Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
But something else happens in that moment.
As he’s spinning through the air, Brock holds out the football, reaching for the white line of the endzone. I feel my own air woosh from my lungs as he falls against the turf, the linebacker who drove into his side falling on top of him.
The whistle blows.
The referee holds his hands up in the air.
Touchdown.
The crowd goes wild, the stadium erupting into an ear-piercing roar of celebration. I don’t even realize I’ve joined in, screaming and jumping up and down, until Taylor pulls me into a hug. “That was amazing!” she yells, though I still struggle to hear her. “I can’t believe he caught that! It was way overthrown.”
A proud smile breaks out on my face. Of course he’d catch it. My man can perform under pressure better than anyone I know. He’s the number one tight end in the league this year for a reason.
The celebrations in the stands continue as the field goal team takes the field. I watch as my brother counts out his steps, lines up the kick, and waits for the snap. The moment the ball is in the air and positioned in front of him, he drives it up and over the goalpost, securing one final point in the game.
Brock is the first one to run out onto the field and throw his arms around Caleb as he’s walking back to the sidelines. I can see their mutual smiles, even from the stands, and I’ve never been prouder of both of them.
The final minute winds down, and the crowd lets out a mighty roar as the visiting Thunder is unable to score any points on their final drive. The Ramblers have won.
They’re going to the championship game.
In his first year with Kansas City, Brock and the team have not only punched their ticket to the biggest game of the year but have rewritten the history books too. They’ve only lost one game this season, the one in Seattle where Brock got his concussion, having the best Ramblers regular season record in franchise history.
Brock also secured a four-year extension to his contract. In fact, it was my dad who pushed for the terms, making sure the main office realized what they had with his addition to the team. He signed that contract quickly, knowing it was going to keep us here for what he suspected were to be the final years of his career.
When the crowd on the field grows, I lose track of Brock in the mix. I know he’s down there, celebrating with his teammates, coaches, and management. It isn’t until I see someone push through the crowd, heading toward the stands, that I realize Brock is on the move.
I stand up on my seat, Taylor reaching out and gripping my shirt so I don’t fall. We make eye contact, matching smiles on both our faces. He holds up his arm, raising his helmet high above his head, and that’s when I see it.
The tattoo.
The sun he had done a month or so back on the underside of his arm. He positioned it there because that’s his favorite place to have me rest my head when we fall asleep at night. The burst of bright yellow sunshine no one knows the meaning of except us.
I wave like a lunatic, throwing my own arms high above my head.
When he lowers his arm, he taps his chest, something he’s started doing after every game. He says it’s for me, where he keeps me tucked during his times of victory and tribulations, in his heart.
Media surrounds him and our moment is lost, at least for the time being. I know there will be much celebrating later tonight when we’re finally alone in our own home. My thighs clench together just thinking about it.
Tonight, I’ll get to hear one hell of a story.
EPILOGUE BROCK
Brock
This has been the best fucking year of my life, and if all goes well tonight, that declaration will be sealed forever. I don’t need the outcome of the championship game to make the declaration official. I just need my Sunshine and one three-letter word.
Pulling into the driveway of our home, I smile, knowing that my girl is inside waiting for me. When this place came on the market in the same gated community as Caleb’s, I knew it was going to be our forever home. I called the realtor, and that night, as soon as Joey was home from work, we went to look at it. She fell in love immediately, and so did I. Not just with the house, but with the future I could see playing out as we live here. We made an offer that night and never looked back.
We’ve lived here for a few weeks, and we’re finally getting settled, but that’s not good enough for me. I want the vision. I want the house full of laughter and love and the pitter-patter of little feet. I want the welcome sign on the front porch to say welcome, with our last name. Not just mine, but ours. I’m ready to take the next step toward making that happen. I just hope she is too.