Page 145 of The Way We Win

Her full lips spread into a happy smile, and she reaches up to trace her finger along my jaw. “I love you, husband.”

“I love you, my dirty little wife.” She lifts her chin with a laugh, and I bend down to kiss her neck. “My sexy librarian…” Another kiss. “My beautiful lady…” Lifting my head, I catch her eyes again. “The mother of my baby?”

Her eyes light, and she grins adorably. “You never know what the future holds.”

“Perhaps another Bradford?”

“Tell me a poem.”

EPILOGUE

Allie

Two years later

“Say hey to your big brother, Knoxey!” I hold my six-week-old son in my lap, positioning him to see Austin on the iPad.

“Hey, little Knox!” Austin waves at the screen. “You’re a big boy today!”

His dark-haired baby brother wobbles his head and blows bubbles at the screen. Kimmie walks through, and I nod at her.

“Want to say hey to Austin?”

“Oh, hey, Austin.” She waves briefly before lowering to her knees to hold her little brother’s finger and kiss his teeny nose.

Austin grins. “Hey, Peanut.”

She doesn’t respond, and my eyebrow arches. I’m not sure what Dylan told her after the wedding, but she hasn’t said a word about marrying Austin or Jack and me ever since.

It’s like the matter is closed—even if we never miss a Tennessee game, and we all have orange Number 17 jerseys.

“My dream team is Texas.” My son resumes our conversationabout his post-graduate plans. “They’ve shown the most interest, and Jack knows everybody there.”

“I like it.” I smile warmly at my son, who’s quickly turning into a man. “It’s not as far as some of the offers you’ve told me about.”

“It’s no Buffalo,” he groans. “I don’t think I could deal with that level of cold. It was bad enough when we played in Minnesota for that exhibition game.”

“It’s nothing like we’re used to down here.”

“You can say that again.”

Knox starts to fuss, and I lift him onto my shoulder. “I’d better go. I miss you, honey.”

“Love you, Mom.”

We disconnect, and I shift my little boy around under my shirt to give him lunch. Leaning back in the swing, I look out at the water rippling on the shore.

An autumn breeze blows through the screens, and I look down at the leather-bound notebook I bought for my husband to record his thoughts, his short poems.

They’re so beautiful, and at times my heart aches at his words about his father, his parents, his family’s loss.

Then he’ll follow up with his love for me, his siblings, his daughter, his new son…

Light, hope, life, and all the dreams I ever had.

Bound in this little fist, this beautiful hand, this home.

“Can I hold Knoxey now?” Kimmie sits on the swing beside me, and I lift her little brother onto her shoulder.

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