Epilogue

Eight Months Later

B eing on this field in New Zealand does not feel real.

Underfoot, the grass is manicured and soft. The afternoon sun shines down on us and the crowd—the crowd— is absolutely unreal. Looking around, I cannot believe my eyes.

I cannot believe I am here.

It's the last round of knock-outs, and we're up two with ten minutes left. If we win this, we make it to the quarter finals.

Another win with the National Team does not feel like real life. Being on this field as a starter does not feel real. Not after the injury. Not after the painful months of recovering from two surgeries and fighting tooth and nail at every team camp. But I did it. I did it. No one can take that away.

The crowd is filled with red, white, and blue. Everywhere I look, there are young girls with their faces painted and their parents holding their hands. And at the fence, I find my family.

Kian. Sophia. The girls. My mom.

Isaiah. In my jersey, like he always is.

We move up the field, maintaining possession in the opposing half. I look around at these girls. They aren't the Royals, but they're pretty fucking amazing. And together, we dominate. We've won every game so far by at least two and given up a total of one goal. Above, the stadium lights are bright and welcoming.

I belong here.

I love it here.

Every pass we get off is smooth, landing on the targets foot with a smooth touch. There are smiles on our faces—small but there. We earned this. Holding onto possession, we move the ball up and down the field, side to side, tiring out the opponents as best we can.

We do not let up until the ref blows the whistle in three long successions. And it sinks in. We're through the first round of knockouts. The cheers are deafening, and the excitement emitting off the girls as we meet in a big huddle is an absolute drug.

"We did it!" Lucy, the right-side defender, says, cupping my face in her hands with a big smile.

"We fucking did it!" I pull her in for a hug, latching onto her like a koala. The other two defenders find us and join the mini-huddle. It's different than Maazina and Viv and Sylvia, but it's another home I get to call mine.

I can't stop fucking smiling.

Not through the post-game talk, not while getting my stuff. My smile never wanes. I'm itching to go find Isaiah. And as soon as we're set free, I set off, as do many of the others, in search of their families and loved ones.

Quickly, I find him waiting for me. My smile is so wide, my cheeks hurt. Seeing him, I get all my energy back.

"Hi," I say breathlessly as I approach, dropping my bag.

He leans over the short barrier, cupping my cheeks and pulling me into a searing kiss. My entire body flushes as I go boneless with his lips against mine. When I regain use of my brain, I wind my arms around his neck, feeling the soft, short curls on the back of his neck.

"Hi," he murmurs, out of breath. My hand finds the chain around his neck, and I tug him back to me. Our lips smile against each other, and it settles warmly in my heart. I love those moments where everything is good and right for no particular reason at all, except that we're together.

Pulling back, Isaiah drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. With ease, he tightens his arms and lifts me up and over the barrier. I don't let go. Instead, my legs are wound tightly around his waist, and I bury my face in his neck.

"You were fucking amazing, Ro." Isaiah whispers the words against my neck, placing kisses over my skin until he pulls my head back. His left-hand cups my face gently. Lovingly.

It's so annoying how much I miss his touch when I don't have it. I sink into it without even thinking, a dopey smile on my face.

"Thanks for being here."

Isaiah gives me a look. "There is nowhere on Earth I'd rather be."

"Just let me say thank you, you asshole."

Isaiah laughs, squeezing my butt. "Yes, ma'am."

Eventually, my feet touch the ground again, and we find the rest of my family.

Including my dad. We've been slowly working toward a relationship again—a functioning one this time. Him not being my coach made a drastic difference, which, honestly, I hadn't expected it to. But without it…without him watching my every move and without worrying if he was judging or criticizing, the moment I touched that field again, I came alive. The game felt like mine again. And slowly, with casual visits at Sophia's or Mom's, Dad just felt like Dad again. Not a coach. And he apologized. Sincerely.

And while everything isn't perfect, there are still times when my insecurities kick in and times when I wonder if we'll ever have that relationship of my younger years again, but it's there. For that, I'm thankful.

Every member of my family is draped in a version of my jersey. Kian is the only one in the Philadelphia Royals' colors, and I appreciate that more than he'll know. They're my team. I'm grateful to be here, more than I ever thought possible, but that place is home. Everyone else is decked out in red, white, and blue with my name and my number on them.

Zaza is the first to jump me with a hug, and we rock back and forth. Her curls are wild from the wind, her hazel eyes bright but tired. "Good game, Ro!"

I grin, pressing kisses against her cheek, even though she claims she hates that now. "Thank you, baby."

Her hand holds onto mine as I approach my mom, Sophia, and Kian, who is holding a sleeping Joey in his arms. His other arm is wrapped around his wife, palm splayed protectively over her growing belly.

"Thanks for being here." My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

"We literally wouldn't miss it," Kian says, pulling me in with his free arm in a suffocating hold. He nuzzles me as any annoying older brother would. "Good job out there, kid."

I pat his stomach. "Thank you." Sophia practically jumps on me, her curls going wild and her brown skin sun kissed.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Don't use your mom voice on me. You know it makes me emotional," I say, flicking her nose when there's space between us. Sophia, also dressed in my jersey like the rest of them, puts her hands on her hips.

"I'm the pregnant one."

"Okay?" I raise my brows. "I'm the one playing in the World Cup?"

Sophia narrows her eyes playfully. "Fine. You win this round. But only because it's your first time."

"Ha! I always do."

Kian and Isaiah share a look before my Isaiah steps forward to wrap his arm around my waist. "Alright there, hot shot."

I turn, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Looking past them, the fans have all but left the stadium. The only people remaining are other players and families and those in charge of managing the field. Above, the stadium lights are on, even though the sky is barely turning pink with the beginning of sunset.

"We're gonna head back and get ready for dinner," Sophia muses, taking a still-sleeping Joey from her husband. "You coming, or you going to meet us there?"

I glance at Isaiah and at the field. "We'll meet you there. I need a minute."

Sophia smiles knowingly. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to my cheek. "This is everything you wanted. Everything you worked for. You did it."

Looking around at the field I just stepped off of, I let it sink in. At the fact that we're making it to quarterfinals. The fact that this jersey is on my back. "Yeah." Wrapping my arms around her as best I can, I hold onto my sister for a few seconds. "Yeah, I did." She pats my head with a grin before exiting with the rest of them.

I sit down on the bleachers, Isaiah joining me shortly. "You okay?"

Before resting my head on his shoulder, I nod. "Yeah. It just doesn't feel real." I laugh lightly. This is unbelievable. Even now, after multiple games, I can't get it through my head.

"You belong out there." Isaiah reaches over and grabs my left hand, his thumb running over the tattoo on my ring finger that holds his initials. Bringing it up to his mouth, he runs a light kiss over my palm. "You look so happy every time you touch that field. It never gets old."

Turning my eyes up at him, I squeeze his hand. Sophia was right. This is everything I wanted.

The field. More so, Isaiah.

And having both? Well, it's unbelievable.

"Come with me?"

He furrows his brows. "Where?"

Standing, I pull him up, and his hands land on my hips. "To the field." With that, I take his hand and lead him down. We won't stay long, but I watch one of the older forwards chase her little girl around. She's got on pink pre-wrap and a ponytail just like her mom. Isaiah follows me, never letting go of my hand until we're on the grass.

I thread my fingers through his other hand, capturing them both. My heart swells when I see my name on his knuckles, like it does every time I see them. "This wouldn't be the same without you," I say quietly, but he hears me. Isaiah always hears me.

"Ro," he starts, but I shake my head. His brown eyes are as gentle as the morning sun, as they so often are when they look at me.

"You have been as integral to my life as this sport has been. I've known you for pretty much just as long. I grew up on the field and with you, off of it. This sport is everything to me. You know that; everyone knows that. I spent my life dreaming of being here."

Isaiah smiles. "I remember. I remember seeing you scribble it all over your notebook, all the times we would talk about it late at night, like it was a dream you didn't want the light to touch."

I let my head fall forward onto his chest for a moment. Remembering all those times. All the late-night dreams we both shared. Isaiah's hand wraps around my back, pulling me to him, and I look up. "Yeah." I smile. "But I also dreamed of a life with you just as much. But I knew better than to scribble it in notebooks where you could see."

A warmth settles in his eyes. A yearning. I know it's love. That's how I look at him all the time. There is no questioning what is between us. I don't have any fears regarding the two of us. I know that deep down, this is for life. Isaiah and me are for life. The ups, the downs, and everything in between.

The two of us are forever.

"Every time I dreamed of this jersey, of being on a field like this, you were in the stands. When I thought of your future, I was there cheering you on. All of my biggest dreams involve you, Isaiah. And all my small ones. Celebrating this, enjoying this, would not be the same without you. You are my best friend in the entire world, Isaiah, and I sincerely do not know what I would do without you."

"You tryna make me cry, Aurora?"

I snort, my hand wrapping around the back of his neck, my thumb roaming up and down. "No. Though I should be. I still haven't gotten you back for all the tears."

Isaiah pinches my butt, making me squeal. He bends down, nuzzling into my neck, and I hold him there.

I continue, "No, I'm trying to make you understand that as thrilling as this dream is, it really does not compare to having you here with me. You were in every dream I ever had. You are in every dream I have now. You're my strong man in a storm. You are who I count on when I can't count on myself. You are who I look for in every room, in every stadium, everywhere I go."

Taking a deep breath, I force him to look at me. His eyes are watering, but no tears fall. Not yet, at least. I rub my thumb over his cheekbone, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm not sure I'm even making any sense anymore, but I'm saying, standing here, I recognize I'm a lucky girl. That I'm standing in a place where so many girls dream of, and I worked hard for it. But getting to stand here with you, being in love with you right now, in this moment, on this field, is my favorite part of it all. As much as I wanted this dream, I wanted you all the same. There is no feeling in the world that could compare to being in love with you, Isaiah. Not a single one."

Isaiah's hands cup my cheeks firmly, and he kisses me like I created the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky. His lips are gentle and confident, and they caress my own in a way that is both searing and tender. I slip my hand in his back pocket and hold us together as tight as can be. One of his arms snakes around me, his hand spreading out over the small of my back. Euphoria dances down my spine and settles into my being.

Isaiah pulls back, our noses brushing. There's a tiny tear streak on his cheek. Between our lips, his thumb presses my bottom lip. "I love you. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for loving me in return."

My lips quirk, a slight tremble in them. Every day with him feels like falling in love for the first time. "I think it's what I'm best at," I joke, trying to hide the shake in my voice.

"Loving me?" I nod. Isaiah lets out a tiny laugh, the air floating over my lips. "You're pretty good at it."

"Pretty good? That's all I get?" And this— this —also feels like love. Joking and teasing. Being able to do so. I love it. But who am I kidding? I love everything about loving Isaiah.

"Fine." He pecks my lips. "You're the best."

"Number one?" I smile against his lips.

"Number one."

I kiss him this time, leaning up on my tiptoes and slipping my tongue past his lips in a dance we created and only we know. Isaiah lifts me off the ground, my toes barely grazing the grass, and just holds me in his arms. It feels like a montage in a movie. It feels like seeing a shooting star for the first time or listening to a song you know is going to be your favorite. Sometimes, I think this isn't real life, and then, he reminds me it is.

Isaiah pulls back, hands still buried in my curls, my feet still dangling. "Alright," he says, putting me down. "Hop on."

Turning, he crouches, and I hop on his back like I have so many times before. Isaiah stands, hands cupping the back of my knees as gently as ever. Isaiah lifts me up, and above us, the bright stadium lights shine overhead. Up here, in his arms, I feel weightless. My arms are wound around his chest, and I sneak a kiss to the underside of his jaw. And because I can't help it, my arms find their way to the sides, feeling the warm air on my skin under the lights. Isaiah's laugh reverberates through my bones. I've never smiled so hard in my life. My arms fall, holding onto Isaiah again, smiling against his skin and staring at him the whole goddamn time he carries me.

He notices, casting me a sly, sexy look, and I ache at the strength of the gaze. He's going to love me forever. He has loved me forever. And he stops, adjusting me in his hold just so, just so he can kiss me. I'm love sick—like always. My heart might burst, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, like I have my own personal sun to chase me around.

I'm on a field I always dreamed of. With the man I always dreamed of loving.

This is the moment, the dream come true. I don't know how it gets better than this.

I don't think it does.

This is my life. This is our life.

This is love.