Page 112 of Anteros' Return

“Boss.” I nodded. One word was all it took for him to know I planned on doing exactly that.

We walked out onto our home pitch, the crowd going wild as they sang our team songs and chants. The fans were more than alive and ready to cheer us onto the win.

After our line up and shaking the hands of the opposing team, we were underway, ready to kick arse, and win the league. I knew exactly where Em and Liam sat cheering along with the crowd. It was something that spurred me at every game. Whether we were home or away, they’d be there even if it meant sitting in the away fan section. The fans knew of my family and loved her and Liam. She was welcomed into the club just as warmly as I was.

We’d been playing for eighty-eight minutes and after a bollocking from the main man at half time, we knew we had to pull our fingers out with only two minutes remaining. We couldn’t walk away with a draw. That one point wouldn’t be enough. We weren’t about to come bloody second. We were better than that.

I made a run into the penalty box as Ricky Towler crossed the ball to me. Composing myself, I went to shoot the shot I knew I wouldn’t miss when I was taken down by a dirty tackle from behind.

“Fuck!” I spat as I laid there for a second trying not to lose my shit. I could practically hear Emily’s heart stop with worry from all the way down here, but luckily, I wasn’t hurt like last time.

Ricky helped me up as we waited for the ref to return after checking VAR.

“You good, man?” he asked.

“Yeah, all good.” I glanced up at where Emily and Liam were sitting, and although I couldn’t see them fully, I held up my hand to let her know I was alright.

“PENALTY!” the ref called as he returned.

“Show them who Beckett fucking Ashmore is!” Ricky cheered as he riled up the crowd until silence was needed.

I placed the ball on the penalty spot, taking a deep breath before glancing up to Emily and Liam once more, knowing Emily would barely be able to look. I looked up at the goalkeeper, his eyes locked on mine. He was big, towering in his net, but I had faced tougher before. He was nothing special.

I had practiced this a thousand times. The angle. The pace. The place I’d aim. The one spot I knew I wouldn’t miss. My focus narrowed on the ball. There was no room for doubt, no space for hesitation. I heard the referee’s whistle, sharp and clear, and with a single breath, I took my run up.

My foot met the ball, connecting cleanly. I could feel the power and precision in the way I hit it, controlled but fast. It flew towards the bottom right corner of the goal where I knew the keeper couldn’t reach it. For a moment, I watched in silence, holding my breath as it spun through the air.

And then I saw it… The net rippled as the ball struck the back of it. The crowd erupted, the noise deafening. I sprinted to the corner where the fans were, a beaming smile spread across my face as I dedicated my goal to Emily and Liam, pointing up in their direction. The team joined from behind jumping on my back with delight. The final whistle blew, and we had won. We’d fucking won.

After lifting the trophy as a team, we celebrated with our families on the pitch. All of our children ran around together as the crowd clapped for them and the goals they were scoring against one another, especially Liam, and Ricky’s son.

“Congratulations.” Emily beamed as I ran up to her, spinning her around in my arms, the moment now complete. “I have to admit, my heart was in my mouth when that guy took you out. I felt sick.”

“Are you alright now, though?” I smiled, cupping her face as I admired her wearing my shirt.

“That depends on how well you take the news.” I had an inkling she was about to say something I had dreamed of her saying, but I knew better than to jump the gun.

I watched as she pulled something very fucking tiny from behind the waistband of her jeans. I stepped back for a second as she held up the smallest football shirt I’d ever seen with the name daddy and number nine on the back—my number.

“Wait, are you…?” I breathed, trying to catch my breath and find words.

“We’re pregnant, Beck.” She giggled as I lifted her into my arms effortlessly, too over the moon to care about anyone else. “I’m going to be a dad again,” I shouted loud enough for the team to hear, which only earned the pair of us cheers from the guys and squeals of excitement from the wives. Everyone was over the moon for us, but all I cared about was Emily . She was carrying my baby for a second time, but it would be different this time. This time, I’d be there for her every step of the way.

“This is better than winning the league,” I whispered as I lost myself in her.

Five years later…

“Beck, could you put Gracie’s shoes on please?” Em asked from the kitchen, but Liam beat me to it.

“I’ll do it, Mum,” Liam called as he walked to the stairs where his sister sat patiently waiting.

She adored Liam. She followed him everywhere, and despite having close to a ten-year age gap, he loved it. He read to her, put her to bed, bathed her, and spent more time with her than anyone else. He had surprised me but in the best possible way.

“Liam, are you coming to watch your sister at ballet today?” I asked, knowing he wished she had taken up football.

“Yeah, she wants me there, don’t you, Gracie?”

“Yes, pwease, Liam.” She grinned, her pearly whites on show.

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