you overcome.
I’ve watched you become everything you were meant to be, and I’ve realized nothing else matters.
We belong together. Every breath you take, every second we have — I want to be the one at your side.
Always. Will you make me the luckiest man alive and be mine forever? ”
Her eyes filled before I even waited for an answer. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause.
“Yes,” she breathed.
The ring slid onto her finger, inevitable, like it had always been meant for her. When she pulled me into her arms, when her mouth found mine, I felt the whole world collapse into a single truth:
She knew who I was. She knew the darkness, the obsession, and the violence, and she chose me anyway.
Ella was mine.
Finally, fully, completely mine, and I would never let her go.