Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Epilogue 1

The stadium explodes with applause, blaring music, and flashing lights. Several Vandy teammates slap me on the back.

“Killer throw for that last touchdown, man!” yells James, my go-to wide receiver. “Citrus Bowl Champs! I can’t believe it! Best season we’ve had in years!”

“Kickass season,” says Marlon, the quarterback coach, as he gives me a handshake then changes his mind and throws in an affectionate man-hug.

Whipping my helmet off, I murmur a response as the fans rush the field.

My eyes aren’t on them though. I’m looking for the blonde who sat front and center on the fifty-yard line. I did my damn best to keep my head off her during this last game, but she’s always there, floating in and out of my thoughts. Her heart-shaped face, those big aquamarine eyes. Her secret smile that’s just for me when I kiss my fingers on the field and send them out into the air for her to see.

She jump-tackles me and I sweep her up to my chest. Rightness settles in my bones. Tulip.

She buries her face in my neck. “Not bad for a third-string quarterback.”

“Mmmm. Good thing I worked my way up to first string. Only took me until my senior year.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Looks like you didn’t peak in high school after all. I wonder what’s next?”

I kiss her long and hard, oblivious to the camera flashes and media surrounding us. Except for those away games she couldn’t make, we haven’t spent a night apart since I showed up at Blue’s Bar. She moved from her dorm into my place and we never looked back. She’s the girl I wanted the moment she walked in the doors at Camden, and I know we’re young on the outside, but inside, the heart knows when it sees its forever.

“Anything we want.” I press my lips to her palm, my gaze lingering on the two-carat engagement ring on her finger. I asked her to marry me the Christmas after we reunited. Well, technically, I asked Tyler first and he said, “Balls yes. Just do it already. You’re already living in sin, and I really wish you’d put up some concrete walls around your bedroom. I’m too young to hear that shit.”

The kid in question comes barreling out of nowhere and clings to my leg. “That was the best game I have ever seen! I want to be a tattoo artist and a footballer,” he exclaims.

“We’ll need to practice more,” I tell him as I ruffle his hair. He moved in with us permanently after we got engaged, and even though Ava worried about his transition from Camden to a local private school near the university, he adapted fast.

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.