Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
One of the reporters has weaseled her way through the crush and reaches me. She sticks a mic in my face. “Knox, you led your team through a stellar season with eleven wins and two loses in the SEC, unheard of for the Commodores. How does it feel to win the Citrus Bowl?”
Tyler squints up at her. “He’s got my sister by his side. She’s the badass. She’s in medical school. He’s feeling pretty lucky right now, alright.” His head nods with confidence.
That’s right, straight from a kid.
He’s such a good, bright person, and I see Ava in him every day, that chin that tilts up, determination and grit as he pushes himself. It hasn’t been easy, adapting to each other, but he’s mine. My heart dips when he smiles. My hands tuck him in at night alongside Ava. The image makes me smile. I’m not your typical college football player who’s living the high life with frat parties and girls. No thanks.
“Guess he said it all,” I murmur to the reporter.
“Any hopes for the NFL draft? There’s talk of you being a first-round pick,” she says.
“I’m passing on the NFL. I’ve got other dreams,” I tell her.
Ava just shrugs with a smile. Once upon a time, I pictured myself playing professionally, but everything realigned during the year I took off, and I realized I wanted a regular life working with my dad. The older I get—ha!—the more I yearn for stability and her. It’s not a sacrifice to leave the game. I came here. I played. Hell, I won, but my true love is building a foundation, a legacy for my family—plus, shit football hurts and takes up too much time. Even now, my hip is killing me. I want a long, long life, unfettered, unchained from commitments I lack the motivation for now.
Dad and Dane jog over and slide in next to us, pride clear on my father’s face as he slaps me on the back with a big hug. “Congratulations, son. I’m so proud of you.” He gaze encompasses Ava and Tyler and I know besides football, he means them as well. We spend a lot of time with him and Dane, and damn, Dad’s face the first time Tyler asked if he should call him Grandpa—priceless. Tyler meant it as kind of a joke, I think, because he’s got a sharp wit, but Dad’s expression…floored. Then he told Tyler to call him whatever he wanted.
There’s a closeness between Ava and Dad that still surprises me when I see them huddled over a stove cooking or talking about Sith Lords and Yoda, and gah, who knew he was such a nerd about a galaxy far, far away. But then, I didn’t really know that about him because with my mom, Dad suffered too, distancing himself and locking things away. Now, though, things have changed. That year I spent with him and Dane—I don’t regret one moment of it. We took a broken family and learned to heal.
Dane picks me up, no easy feat, and attempts to twirl me around, but he can barely lift me.
“Bro, you have zero upper-body strength,” I murmur.
“Because I’m a serious college student.” He waggles clear, focused eyes. He’s been clean for years, attending NYU. Dad sees him a lot, flying between New York and Nashville.
“This is my future grandfather and uncle. Knox is going to be my dad,” Tyler tells the reporter, who gives him a wide look, laughs, and then bends down to him.
“Is that right? Tell me more.”
I guess she’s going for the personal interest angle here.
Tyler lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s a really, really long story—and I should know it because my future dad likes to tell it, but it started with a love letter he put in my sister’s locker…”
I smile. Technically, it started the moment my eyes met hers freshman year in high school, but I let him begin his way.
Ava meets my gaze, bites her lip, and clasps my hand.
Tyler puts his small hand in my other one.
Dane takes Ava’s free hand, and Dad takes Tyler’s.
We’re a family.
Epilogue 2
The sun is high in the sky as a breeze blows in from the Atlantic. Palm trees rustle in the wind. A sailboat drifts by on the horizon. I take it all in, leaning my elbows on the railing as I inhale the smell of the beach and crashing waves. I soak it up then turn around to check the burgers on the grill.
Lou lounges on a chair and lets out a long whistle. “Damn, I could retire here. What kind of square footage is this place?”
“A gabillion,” Wyatt murmurs. “You should see my bedroom—plush, man, and it’s just a guestroom. I love how Ava’s decorated. Girl’s got great taste.”
I smile unabashedly. Yeah, she does. I loved watching her pore over magazines and meet with designers after we bought it last year.