Page 299 of Cross Check

“No, because I wasn’t allowed to love you out loud like I wanted to.”

I kiss her forehead and tug her on the blanket. To a passerby, we look like any other couple in love with our hats and sunglasses and the way she positions herself my legs, but I know the truth: this is the first real day of forever for us, and it deserves to be celebrated.

“I can’t believe this is where we are now,” Lia says. “We can just… be.”

“I promise I won’t suffocate you with PDA.” I hand her the sandwich and unwrap my own. I can thank Liam for keeping them warm before dropping them off, and I’m glad to know he really has a heart. “But today calls for it.”

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I do. Because I hoped for it and wished for it, and we never gave up. It had to work out. There was no version of me that exists without you.”

“I’m surprised you’re not wearing one of my jerseys,” she teases, sitting up so she can take a bite of her food. “You were much bolder when we had to hide our relationship.”

“Already planned to put one on when we got home, baby.” I wipe away a drop of marinara sauce from her cheek. I can’t believe I get to do that for the rest of my life. “And there’s one in my car if the mood strikes.”

Lia tips her head back and laughs. Her shoulders shake, and when she brings her chin level to meet my gaze, I see the tears glistening in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “And I’m so glad you fought for us.”

“I had to. Imagine if I walked around with a badger tattooed on my arm and it didn’t even have a purpose.”

We dive into our food, and the sun starts to set. After we finish, we eat the slice of key lime pie. I wasn’t the biggest fan before, but today it’s goddamn perfect.

NINETY-FIVE

AMELIA

MID-APRIL, THIS SEASON

I wake up the morning of the last game of the regular season like I always do: excited and ready to head to work.

And with a warm body behind me.

Arms drape across my waist and hold me tight. Large hands rest on my stomach and my thigh, and a kiss is pressed to my shoulder.

“Morning,” Grant mumbles, his voice sleep-drenched. “How did you sleep?”

“Like I was dead to the world.” I smile and roll over. His eyes are still closed, and I touch his cheek. “What time is it?”

“Who cares? We could use the rest.”

It has been a long week and a half.

After the CBA bylaw was agreed upon, I had another meeting with the Sea Crabs’ management. Darcy was strong in her conviction that I wouldn’t be reprimanded for any relationship I chose to have. At our press conference, she let the media know that their access to her coaching staff and our personal lives would be minimal at best going forward.

Hearing her call the commissioner and light a fire under his ass for his poor handling of the whole situation made the purgatory I had to suffer through worth it.

Almost.

I wasn’t sure we’d ever make it to the other side.

Now that we have, I couldn’t be happier.

Things have quieted down. The blog posts analyzing every minute of our relationship timeline have been replaced with speculations on possible free agent moves. The talk show hosts who were arguing about how I abused my position of power to get a man are back to glorifying the NBA coach dating someone thirty years younger than him.

Life has gone on.

There will always be people who have something to say about our situation, but I’ve decided to not let it bother me. I show up to work. I do my job—and do it goddamn well—then I go home to a man who loves me.