Page 117 of The Longest Shot
“Yeah, it is.”
They stand there, two men who don’t know how to talk without their familiar script of performance and reaction. But the difference is James doesn't need the sparks to power him, whereas it's clear Sean is struggling without the friction. Finally, Sean claps James on the shoulder—gentler this time, less possessive.
“Drive safe," he says.
“Will do.”
In the car, pulling away from the chaos into blessed quiet, James reaches over and takes my hand. We drive in silence for miles, the quiet feeling sacred after all that noise. His thumb traces patterns on my palm that might be words, might be promises, or might just be him needing to touch me.
“Thank you,” he finally says. “For coming. For standing with me. For… seeing it.”
“Seeing what?”
“The moment I didn’t perform.” His voice carries wonder. “I almost did. God, I almost did. The joke was right there, locked and loaded. Something about Dad’s grilling being worse than hisgolf game, to get everyone laughing and get everything back on safe ground.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” He glances at me. “I remembered I had a choice. That the silence isn’t my responsibility to fill. You showed me that quiet can be safe.”
The words hit somewhere deep. “And you showed me that trusting and being close to someone doesn't always mean surrendering control or being hurt.”
He smiles at me.
“Speaking of which,” I say, needing to lighten things before I do something embarrassing, “Goalie of the Semester? Were you ever planning to mention that?”
He shrugs, eyes on the road. And that, maybe more than anything else today, shows me how far we’ve both come. His achievement exists without needing an audience, my presence doesn’t require walls, and our connection is strong enough to hold up two people who until recently were very broken.
“I love you,” I tell him, the words still new enough to feel dangerous.
“I love you too,” he says, bringing my hand to his lips. "You're stuck with me…"
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess I am.”
But it doesn't feel like being stuck.
It feels like choosing to stay, choosing to trust, and choosing him, chaos and all.
It feels like coming home.
The ping of my phone interrupts the moment, and I look at it. "Oh shit…"
"What?" he says.
"It's Walsh," I say, breathlessly, as I read the words on the screen. "Our budget just got doubled, and the program just got extended to next year…"
"It'll survive after you're gone," he smiles. "Proud of you,captain, because you fought for those girls and you've built something that will endure."
I nod, closing my eyes to savor the moment for just a second, then turning to him with an impish grin. "Any secluded beaches around here?"
He turns to me with a confused frown. "Why?"
"Because I want to celebrate," I say. "I want to get loud with you."
epilogue 2
ROOK
The sand burnswarm beneath my bare feet, still hoarding the day’s heat, as Morgan walks beside me, her fingers threaded through mine. As we walk in silence, I keep stealing glances like I’m fifteen and she’s the senior who accidentally smiled at me in the hallway.
