Page 160 of Close Knit

“I love you too.” She presses her forehead against mine, her palms cupping my jaw.

“I never want to go a single day without you in my life.”

She shakes her head. “I’m proud of you, Cameron, for finding the courage to grow.”

“For me and for us. There was never another option.” I can’t believe that I almost lost her. That thought shakes me more than any opponent on the field ever could. I’ll never make that mistake again.“You and me, Duck?”

She nods. “Yes, yes, yes.” Her words are like a chant in my ears.

Having her here with me, in my arms, makes me feel like I can take on the world. It feels right; it feels like home. This victory isn’t just for me or my team. It’s for her, for making me stronger, for making me better. For helping me find myself.

A reporter thrusts a camera in our faces. The flash is blinding, an unwanted guest in this intimate moment. But instead of recoiling, I make a choice. A choice I should’ve made a long fucking time ago.

“Daphne,” I mutter, my voice barely a whisper among the ruckus.

She glances up, those wide eyes full of questions.

“Yes?” she manages, her voice a shaky melody amid the uproar.

I lean in, taking her face in my hands. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“No one’s ever announced it like that before, Goose.” Her laughter rings in my ears as our lips finally meet.

This kiss shouts the endless tomorrows we’re going to have. The life we will create together. It feels like the end of a long, grueling marathon. It tastes of the sweat of the game, the whispered doubts we stomped into the ground, the sweetness of her tongue. Raucous noise, my teammates, the blinding lights…they just fade into oblivion.

All that’s left is the feel of her lips against mine and the synchrony of our racing hearts.

“Too much?” I mumble against her lips, all too aware of the flashing cameras. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. I want the whole world to know that Daphne Quinn has me.

“Not nearly enough.” She laughs.

“Good.”

Forget the trophy. This right here, my two feet on solid ground, her in my arms, is the real victory. Everything I fought for and won.

Epilogue

Daphne

Six Months Later

Today is moving day!

Since I moved back to London in May, after Lyndhurst won the championship, Cameron and I have flourished like wildflowers on Miracle-Gro. We decided to stay in London because it’s the city where we fell in love, our circle of friends is here, and his contract with Lyndhurst got renewed. It feels like we never took time apart. We tried to keep our separate apartments at the Lion’s Lodge, but it was pointless—he never seemed to leave my bed, except on weekends when he was off blocking goals at away matches or when I was traveling through the UK for my knitting retreats, hitting a new town every month with my yarn and needles!

I steal a glance at the driver’s seat, where Cameron’s grinning like he just pulled off a last-second save in a World Cup final. We’re pulling into the parking lot of his—scratch that—ourapartment, and he’s rocking the navy sweater I gave him this morning for his birthday. Nestled in my lap is a surprise birthday cake, and he’s completely clueless. He thinks I popped into Petal & Plate to snag some moving-day pastries, which Iwas very easily able to convince him were a thing. Little does he know, the surprise I have planned is going to be one for the books.

Cameron is happier now.

I am, too.

The gloomy Eeyore cloud that used to hover over him has evaporated; he’s going to therapy, actively engaging with his friends, and giving back at the foundation. Charlie Lewis was permanently barred from the Premier League after the investigation, and Cameron’s old coach, Mateo Rossi, was pressured into retiring. Despite wishing more justice would’ve been served, I’m so glad that he’s never going to coach another team ever again.

So is Cameron.

His smiles are real now, practically permanent, and I’m obsessed.

“I have to say, you look ridiculously handsome in that color,” I remark, placing my hand on his thigh and leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

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