Epilogue
Walker
By the top of the sixth, my no-hit bid was still alive, and I was on fucking fire. No one could touch my curveball tonight. I’d be lying if I said my elbow wasn't feeling it a little bit, but the adrenaline kept me going.
Their next batter stepped into the box and stared at me like he could will the ball into play. I stared right back.
Drake put down the sign for a fastball.
I nodded.
I came set and fired—pure heat, a goddamn laser. Their shortstop swung late, popping a high fly to center that dropped right into Maddox’s glove.
Out number one.
The next batter—Samson—stepped in like he owned the place.
Drake called for a changeup. I shook my head. Samson always chased my curveball. And tonight? I wasn’t in the mood to be generous. I exhaled, snapped my wrist, and watched the ball break hard.
Swing and a miss.
Strike one.
A few pitches later, the count ran full. The stadium was a living thing—roaring, holding its breath, roaring again. I decided to put him out of his misery and went right back to the curveball.
Another chase. Another miss.
Out number two.
One more.
Their last hitter walked up like he had a mission. His eyes never left mine. We both knew what this at-bat meant. I glanced toward our dugout—and behind it, the first row.
My whole world.
Farrah had her hands tightly clasped in a prayer; her eyes focused on me. She quickly blew me a kiss, settling my nerves, grounding me in this moment. I turned back to the plate.
Time to finish the job.
Drake and I agreed on the pitch. I nodded and sent a slider that clipped the zone.
Strike one.
The batter stepped out, jaw tight. He reset and tried again.
I threw the curveball next. He made contact, but it skittered down the foul line.
Strike two.
He fouled off another pitch.
And another.
And another.
It was getting fucking old.
I went with the fastball, daring him to do something with it.
He did.
A sharp line drive tore off the bat and screamed toward the gap between third and second.
“Fuck!” I barked, already seeing the no-hit bid die right in front of me, until Cohen launched himself like a man possessed and snagged it out of the air.
Out number three.
The stadium exploded. I sprinted toward him and jumped into his arms like I weighed nothing. “How the fuck did you catch that? How the fuck were you already there?”
Cohen grinned like a menace. “I’ve got you.
” He smacked the bill of my hat. “I wasn’t about to let that asshole ruin your no-hitter in the World fucking Series.
” My throat tightened. The boys piled in—helmets and gloves and shouting, a dogpile of pure electricity.
The game wasn’t even over yet, but it sure as hell felt like we’d already won.
The rest of the game flew by. Shane came in to close and pitched like his life depended on it. And when that final out, a strikeout no less, landed in Drake's catcher’s mitt at the top of the ninth—when the scoreboard locked in 3–0—the Austin Aviators became World Champions.
Finally.
Streamers fell like rain. Champagne sprayed. The noise was unreal and I was standing on the field trying to burn it into my brain… because fuck, I was going to miss this.
Farrah and Hadley came running toward me. Farrah had Hadley on her hip, both laughing, Farrah crying, and I pulled them into me so hard I felt it in my ribs. I kissed Farrah first. Deep and grateful. Then I kissed Hadley’s cheek as she grabbed for the streamers like they were falling stars.
“You did it, Ace!” Farrah gushed. “I’m so proud of you. You were incredible!”
“Walk win!” Hadley squealed. “Walk win!”
I squeezed them one more time before I got yanked away for the MVP trophy.
What a fucking way to go out.
Hadley went home with Farrah’s parents so we could celebrate with the team—after we showered the champagne off, obviously.
We had a private section roped off at the club, and somehow a few of our siblings tagged along—Aria, Ava, Nate, Nolan—because of course they did. Music thumped. Drinks were flowing, and everyone was loud, happy, and slightly unhinged.
I was having a great time until I looked across the dance floor and saw them—
Ava and Cohen.
Too close.
Too comfortable.
That one night at my apartment years ago flashed through my mind like a warning flare. I shot up. Farrah glanced at me like I’d lost my mind, until she followed my stare. She grabbed my arm and laughed. “Oh my God. Leave them alone, Ace.”
“Nope.” I cut straight through the crowd and planted myself between them, shoving Cohen back with my shoulder.
“What the fuck, seriously, Walk?” Ava groaned.
I grabbed her hand and towed her away before Cohen could even open his mouth. His laughter followed us. The shithead.
“Aria needs you,” I lied.
Ava rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t pull a muscle. “Sure, she does. Ugh. You never let me have any fun.”
I dropped her onto the couch beside Aria and pointed at her. “Not with my teammates.”
“He’s not your teammate anymore,” she shot back. “You’re retired now, old man. Remember?”
Farrah and Aria were both snickering.
“He’s still my best friend.”
Ava sighed dramatically. “Whatever. Fine.”
The rest of the night blurred into celebration. Nate and Nolan disappeared with half my teammates to another bar. Aria talked to Drake for a bit before he bailed early—Elle was out of town again, and he didn’t want her worrying.
Eventually, Aria came back to us, scanning the room. “Have y’all seen Ava? I’m heading out.”
I looked around. “Nope. She’s probably dancing.” Farrah and I stood up. “But when you see her, tell her we went home. I’m exhausted, and we’ve got to get Hadley in the morning.”
Aria nodded, hugged us both, and vanished into the crowd.
Farrah slid her hand into mine as we headed for the door, but she glanced over her shoulder, brows lifting.
“You know,” she said carefully, “I haven’t seen Cohen in a while either.”
Fuck.
Farrah had been busy as hell lately.
After the Aviators clubhouse renovation, her name got out—fast. And it should’ve. What she did to that space was unreal. The team was still gushing over it. She turned the clubhouse from a place we had to be into a place we wanted to be.
Duke Preston was over the moon and splashed photos across various media outlets, singing her high praises.
Wildflower Interiors had blown up since, which required her to hire a few more assistant designers, promote Maddie to a senior designer, and make plans to hire Emma full-time when she finished her degree next year.
I was so proud of her. I got to bear witness to the hard work, the hours, the focus, and the creativity that she poured into this project. Farrah was the real deal, and I think after the clubhouse renovation, she finally believed it herself.
So, while she was buried in work, I was buried in planning my proposal.
Her being busy made it easier to sneak off to my parents' house to string lights throughout the hay loft in their barn and cover it in wildflowers. I’d had my mom lure her to their barn tonight under the guise of needing her design opinions on repurposing it.
I was waiting near the ladder up to the loft, fingers tapping the ring box in my pocket as if it might burn through my jeans. When I heard my mom’s voice and Farrah’s laugh, my heart tried to climb into my throat.
They stepped into view.
Farrah’s eyes found mine, and her brows pinched. “Walk? What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with the guys tonight.”
My mom was smiling so hard she looked like she might split in half. She swiped at the tears already sliding down her cheeks. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, and then practically sprinted back toward the house.
Farrah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gaze sharp. “Okay. What’s going on, Ace?”
I took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Come with me.”
I led her up to the hayloft—our place.
The last time we’d been up here, I’d let her walk away.
Not this time.
She stepped onto the boards, took in the lights, the wildflowers, the soft glow against the hay bales. She turned to me, confusion on her face right up until her gaze dropped.
To the floor.
To me.
On one knee.
The diamond winked in the light. “Farrah King,” I said, voice rough. “I knew you were it for me when I was fifteen. I just… couldn’t legally marry you then.”
Her mouth trembled, and her eyes flooded.
“We made mistakes. We lost time. But we grew up. We found ourselves. And we still found our way back to each other.” I swallowed hard. “You make me whole, and you give my life meaning—you and Hadley both do. I’m so lucky I’m what you wanted because now I’m telling you what I want.”
I opened the box.
“Farrah, I want you to marry me. Will you marry me, Wildflower?”
She nodded, choking on a sob. She swiped under her eyes and dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around my neck.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes!”
I slid the ring onto her finger. She stared at it like it wasn’t real. She grabbed my face and kissed me like forever.
Because this time it was.
“I've always wanted you, Ace.”