Epilogue

"I missed you so much," Jace coos in the voice he only uses on Penelope. He holds up the turtle until their noses touch. "Yes, I did, pretty girl."

I giggle, glancing at them before refocusing on the road. "One day, I'm going to record you with her and send it to all your teammates."

Jace sits up now, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders. "You wouldn't dare."

"I might just post it on your Instagram."

He sighs, setting Penelope on his lap as I pull into the driveway of our new house.

Jace has just finished his second season as a Red Raider, so even though his grandpa and I moved up to Lubbock six months ago, it's only recently that we've been able to look for a place to live. When I first moved up here, I found a job in the kitchen of a nearby cafe and a vacant room close to campus with a month-to-month lease, so it worked out perfectly.

Marty—who demands I call him Grandpa—is at the assisted living facility nearby, and he's thriving. He loves the people and the activities, but more importantly, he loves being close to Jace again. At least one of us will visit him every day, but most of the time, we go together.

Jace gets out of my car once I've killed the engine, and bypasses the boxes in the trunk we still have to unload. He goes straight into the house, his second favorite girl still in his arms.

"What about the boxes?" I call out.

"I'll grab them later," he says, just inside the front door. "I want to get Penn in her tank." Swear, he might love that turtle more than I do.

Our new rental is a two-bed, two-bath home in a quiet neighborhood. We'd considered moving into an apartment closer to campus, but we figured out quickly that it wasn't our scene. We'd gotten so used to the quiet after living in Rowville that we both needed our space.

According to Jace, the money his grandpa put aside for him wasn't just enough to help him with the assisted living situation, but enough to take care of Jace. At least for a while. It gave him the ability to focus solely on his degree and basketball without having to work through it, and it gave us breathing room when it came to looking for somewhere to live.

Jace puts Penelope in her tank, while I make my way into the kitchen, but freeze the moment I step inside. There are boxes on the counter—boxes that weren't there before. "Jace!" I squeal. "What is this?"

Coming up from behind, he wraps his arms around my waist, dropping a kiss on my shoulder. "It's a present."

I gasp, then practically tear into the boxes of my brand new HexClad cookware. "You got these for me?"

He leans back on the counter now, watching as I bounce on my toes, my excitement palpable. "Listen," he says, taking my hand and pulling me between his legs. He moves my hair behind my ear, his hand settling on my jaw and tilting my eyes up to his. "I know things have been crazy with basketball and the move and now finals coming up, and I know you say that it's not a big deal, but it is. You got into culinary school, Harlow."He says culinary school with as much pride as one would say Division I champions. "And in case I haven't told you lately, I'm so fucking proud of you."

"It's not that hard."

"Bullshit," he spits. "You've had no formal training, and until six months ago, you've never worked in a professional kitchen before. Deep frying frozen shit at the rink doesn't count. You learned everything on your own, with no guidance besides videos, and then you went on and built your own social following, all from a busted ass kitchen while taking care of my grandpa. That is hard. And that is a big deal. And promise me, as soon as finals are done, you'll let me celebrate you."

I pout up at him, my heart warming with his words. "It is kind of baller behavior."

He chuckles, grabs my ass. "Baddie behavior."

"Deal," I tell him, picking up a pan and holding it to my chest. "I wish I could use them tonight."

"Why can't you?"

My excitement turns to panic. "Your awards night…"

Brow scrunched, he murmurs, "That's tonight?"

"Jace!"

"I'm kidding." He's not. The boy's favored to get MVP in only his second season, and he couldn't care less. It's so typical of Jace, but it's also one of the many, many reasons I love him.

I kiss the pan, set it carefully on the stovetop. "I'll be with you soon, my precious," I whisper lovingly, and Jace chuckles at that. "I love them." Pushing up to my toes, I press my mouth to his. "And I love you. So much." I fall back on my heels, then tug on his shirt, dragging him out of the kitchen. "We should get in the shower."

"We?"

"Uh-huh."

Jace sits on the edge of the bed, dressed in a crisp white shirt and deep emerald-green suit pants, the matching jacket laid out on the mattress beside him. There's product in his hair, though I'm sure it'll be useless by the time we get to the event. He looks incredible. But I'd feel the same if he was in black basketball shorts and a wrinkled shirt.

His eyes meet mine in the reflection of my dresser mirror as he watches me apply the finishing touches to my face. I'd opted for a simple black dress that touches the floor but has a slit up one side. We rarely get dressed up like this, and we don't usually enjoy these types of events, preferring instead to stay home and test out recipes or play video games, but tonight is an exception.

"You're wearing that perfume," Jace states.

I crack a smile. "Sure am."

"We're coming straight home after, right?"

"We'll see."

I pull out my ruby-red lipstick and apply it carefully. Jace watches my every move, as if in a trance, and I don't know what it is about me sitting here doing my skincare routine or putting on makeup that always seems to hold him captive.

Through the mirror's reflection, I watch as Jace spins the ring on his finger, the ruby-red stone a contrast to the deep green fabric of his pants. He still wears the ring I gave him, just like I wear his. The difference is that far more people know what his symbolizes.

Jace's first game as a Red Raider came earlier than we expected, only four games into his first season. When he called to tell me, I lost my mind. So did everyone else in Rowville. Not a single person wanted to miss out on the hometown hero's dreams come true, and they all rushed to get tickets. Lana booked four buses to take us all to Lubbock. Somehow, news got around, and within twenty-four hours, a crew from ESPN set themselves up at the rink. Honestly, I was afraid they would dig deep into Jace's past and ask questions about the tragic loss of his parents, and they did. But the town of Rowville protected him in ways I'd never seen before. People who had watched Jace grow from a child to a man spoke of what it was like to witness a miracle in the making. They spoke of how proud they were of him, of how ecstatic they were to see him achieve the impossible, but they never—not once—allowed Jace's story of tragedy to overshadow his ability to overcome it all and become the man he is today.

The people of Rowville showed up for Jace's debut game, taking up an entire section of the arena. We were the loudest there, the most passionate fans you'll ever meet. It was the first time in almost a decade that Marty had watched his grandson play, and the pride in his eyes, the pure joy in his smile, was everything. And this was all before the players had even walked out.

Swear, you couldn't even hear the announcer speak when Jace was called up, and I could barely see through my tears. But I saw enough. I saw on the big screen how the cameras panned from us in the crowd to Jace on the floor, over and over, until it stayed on Jace sitting on the bench minutes before the first whistle.

Wearing my brother's number, on a team that Harley once committed to, Jace removed the ring on his finger and tied it to his shoelaces. And then he looked into the camera, like he was looking directly at me, as if to say, "Harley's here. And he's about to live out his dream."

My dad felt it too, because he held me to him, his broad chest hiding my cries.

Ever since, Jace has continued to carry Harley's memory, his legacy, whenever he steps out on the court.

"Is that your dad?" Jace asks when we enter the hotel where the awards night is taking place. "And Jonah?"

I smile. "You think I was going to let you fly under the radar for this?"

It's not just Dad and Jonah here, though. I invited everyone who loves Jace almost as much as I do. Dad and his girlfriend, Jen—Levi's mom. They started speaking more often after I spent a few days at Levi's house back when I was going through it. I guess one thing led to another, and they soon started dating. When I left Rowville to move here, Dad left too, back to Dallas and in with Jen. I've never seen my dad happier. Levi's here too, and because of our parents' relationship, we've been able to spend more time together. Of course, Levi and Jace became easy friends, connecting through basketball and Legend of Zelda. Levi had always been like a brother to me, and if what my dad told me in secret a few weeks ago is anything to go by, soon we'll be stepsiblings. I can't wait. Literally. I might explode if he doesn't ask Jen soon.

I pull back while Jace greets them, then Jonah and Sammy—who are apparently on today, a contrast to last week, when they were off. It's been two years of this, and I think even they don't know what they truly want. Jace greets Jeannie next, then of course, Jonah's parents, Connie and Eric, and his two younger sisters. Then Lana and even Reyna. Yes, Reyna's still stunning, but no, I'm no longer jealous of her, because in Jace's eyes, I am—in his words, "so incredibly beautiful, and that beauty is intimidating."

Lastly, Jace beams at his grandpa, looking ever so dapper in a crisp black tux. "You look so good!"

"Jen helped me get ready," he tells us, turning slowly to show off his fit. "Seems a lot for a basketball game, though."

We all sit together around a large round table as the night continues, talking while eating. Well, everyone else talks while Jace sits back, listening. Jace could happily live the rest of his life without the fanfare that surrounds him, as long as he had basketball, video games, and the people right here at this table.

I settle my hand on his leg and lean into him as his arm goes around my shoulders. "I can't believe you got them all here," he murmurs.

"As if they'd miss this for the world."

Soon enough, the awards start, one after the other, and it's no surprise when Jace wins the final one—Most Valuable Player.

I'd asked him a few days ago if he'd prepared a speech, and his response was to shrug, then stare blankly into space for ten minutes.

I haven't asked him about it since.

Jace approaches the stage, and our table remains classy for his sake, keeping our claps and cheers to a minimum. Later, when it's just us, we'll pile on him and scream our elation right in his face.

Jace is on the stage now, the trophy on the podium in front of him, and he leans down into the microphone and… groans.

This garners a few chuckles from his coaching staff and fellow players, because it's well known that Jace isn't one for words. In fact, the first post-game interview Jace ever did, he was asked, "What do you think makes you a great player?"

And Jace responded, glaring at the interviewer, "Huh?"

Now, he looks out at the rest of us watching, waiting for him to speak. "I hope you all realize that this is what two years of mandatory media training looks like on me."

The room fills with bursts of laughter, and one of his teammates yells, "You got this, Rivera!"

Jace shakes his head. "I very much do not got this, but thanks for your confidence," he murmurs, chuckling lightly. "It's kind of funny, though, how they make you do that media training, and I don't know why I hadn't expected it…" His shoulders relax as he stands slightly taller, easing into whatever he plans to say next. "As an athlete, I've trained my body to push the boundaries of peak physical condition. I've trained my mind to endure beyond what my body can't. But what I didn't train for is this… to speak to a room full of people who actually want to hear what I have to say." Jace shifts from one foot to the other as he clears his throat, then continues. "One of the first things they do in media training is give you a list of questions that you should be able to answer at the drop of a hat. Easy for some, but for me…" He breaks off, laughing once. "Anyway, I remember getting the questions and flying through them, not really caring about the answers. I figured I could just make shit up as I go."

Another bout of laughter, and then it's quiet again.

"But there was one question on the list that I just… did not know how to answer," he says, looking out at his audience until his eyes meet mine. "The question was: What defining decision in your life got you to where you are today?" He pauses there, his gaze shifting, his mind thinking. "I know the predictable answer would be something to do with the sport we all love, like the first time I decided to pick up a basketball. Or the time I decided to ask my parents to sign me up for a travel team. I bet half the guys here have that same answer memorized."

The room fills with quiet chuckles, because it's true, and they all know it.

"But for me…" he says, "it wasn't basketball or playing on a team. For me, it was my girlfriend's eighteenth birthday."

I gasp while others snicker, and it takes a moment for me to realize what's funny.

It takes Jace even longer. "No, wait," he chuckles. "We were both eighteen. I wasn't being a creep, I promise." He shakes his head, his smile fading as he adds, "You see, Harlow had moved into town the summer before our senior year, and she just so happened to move right next door. We ended up at the same school, and even at the same job, and now that I think about it… she may have been stalking me."

Laughter erupts, mine included, and I still love Jace and his jokes. Now more than ever.

"We used to work at this roller skating rink, and one night—before we were even together—we were the last ones there after closing, and she confided it was her birthday and that she didn't have anyone around to celebrate with. The rink holds kids' birthday parties, so I stole a cake mix from the pantry—sorry, Lana—and then I practically invited myself into her home so I could at least make her a birthday cake… It did not end well."

I smile, the single memory from years ago flooding my heart, my mind, all while trying to skip forward to exactly where this speech is going right now.

"It ended up being nothing more than a soggy mess in a cake tin." He pauses, waiting for the quiet giggles to end. "But Harlow—my sweet, empathetic, beautiful Harlow…" Coos fill the air, and beside me, Dad reaches out, stroking my shoulder. "She didn't want me to feel bad about it, assuring me it would be fine to eat, and so she took out a spoon and scooped up what can only be described as ooze. Then she brought it to her open mouth, and I panicked, tried to stop her, but all I did was knock her hand and the ooze ended up all over her face." He chuckles when everyone else does, then waits a beat before continuing. "I laughed, obviously, but there was no way she was letting me get away with it. She took another scoop and used the spoon as a catapult… got me right here—" He points to the spot between his eyebrows. "I was livid. I glared at her, shoveled the cake mix with my bare hand, then said, ‘You better run' and so she did. And I chased her until I had her in my arms, and once she was there… I didn't want to let her go." He clears the knot in his throat, his voice lowering, along with his eyes. "That was the moment I realized I was falling in love with her."

I choke on a sob, grasping the number 5 pendant hanging from my necklace.

"Everythingchanged after that day. Everything. Harlow became my everlasting hope. My light at the end of the darkness." Jace lifts his gaze now, finding mine in the distance, and he wipes at the vulnerability building in his eyes. "Many of you know that I'm able to be here because Harlow stayed back to take care of my grandpa. She not only gave up so much of her life to support me and my family, but she got the whole town involved too. All because she believes in me and my dreams, even when I fail to do so myself." He sniffs back his emotions, and I do the same, the tears I've held on to now falling fast and free. "I guess my point is that I know the answer to that question now—What defining decision in my life got me to where I am today? That one defining decision, and the best decision I ever made, was being in that kitchen, chasing Harlow."

The End