Page 88 of Second Quarter Comeback
“It’s perfect,” I say, meaning it.
“Your turn,” she says, nudging me with her elbow.
“For what?”
“To tell me what your favorite part is.”
I don’t even have to think. “Wherever you are.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile she gives me is pure sunshine. “That was disgustingly smooth.”
“You loved it.”
“Shut up.” She kisses me anyway.
The past year has been a whirlwind. Camille’s practice has taken off in ways neither of us expected. What started as a small consultation business is now a thriving center for women’s health. She’s running workshops, hosting community events, and building a network of resources that’s reaching far beyond Brooklyn. I couldn’t be prouder.
As for me, I’m still with the Gladiators. Last year’s championship win was the highlight of my career. Sure, I’ve got a few seasons left, but I know my playing days are winding down. For the first time, that doesn’t terrify me.
“Kill,” Camille calls from downstairs. “Can you grab the bag of linens from the car?”
“On it,” I shout back, jogging down the stairs.
By the time I return with the bag, she’s in the kitchen, unpacking mugs and humming to herself. I set the bag on the counter and slide my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“You’re in a good mood,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She tilts her head slightly, her smile warm and easy. “I am. It feels good, doesn’t it? Starting fresh.”
“It does,” I agree, tightening my arms around her. “And just think—this time next week, we’ll be hosting a housewarming party with the entire Crawford clan.”
She groans, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “Do you think Sarah will open every door in the house again?”
“Probably,” I admit. “But at least there aren’t any horses this time.”
We laugh, the sound filling the kitchen and spilling into the rest of the house.
Later that evening, after the last box is unpacked and the cats have begrudgingly approved the new furniture, we curl up on the couch together.
“This is it,” she says softly, her head resting on my shoulder. “Our new beginning.”
I kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer. “Our forever. And believe me, baby, I know a thing or two about second-quarter comebacks.”
WHAT IS NEXT FOR THE CRAWFORDS?
Leif and Hailey’s Book
The Final Faceoff.
The universe has a twisted senseof humor.
I’ve spentyears building a life I could pack in a carry-on. No ties, no mess, no exes lingering like bad draft picks. Just me, my camera, and a healthy fear of anything resembling emotional stability.
Enter Leif Crawford.NHL goalie. Human brick wall. Best friend since high school.
He’s the guy who always shows up, even when I don’t ask.
Especially when I don’t ask.
