Epilogue
QUINN
Four months later
Nerves wrack through me to the point where I’m about to throw up.
My dad is standing beside me, holding my hand.
My mother is on the other side of me doing the same.
Not a single person in the entire stadium here in Arizona is sitting down, not even the influencers or celebrities who don’t care about the game but want to be photographed here.
This Super Bowl, for all its show, is a gridiron, pounding game.
We’re also fucking tied with less than two minutes left, and San Francisco is driving the ball down the field. Our defense is gassed but is fighting to their last breath.
Mason comes over and drops his arm on my shoulder, his helmet in his hand.
Crew is standing in front of us, rocking back and forth with his hands pulling down on his jersey and pads.
He’s anxious to get back out there. He dropped a pass and it’s eating at him.
I mean, he also caught a dozen others and scored two of our touchdowns, but that one drop will haunt him if they don’t win.
This season has been off the hook.
Russel was cut before my father left the hospital.
He’d texted Russel’s agent, then called him to make sure he got it when he didn’t hear back immediately.
He also let him know that he’d contacted the NFL about what he overheard and was completely onboard with any investigation they deemed necessary.
It was a total and complete shitshow.
For my dad, for Crew and Mason, for me for sure, but most of all for Rhett.
He had to make a public statement that was not in favor of his son’s actions and agreed with the punishment Asher set forth.
I knew it hurt him in an all-new way. He admitted that his relationship with Russel had been weak and strained over the years.
He wouldn’t comment on why Russel came to the team—or if he had been used to make that happen—but he told the world point-blank that he didn’t know about the betting until Russel admitted it to him the morning he was cut.
He said he hoped his son got help and that he loved him and that if Russel needed him, he’d like to one day be part of his life.
There was a ton of speculation that Rhett was part of it, but he stayed steady and steadfast and consistent, and the team rallied around him.
They rallied around me too. I corroborated Rhett’s story to the point where I told the press that Russel had been using me to garner a better reputation, but that he and I had never rekindled our relationship.
My brothers and father stated the same thing when asked.
As far as I’m concerned, Russel can burn.
As for Rhett, I love him and it’s his son so I didn’t crucify him as hard as I could have.
At the end, Russel was found guilty of betting and suspended from the league for one full year, which makes it longer than only this season.
He cannot return until the end of October next season.
And of course, a team would have to pick him up because as of right now, he has none.
Braelyn is pregnant. Skylar’s little girl is a freaking gem of a baby. Haye’s situation… well, that’s a story for another time because right now San Francisco is on our thirty-yard line with a first down.
Mason pulls away and starts to pace back toward the benches behind us.
He hates watching when the defense is on the field.
The clock ticks down, San Francisco burning as much of it as they can, and we only have one time out left.
We could burn it, and part of me thinks maybe we should?
I don’t know. I’m not a football girl. Not fully. I mean, my guy is and I trust him.
My dad, still stuck with his coach’s brain is mumbling for Rhett to take the time out.
And for a moment, Rhett looks like he’s about to. Especially as the clock ticks down to the one-minute mark. Yet as San Fran lines up, Rhett pulls back and reaches behind his back and wiggles his fingers at us.
Rhett just signed ‘wait’ to us.
“Holy fuck.” That’s Mason.
“Yeah.” That’s my dad.
“Quinn, is that legit?”
That’s Crew, and all I can do is nod because he’s been trying to learn ASL over the last several months.
“Fuck!” My dad. “I guess we’re waiting?”
“Have faith, Dad.” Crew twists his head to us.
“You realize that because he’s in love with my daughter, I can’t fire him now?”
I laugh. So does Crew.
“You’re not firing him because we’re not fucking losing.” That’s Mason and I smile. We all do. That tone is his fierce warrior, we’re going to win this motherfucker tone.
San Fran lines up like they’re going to throw the ball, but Rhett shakes his head and says something to his defensive coordinator, who speaks into his headset.
“It’s a fake,” Crew says. “Or at least he thinks it’s a fake. Fuck!”
Crew spins around and drops his face onto my shoulder. I hold him by the back of his head while he breathes as if he’s running sprints.
“Shit. Am I hurting you?” he breathes against me.
“I’m good,” I promise him because I am. It was a loooonnnnngggg recovery. Lots of time with PT and OT. Lots of time getting stronger and building myself up. Lots of time working to stay on my feet and adjusting to life without a spleen, which, as a medical provider, isn’t so easy.
But Rhett was by my side the entire time.
Hell, the man refused to leave. Long nights and dark mornings and helping me in the shower and all the spaces in between. He’d hold me and smile and kiss my lips and tell me I was his. And I was.
He legit moved himself into my house before I got home. I accused him of being a stalker but was happy to have him there instead of my parents moving me into their place or Crew trying to do that. Rhett told them he had me, and he wanted to be the man in charge, and he was.
I’d push back, uncomfortable with the vulnerability or him taking care of me.
He’d tease me and say it was nice to know I’d do the same in his old age, which was around the corner—his words not mine—but he also didn’t listen to my shit.
He loved me with undying intensity despite all the obstacles and social crap.
And because of him, I became stronger, faster.
I didn’t step foot into the OR until the end of December, two months after the accident. It was brutal for me. I was chomping at the bit. But I also couldn’t compromise patient care, so it was what it was.
“Tell me when it’s fucking over!” he barks against me.
“He signed wait. Wait! Oh my fucking god!” I grip the back of Crew as San Fran drops back and looks like they are actually going to throw the long ball, but a half-beat later, they throw a short-center-screen pass, but our guys are ready.
Gabriel Jackson is on it, reading the signs and the play, and nails their guy out of the way to intercept the ball.
“Oh my god!” I scream at the top of my lungs and Crew jumps back and spins around at the same time. He flies into the air, his arms rising higher. Mason—hell, all of us—are right there with him.
“Go! Go!” Mason is yelling. We all are. But he’s running down the field as fast as he can go. He’s slow and runs out of steam and the opposing team is able to grab him and bring him down. But we’re on the fifty-yard line with forty-six seconds left.
Mason gives our dad a look. Then gives Crew the same one.
“Coach?” He yells out for Rhett, who comes over. “We’re winning this motherfucker right here.”
“You have a thought?” Rhett asks.
“They’ll be expecting us to play it cautiously. To get within field goal range, which is only another twenty yards. We have a first down and a timeout so there’s plenty of clock to play with. They’re going to expect some short passes to the sidelines.”
Rhett tilts his head. “Talk to me, Captain. What’s your game plan?”
It’s not a question, but Mason and Crew are in this right now.
“Fade route left, fake to Daniels, and hit Crew on the right by the twenty.”
Rhett stares his QB down and finally nods. “This is your play, Mason Reyes. Your legacy. Make them feel it.”
The three of them fist-bump and head onto the field. Rhett walks over to me the moment my brothers and father are gone, wraps his hand around my neck, and kisses me right here on the fucking field at the Super Bowl.
“What are you doing?” I cry out.
He grins against my lips. “Staking my claim, Dr. Reyes. While the world will be all over your brothers winning this game for us, if there are pictures of me kissing you, all I’m going to say is it’s about damn time.
” He gives me a wink. It’s a little dirty and a lot flirty.
It’s all I get before he saunters back to the sidelines like a fucking hot-as-sin boss.
Mason goes out and throws the fucking ball up in the air despite the analytics and the world saying it’s a mistake. Crew catches it and runs out of bounds at the thirty-three.
We line up and do a running play that ticks off more seconds until we hit sixteen. Then we call a timeout. My heart is beating faster than it ever has before. So fucking hard. My parents’ grip on my hands is bruising. We’re all a mess.
But my guys are not. They’ve got this. The three of them work as a unit and head back onto the field.
They could kick the field goal, but there’s enough time to run another play.
Mason fakes the handoff but runs a fade route, and one of our receivers nabs the ball and trails out with ten seconds left.
The field goal unit lines up, and the kicker boots the ball straight through the double sticks to win it.
And the world goes sideways with excitement.
Rhett picks me up off the ground and buries his lips against mine.
We kiss as if the world were on fire around us, which it legitimately is.
It’s one thing after another. Confetti and trophies and awards, and it goes on and on. Mason wins MVP. He shares it with Crew.
Shockingly, no one asks Rhett about me. Maybe they didn’t catch the kisses, or maybe no one wants to chat about it at the Super Bowl. Who knows.
All I know is by the time we make it back to the hotel, it’s late, and we’re all wiped out. Happy. So fucking happy! OMG, we won the Super Bowl with a brand-new coach and a broken yet strong team. We freaking did it despite the flak the adversity and the doubt.
“Ah!” I scream and it comes straight from my lungs. “You did it! You’re a Super Bowl-winning coach, and you did it in your first year!”
I get a side-eye. “You understand that intensifies the pressure, right? It means no one will expect a losing season from me again.”
I roll my eyes. “Newsflash, Coach: You’re going to lose again. You’re going to have losing seasons. But you fucking won this one. Enjoy it.”
“Fine,” he says as we reach our room. “I’m having the time of my life.”
“What are you? Dirty Dancing?”
His hand wraps around my neck, and he brings my forehead to his. Then he starts singing “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” to me.
And when he reaches the part about owing it all to me, he drops down to one knee right here in the hall like he couldn’t wait another second.
My breath hiccups and for a beat, I think he’s joking. But he’s not. This isn’t a nobody puts Baby in the corner moment. This is my guy proposing.
“Quinn, I met you in a bar. But I saw you before we spoke. And from the first second I saw you, I knew there was something about you.” His chin tilts up until our eyes lock.
“I was going to move and shift and fuck up everything about myself for you. I’d do anything for you.
For the rest of our lives, you have me, no matter what, no matter the moment, I am, eternally, in the red zone, five seconds left on the clock, forever offsides yours. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I somehow manage to say despite the tears seeping from my eyes like a river. “Yes.”
A smile lights up his face, showcasing his dimples and gorgeous eyes locked behind his glasses. He slides a giant diamond onto my finger and holds my hand, staring at his ring on me as if he can’t believe it.
“You had this with you all night?”
He winks at me and stands. “It was my good luck charm. I was going to do it on the field if we won, but this moment is for us. Not the cameras.”
“I love you,” I tell him, running my fingers along his cheek as he dips and kisses my knuckles above the ring.
“Dr. Quinn Jones—”
“Oh! I get to be Dr. Jones! Like in Indiana Jones!”
Rhett sighs dramatically even as his face plants into my neck, and he unlocks the door to our room. “I knew there was a catch. I knew you agreed too easily.”
“How about you remind me where my new name will come from?”
He grins against my lips. “Baby girl, I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to all night! And for the rest of your life.”
Want more of Rhett and Quinn? Download their BONUS EPILOGUE now! Turn the page for an exclusive excerpt of Forever Secret, Hayes’s book.