Epilogue
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
brOOKE
Oklahoma sunsets don’t believe in subtlety.
They show up loud and unapologetic, stretching across the sky in streaks of gold and fire reds and purple, like they’re daring you to pretend this moment isn’t important.
Like they know this is our second wedding and it deserves a little drama.
The ceremony is set up in an open field, where an arbor is decorated in a mixture of white flowers and drapes, giving it an elegant but rustic feel.
It’s perfect in the most Oklahoma way possible.
Simple. Honest. Unpretentious.
“You ready for this, baby girl?” My dad tucks my arm in his and kisses the top of my head.
“So ready.” I look up at my dad’s face, my smile wide.
His eyes are a little glassy, and I can see his composure slipping. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Dad, don’t make me cry. I actually made up my face for this.” I laugh lightly.
He sniffs and pulls out a white hankie. “I’m so proud of the woman you’re becoming.
And I know I was hesitant about you and Silas, but I think you bring out the best in each other.
You make each other better. And I’m not sure I could have picked a better man for my little girl.
I wish you both a long, happy, and healthy marriage. ”
I take the hankie and dab my eyes because of course I’m crying now. “Thank you, Dad. I love you.” I sniff. “I know we did this a little … unconventionally, but he makes me so happy, and I hope I make him just as happy.”
“Oh, sweetheart, that boy can’t keep his hands or eyes off of you. He glows whenever you’re around. I think it’s safe to say he’s a very happy and lucky man.” He kisses my cheek this time and wipes a rogue tear.
I suck in a deep breath and tilt my head back to stave off more tears threatening to fall. “Okay.” I exhale. “I’m ready. Take me to my husband.”
Instead of answering, the music starts, and we make our way to the aisle around the guest chairs.
I can see Silas as I turn the corner. Waiting. Looking devastatingly handsome.
Jacket off. Sleeves rolled. Tie loose, like he made it halfway through tying it and decided that was good enough. His cowboy boots peek out from his pants. Buffed and shined.
This man faces roaring stadiums, last-second drives, and entire offensive lines hell-bent on breaking him in half. He’s calm under pressure. Focused. Built for chaos.
But the second he sees me?
His jaw tightens. His shoulders tense. His hands curl into fists at his sides, like he needs to ground himself.
I’ve never loved anything or anyone more.
I start walking toward him, the prairie stretching wide around us, the wind tugging at my dress and hair, like it wants in on the moment. Folding chairs creak as people shift. Friends smile knowingly. Family leans forward.
Someone near the back mutters, “About damn time. I’m ready to party.” Probably a Griffith.
Charlie is already waiting as my matron of honor, and Silas’s oldest brother, Keith, stands next to him.
This might not be our first time promising forever. But it is the first time we’re doing it without illusions.
This wedding? This one comes with thought, love, and more knowledge about each other and what we’re getting into.
When I reach him, he takes my hands immediately, like he doesn’t trust himself not to reach for me if I take another step. His palms are warm. Solid. Familiar. His thumb brushes my knuckle, a habit he does when he’s checking if I’m okay.
Silas breaks his gaze from mine, just for a moment to look at the officiant, this one not dressed in a shiny gold suit, and nods. The officiant smiles and keeps things short. We’ve already said the legal words. Today is about the truth.
Silas is first to say his vows.
He clears his throat and exhales like he’s trying to steady himself. And then he talks about football—because of course he does. “I’ve spent my whole life around football,” he says. “Preparation. Discipline. Learning how to take a hit and get back up. The game taught me how to be tough.”
He pauses, eyes dropping before lifting back to mine.
“But marriage taught me something harder.”
The space between us feels electric.
“How to stay,” he says. “When it would be easier to walk away. When things get messy. When I’m tired down to the bone.”
He tightens his grip on my hand.
“I play a position where you don’t get to look away,” he continues.“My job is simple on paper—pick my person and don’t let them go. Study them. Anticipate their moves. Stay with them, step for step, no matter how long the play lasts.”
His voice roughens.
“Loving you has taught me that real strength is protecting what matters. Showing up even when I’m exhausted. Choosing each other even after we’ve seen how hard things can get.”
His thumb presses into my hand.
“I choose you,” he says, voice low and certain. “Every down. Every drive. Every season.”
My throat tightens, because leave it to him to turn football into a love language.
These vows aren't about proving anything.
They’re about choosing each other—again.
When it’s my turn, I don’t pretend to be graceful or poetic. That’s never been my lane. So I tell the truth instead.“I study the weather for a living. I know how powerful it is. How even small shifts can change everything. I also know that nothing meaningful comes without risk.”
I take a breath, grounding myself.
“Loving you is scary—because I know exactly how much you could hurt me. I didn’t give you my heart blindly. I gave it to you completely, knowing the damage was possible.”
My hand tightens in his. “Recommitting isn’t romantic. It’s brave. It’s choosing each other after we’ve seen the storms, not before.”
I swallow. “You taught me that trust isn’t blind faith. It’s built slowly—with consistency, forgiveness, and a lot of honesty. It’s earned every day.”
His smile nearly blinds me. Looking at me with pride.
“I choose you,” I say. “Every down. Every day. Even when it’s hard. Even when the wind knocks us sideways.” I laugh lightly.
He doesn’t wait for permission to kiss me. But it isn’t rushed or showy. It’s deep and grounding and like he’s sealing a promise he has every intention of keeping.
Cheers explode immediately—loud and echoing across the prairie. And as the sun sinks and the sky turns gold and fire and purple, the string lights flicker on across the grounds.
He pulls away, slightly. Just enough to catch our breath.
“Remember that wish we made in the Bellagio fountain?” he says against my lips.
“Yeah.”
“I wished for this. Seeing you walk down the aisle to me. I wished for it all to be real.”
My smile spreads wide. “That was mine. I wanted this to be real.”
“Looks like our wishes came true.” He kisses my nose.
Could this man be more perfect?
We walk together toward the wedding pavilion, where our reception will be, hand in hand, married again. But this time, we’re stronger, steadier, absolutely sure.
No stadium lights tonight.
No scoreboard.
No pressure.
No promises we haven’t already tested.
Just two people who learned the long game is better when you’re on the same team.
SILAS
The reception is in full swing, but I need a few minutes alone with my wife.
We just finished taking a few pictures on some nearby swings with our friends.
There were three large swings that can hold two to three people on each seat.
All the girls—Brooke, Charlie, Noelle, Chelsea, Emma, Arbor, and Lily—sat on the seats.
Us guys—me, Beck, Casey, Bo, Archie, Ace, and Aston—stood behind them.
It should turn out to be a pretty cool picture.
There’s also an outdoor stone fireplace that has been decorated with the same flowers we used for the wedding, and candles in glass vases are scattered on the mantel and the stone around the fire.
It’s private and romantic and the perfect opportunity to dance with my wife.
The music from the pavilion flows—ironically, they’re playing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley—loud enough that we can hear it.
I take her in my arms because I can’t not touch her. “Can I have this dance, Mrs. Arbuckle?”
Her arms wind around my neck. “I’d be honored, Mr. Arbuckle.”
I pull her in close, placing soft kisses along her neck. “How much longer do we have to stay?”
She giggles. “You want to leave already?”
“Well, I mean, yeah. The food was good, and everyone seems to be having fun, but I cannot wait to get this dress off of you.”
When I saw Brooke walking down the aisle toward me, I nearly dropped to the ground.
She’s wearing a lace wedding dress with sheer long sleeves and an open-back bodice that flows to the ground.
Brooke opted to keep her hair down and flowing.
And I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. Clothed anyway.
“Okay, we can leave soon. I have to admit, I’m ready too. I want to take advantage of the time I have with you this weekend before you go back to Dallas.” She leans up to kiss me.
I was drafted twenty-fourth in the first round by Dallas.
It was one of my choices so I could be close to Brooke while she’s still in school, and so far, it’s working out well.
Still, this summer was a whirlwind, finding a place in Dallas and getting a condo here, where she could live while she was in school.
Then we had to find a weekend that I had a bye because we really didn’t want to wait to renew our vows.
I have to leave on Monday, so as much time as I can spend with her alone, the better.
“How about we go start to make our rounds to say goodbye?” I twirl her as the song comes to an end, then dip her in a kiss.
“Ready when you are.” Her eyes sparkle in the lights.
An hour later, we’ve made it to a small, private cabin, similar to the one we rented in Turner Falls on our mini moon.
The door barely clicks shut before she’s in my arms and looking at me like she can’t wait to see me come undone.
I don’t hesitate. I back her up against the door, slow and deliberate, and feel her smile against my mouth when I kiss her.