Epilogue

"You shouldn't be disappointed. You had an incredible season, your best yet, if you ask me."

Matt looks at me and takes a long pull on his beer. "We just missed making the playoffs. One point. I could've kicked our way in, for fuck's sake."

"Yes, but the Crusaders couldn't get the ball back. It's not your fault. You did everything right."

"Still," he grumbles. "I'm pissed off. It's not the way I wanted to end the season."

Jase and Lucas walk over to where we stand in the crowded bar waiting for Sin City to start their second set of the night.

Matt glowers at Jase. "When's Bryce getting here to run our noses in the loss?"

Bryce Maxwell, as in the star quarterback for Oakland.

"He had a hell of a game tonight," I say, taking a sip of my beer.

"Yeah. He's worth every penny they pay him," Lucas grins and gives Jase a little nudge. "Don't be salty. We beat them last season to make the playoffs."

"True," Jase mutters. "Still should've been us."

I smirk. "Don't let Gabe hear you say that."

On cue, Gabe Kelly and his boyfriend Vince Castro walk over to our group. Vince is a retired superstar who was sportscasting the game for ESPN, and I'm sure they're both here to drown their sorrows along with the rest of us.

"Wipe that look off your face, Maxwell," Gabe says in a threatening voice. "Oakland is a great team, and they beat us by one. One. Be proud of that. And lucky for you, Bryce isn't a gloater."

Jase lets out a deep sigh. "Yeah, yeah." His eyes skate over to me. "Maybe if we hadn't dealt with a change of ownership in the beginning of a critical season."

But when he waggles his eyebrows, I know we're cool.

Besides, they're in much better hands now. Joint owners who are excited to run the team, who have ideas about future strategy, who have no emotional ties to any of the players. I feel really good about what's on the horizon for the Crusaders.

And for me and Matt.

Brixton Scott, the lead singer for XYZ band, walks up to Jase and claps him on the back. "Good effort today, bro. Too bad you had a load in your pants and couldn't get out of your own way."

"Fuck off," Jase says. "Or I'll shove that mic so far up your ass, it'll sit inside your mouth."

"Maybe I'd like that." Brixton chuckles and takes a swig of his beer.

"You're fucking sick, man." Jase rolls his eyes.

"Where's B-Man? He ever gonna show up tonight?" Brixton asks.

"I'm sure he's celebrating with the team," Jase says in a glum voice. He hunches over the table, and Matt's eyebrows knit together as he gets pulled deeper into Jase's black cloud.

"You guys are acting like someone died. It's the end of a season, not a funeral." I rub my hand up and down Matt's back. His muscles tense under my fingertips, and the urge to pull him close and tear off his shirt grabs hold.

"Think about Travers," Gabe says. "He'll never have another one of these pity parties since he was kicked out of the league and is facing charges of assault. Life could always be worse."

Brixton nods toward the spot where his bandmate Lane Maxwell is standing with Anna. Since she's back in California, she decided to make the trip up to Oakland for the game today. It may be weird, but we make a good threesome.

Not in that way, though.

I'm not a good sharer.

I nudge Matt out of his funk and point my beer bottle in their direction and get the first hint of a smile from him. "Lane's a good guy, yeah?" he asks Jase.

"The best," Jase says. He throws a look at Brixton. "I don't know how the fuck he got stuck playing with this asshole though."

"Aww, you love me, J. Admit it." Brixton flashes a shit-eating grin.

"Yeah, I love you just like I love jock itch," Jase mumbles, taking another long gulp of his beer.

Just then, a loud cheer goes up through the crowd.

"Here comes the king," Brixton says as Bryce Maxwell walks over to us. He towers over most of the people around us. "All fucking hail."

Bryce winks at him and gives him a bro hug.

I figure Jase will have a few snarky words for him, but he actually smiles. A real one. A proud one. And he captures Bryce in a bear hug.

"You did good today," Jase says in a gruff voice.

"Thanks, you, too."

"But remember, we still beat you to the playoffs last season."

"How could I forget?" Bryce claps a hand on Jase's shoulder. "It's what drove us to steamroll you today."

"Uh, I'd hardly call it a steamrolling." Sam Hartley, one of the tight ends for Oakland, walks up next to Bryce. He flashes a smile at the rest of us, his dark eyes glowing as he twists the cap off a bottle of water. I catch Brixton take a long look at Sam and then sweep a hand through his dark rock star hair and tug his gaze away.

Interesting.

Brixton's got quite a reputation for being a bad boy rocker, so his thinly veiled interest in Sam is a little curious. Besides being a star athlete for one of the best teams in the NFL, Sam's got that whole good boy vibe going on—super close with his family, not much into partying, and does a lot of charity work. He's got this quiet kind of calm about him.

The complete opposite of Brixton Scott, who is notably chaotic in all aspects of his life.

Then again, Sam is gorgeous in a Liam Hemsworth kind of way, so I get the draw.

He's also famous right now because in addition to helping beat the Crusaders for a spot in the playoffs, he's just announced to the world that he's gay.

"Whatever, we won." Bryce raises his beer bottle, and we all clink them together. Sam holds up his water and grins.

Brixton's gaze catches on Sam's smile, and I swear it looks like his brain needs a jump start when I say his name and yank him out of whatever twisted thought is probably zipping through his mind right now.

He drains the last of his beer and slams the bottle on the table. Then, he nods his head toward the stage.

I pat Matt's arm. "I'll be back. Try not to listen to Jase while I'm gone, okay? I've got to figure out a way to put a smile on your face again."

"If you're thinking a quick BJ…" He turns toward me with a wicked smirk on his face.

"Hmmm…hold that thought." I kiss his cheek and follow Brixton while Jase continues to lament.

My pulse jumps into my throat, hammering hard.

"Gotta say, you don't seem like the type for this," Brixton says, giving me a long look.

I bring a hand to the back of my neck and rub the knot, panic twisting in my gut. "Thanks for giving me the chance."

"Anything for a friend of Lucas and Jase."

I bite back a smile when I see Brixton sneak another look over at Sam.

"He's hot, huh?"

Brixton glares at me. "Who, pretty boy back there? Jesus, the guy wears a fucking halo. Probably drinks milk with his Brussels sprouts and goes to bed at seven o'clock every night," he scoffs. "Let's go."

We dip out of the main area of the bar and toward the stage. Lane gives Anna a puppy dog smile before darting toward Brixton. I look at her and her cheeks flush pink. "Something happening here?"

She grins at me, her blue eyes sparkling. "There may have been another reason why I came up to Oakland today."

"He better know what he's getting."

"Well, he hasn't gotten anything yet." She giggles. "But I don't know, maybe later…"

I give her a quick hug. "I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

Then, I run up the stairs on the side of the stage where the rest of the band is warming up. Anna furrows her brows at me and holds up her hands as if to say, "What the hell are you doing up there?"

I shrug and wink at her.

"Uh, guys, we're gonna get started in a second, but before we blow you away with some new music, my friend Zak here has something to say," Brixton bellows into the microphone.

I can't stop the smile from tugging at my lips.

It widens when Brixton hands me the mic.

I almost drop it because my palms are so damn sweaty.

Strobe lights make it almost impossible to see, the throbbing pulse in my throat preventing me from sucking in oxygen. I raise the mic, squinting until I find Matt's face in the crowd. He stares at me like I have a dick sticking out of my forehead, and I get it.

I'm not the guy who likes to be on stage or anywhere as the center of attention.

And yet, here I am.

I clear my throat. "If anyone asked me when I walked in here tonight if I'd be remotely close to this stage, then I'd have said hell no. I like to fly under the radar and stay out of the spotlight. But something in the air led me up here to ask a question. Matt Harrison, can you come up to the stage?"

I can see the guys exchange looks and shrugs, but Matt ignores them and walks toward me. The overhead lights cast a glow on his hair, his blue eyes glittering as they latch onto mine. He stops right at the front of the stage and then jumps up so he's standing right next to me.

"I've been in love with you for eight years. I've also hated you for a good part of that." I shrug. "But sometimes, the line between love and hate can be really gray."

He laughs. "God, I fucking love you."

"Nothing about our story was easy, but this decision is the easiest one I've ever made. I want you, I need you, and I can't live without you." I drop to one knee and take his hand.

"Uh, that's a little over the top, don't you think?" He waggles his eyebrows at me as he tosses my own words right back.

"Not at all. And I'm saying it in front of all these people, so they know how crazy about you I am. So, Matt Harrison, will you marry me?"

"Oh, so now you're ready?" he murmurs so only I can hear him.

"Nope. I've been ready for a long time.

"Me, too. And yes, I'll marry you."

The crowd erupts into deafening cheers.

Matt pulls me up and our lips crush together like they've been starved for contact, even though we had a quickie at the hotel right before coming here.

"That was pretty damn epic," Matt whispers against my lips.

"Go big or go home, right?"

He rewards me with a smile that can rival the sun.

"Fucking A right."