Epilogue
Beck
The clock winds down to zero, and the roar of the stadium hits like a wave. Home crowd. Division rivals. A late interception sealed the game, and the sound is the kind you feel in your bones.
But before the celebration fully explodes, before the reporters start circling and cameras swing toward the end zone, my eyes find them.
Sophie’s there, tucked into a cream sweater with my jersey over it, a foam finger in one hand and her other arm wrapped around Caleb’s shoulders.
She’s beaming, cheeks flushed from the crisp California evening, hair tucked into a beanie.
Caleb’s waving both arms like he’s trying to get my attention from miles away, as if I’d ever miss them.
I tug my helmet off and wave, and even from here, I catch Sophie’s grin. That’s the one that still gets me every time.
They stayed local when I got drafted. I was lucky—a team just a couple hours from campus, close enough to keep our roots where they’d always been growing. Sophie finished her degree, landed a job she loves, and somewhere in between, she opened her heart even wider.
Sophie brought Caleb into her life in a different way right after she landed her job after graduating college, just a few months before I proposed.
She went through the training, the home visits, the paperwork, all of it, and by the time we got engaged, I knew I wanted to be in it with her fully.
I started the process too. Passed the background checks.
Sat through every class. Signed my name on the dotted lines.
Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
He’s ours now, even if it’s not permanent yet. Fostering is like that, loving with open hands. There’s a chance adoption will happen, but even if it doesn’t, Caleb has a home with us for as long as he needs it.
I jog across the field, ignoring the few cameras that try to grab me on the way out. There’s only one place I want to be.
The security guard at the rail grins and steps aside like he always does. Caleb launches himself into my arms before I can even speak, legs wrapping around my waist, helmet still dangling from my fingers.
“Did you see the last play?” he says breathlessly. “You crushed it!”
I laugh, spinning him once. “I saw. You cheering so loud helped, I think.”
He grins like that’s the best thing he’s ever heard. Sophie steps up beside us, and I lean down to kiss her, still holding Caleb on my hip. She tastes like hot chocolate and home.
“You played amazing,” she murmurs against my cheek.
“I had my lucky charms here,” I say, tapping her foam finger with my helmet. “Of course I did.”
Her eyes soften. It’s been over a year since we said “I do,” but moments like this still knock the air right out of me.
I look between the two of them, Sophie standing beside me, Caleb still tucked against my chest. Football has given me a lot. But they are my world.
The stadium lights blaze behind us, reporters shout from the sideline, teammates slap me on the back as they head for the tunnel. I don’t care.
My wife’s hand slips into mine. Caleb rests his head on my shoulder. And for the first time after every game, win or lose, I know exactly where I’m going.
Home.
By the time we make it home, the adrenaline from the game has finally started to fade, replaced with that warm, bone-deep exhaustion that only hits after a long day.
Caleb talks the entire car ride, reenacting plays, insisting he called the interception before it happened, and asking a dozen questions about what happens if we make the playoffs again this year.
Sophie just smiles at me over the console, that quiet, amused look she gets when she knows I’m loving every second of it.
The house smells faintly like cinnamon from the cookies they apparently made earlier, and the moment we step inside, Caleb kicks his shoes off, drops his hoodie on the bench, and bolts down the hall to grab his favorite dinosaur pajamas.
“Five minutes,” Sophie calls after him, hanging up her coat. “Teeth, face, pajamas, then bed.”
“I knowww,” he groans from down the hall, and I have to bite back a laugh because he sounds exactly like a teenager trapped in a seven-year-old’s body.
We follow him a few minutes later, finding him already tucked under his comforter, dinosaur plushies tucked around him like sentinels.
He’s still buzzing from the game, but his yawns are starting to catch up.
Sophie leans down to smooth his hair back from his forehead, and I sit on the edge of the bed next to him.
“You were awesome today,” he says through a sleepy grin.
“You think so?” I ask.
He nods hard. “The interception was the best part. Everyone was yelling so loud.”
“Yeah, they were,” I murmur, smiling. “But you were louder.”
That earns me a sleepy giggle.
Sophie turns to switch off the lamp, leaving just the nightlight glowing softly in the corner. Caleb rolls onto his side, hugging one of his dinosaurs tight. “Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Beck.”
Even after a year, the “Mom” still hits Sophie straight in the heart. I see it in the way her smile softens, in the quiet way she brushes her thumb across his cheek. “Goodnight, buddy. Sweet dreams.”
“Night, champ,” I say, giving the top of his head a light pat before standing.
We step out and leave his door cracked just enough for the nightlight to spill a little glow into the hallway. Sophie leans against me as we head toward our room, her head resting on my shoulder.
“He’s getting so big,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I murmur, wrapping an arm around her. “And louder.”
We move through the quiet house, the hush after Caleb’s bedtime settling around us like a warm blanket. Sophie’s still in my jersey, hair tumbling loose from her beanie, the flush of the night lingering on her cheeks.
She disappears into the bathroom, the door left open, and I hear the faint sound of water running. I stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching her—her reflection in the mirror, the soft light catching the curve of her neck as she gathers her hair into a messy knot.
I step up behind her. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and something in me goes soft and hungry all at once. I slip my arms around her waist, pressing my chest to her back, feeling her relax into me.
“You know,” I murmur, nuzzling her hair aside so I can press a kiss to her bare shoulder, “every time I see you in my jersey, I swear I fall in love with you all over again.”
She grins, her eyes meeting mine in the glass, a little teasing spark lighting in her gaze. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” My hands slide under the hem, finding warm skin beneath cotton, and she shivers against me. I watch her reaction in the mirror—the way her breath catches, the way her cheeks flush deeper. My fingers trace slow, lazy circles along her hips, up her sides.
I dip my head, kissing the spot just behind her ear. She shivers, her eyes fluttering closed, but I murmur, voice low and thick, “Keep looking, Soph. I want you to see what you do to me.”
Her breath catches. I watch her in the glass, her cheeks flushed, lips parted. My hands slip under the jersey, palms flat against her bare stomach. I drag them up, slow, savoring the feel of her skin, the way her body arches into my touch.
When my hands find her breasts, I squeeze, gentle at first, then more insistent, thumb brushing over her nipples until she whimpers. I watch every reaction—her lashes fluttering, chest rising faster, the way her thighs press together. One hand slips lower, fingers gliding down her belly.
I bend, pressing another slow kiss to the side of her neck. She sighs, her eyelids fluttering. My hands slide down, fingers hooking in the waistband of her pants. “Let me see you,” I whisper, voice thick.
I slip her pants and panties down, letting them puddle at her ankles. She steps out of them without looking away from the mirror, her bare skin gleaming in the soft light. I drag my hands back up, cupping her hips, then her stomach, then higher beneath my jersey.
“Keep watching, Soph,” I murmur, meeting her gaze in the glass. “Don’t look away.”
I palm her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, watching her shiver, her breath quickening. My hand slides lower, tracing over her stomach, between her thighs. She gasps, her body arching into my touch as my fingers find her, already slick and needy.
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” I growl, voice rough with want. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how perfect you are when I touch you.”
Her hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles white, her eyes never leaving mine in the mirror. I tease her, slow at first, circling her clit until she’s trembling, then slip my fingers inside, curling just right. Her lips part, a whimper slipping out, cheeks flushed.
“Beck—please—”
“You want to come for me right here?” I ask, moving my fingers faster, my free hand squeezing her hip. “Want to see how you look when you fall apart?”
She moans, her back arching, body straining for more. “Yes, yes, I—”
Her eyes try to flutter closed as she nears the edge, but I lean in, my mouth hot against her ear. “You know the rules, pretty girl. Eyes on me when you come.”
She obeys, meeting my gaze in the mirror as her body tenses, her breath stuttering.
I don’t let up, coaxing her higher, until she falls apart for me—her mouth open, eyes wide, everything raw and unguarded.
I watch every shudder, every wave of pleasure roll through her, my own need burning sharp and urgent.
I turn her in my arms, kiss her hard, and she melts against me, shaky and sweet. I scoop her up, carrying her to the bed, laying her down and following her, hungry for more.
She tugs at my shirt, and I strip it off, then continue baring myself to her. Her hands roam, desperate and greedy, tugging me closer. I push inside her in one slow, deep thrust, swallowing her gasp with my mouth.
We lose ourselves in each other, every movement slow at first, then faster—her body rising to meet mine, our hands tangled, hearts hammering. She clings to me as she comes again, her pleasure pulling me over the edge with her.
We collapse together, breathing hard, tangled in the dark, the mirror’s memory burning behind my eyes. And as I hold her, feeling her heartbeat slow against mine, I know there’s nowhere else I’ll ever belong.