“What is it?” Brian asks.
“Bandits press release,” I choke out.
He grabs my hand as I read, and for a second, I barely process the words. Then I’m laughing.
“What?” Brian asks. “Are you having a breakdown?”
I shove the phone in his hand. “No. Read it.”
His eyes flit over the screen, then drift back up to mine for a second before he continues, reading aloud,“When asked by reporters why the Bandits would part with their GM right after winning the Super Bowl, owner Mike Brady responded, ‘Our organization does not tolerate homophobia, or anything less than total acceptance and supportiveness. Which is why our new GM embodies that vision.’”Brian looks at me. “Wendell as the GM? Did you know?”
“Not a clue. But looking back, I think Wendell dropped a hint toward it. It fits, though. Right?”
“Yeah. He’s always had a mind for business, and no one knows the world of football like him.”
“Did you see what they said about us?” I ask.
Again, his eyes flit back to the screen.“And when asked about rumors of trades involving Ryan Hardison and Brian Ackley following their kiss after the Super Bowl and subsequent announcement of their status as a couple, Mike Brady laughed off the notion. ‘Why would we want to get rid of two excellent, hardworking players, both of whom helped us reach and win the Super Bowl this year? Our organization is lucky to have them.’”He breathes out a sigh of relief. “It’s done.”
“You know what this means? I can kiss you anywhere I want, anytime I want. No more hiding. We’re free to be us, to be in love, and to share our joy with the world.”
His lips curve up. “As usual, your vibrance brightens my world. I may not be a shout-it-from-the-rooftops person, but I can’t wait to love you loudly.” He glances back at the house. “And to build this beautiful future with you.”
We collide in a passionate kiss, his lips moving over mine possessively, the cold of the day melting away as his body surrounds mine.
I don’t know why I was ever afraid of my feelings or afraid to admit them to him. There’s no better way I could spend my life than by loving and being loved by Brian Ackley.
EPILOGUE
13 MONTHS LATER
Brian
“I’m sorry,Greta. I know moving always makes you mad, but I promise I won’t bother you again for another few months.”
She always gives me the cold shoulder when I move her. But I can’t stand the thought of leaving any of my babies behind for half the year.
We intend to primarily spend the offseason in Ida since we bought the house here last year, and during the season, we’re happy in our penthouse in the city, which means twice a year, I put the kids through the big move. But they’re resilient, and once they get used to the quiet here, they thrive—at least if last year was any indication.
Though we had some work done throughout the house and lots of landscaping work done outside, the conservatory was in perfect condition, so I was able to move the plants in, and I spent a lot of time in here over the spring and summer, writing and relaxing—when I wasn’t out in the gardens.
My gaze drifts to the French doors that lead out to the patio. It’s only March, and too early in upstate New York to do much ofanything outside—especially gardening—but I’m excited to get back out there again.
We cut things back, landscaped, and added more to the garden last year, including rows of fruit trees and a vegetable garden. By we, I mostly mean me, though Ryan went with me to the local plant nursery many times and let me browse and ask a thousand questions, all with a smile on his face.
Every day I feel luckier to have found someone who understands me on such a deep level and loves me for all of it.
I finish settling Greta in, then move on to the newer additions, a line of smaller crassula variants. “Tommy, Luna, Regina… you all look perfect. A few of you need some water, though.” I add a little to each of their pots from the small brass watering can Ryan got me for my birthday.
I check and water the rest of the plants, turning their pots or switching their placements around as I go.
When everything is how I want it, I turn around and almost jump when I see Ryan standing in the doorway.
“How long have you been standing there?”
His soft smile grows into a fuller, brighter one. “A few minutes.”
“You could’ve said something.”
