Page 121 of Irresistibly Risky

EPILOGUE

Four months later

It’s the craziest thing. All of it is. After Joe was fired, no one expected the Boston Rebels to do much of anything. They had an interim head coach. Quarterback battles—or so the media played it. Not to mention, they were already going into this without much of a winning record. The playoffs seemed like a lofty goal to everyone.

Everyone except Asher.

Asher and I went to visit Leo in the hospital the day after his injury, and we both told him everything. He was shocked. His mother never spoke about who his father was, and I could see how hard it hit him to learn that he had been drafted and working with his biological father without actually knowing it.

He was also furious when he learned all that Joe had done to secure his spot on the team. After Joe was fired, he officially retired from football, knowing his demons would follow him if he ever tried to coach anywhere else. He moved back to LA, and though I don’t want anything to do with him personally, I do follow his care through his oncologist.

As for the team, there was a lot to figure out. A lot to sort through, both emotionally and figuratively since sorting through what was best for the team going forward wasn’t so cut and dry. Asher did what any great leader would do. Once Leo was out of the hospital and feeling a bit better, he invited the entire team, including coaches, over to the apartment, and they all talked it out. They figured out a strategy for the rest of the season. Something that went beyond one game at a time.

And it worked for them.

Because here we are at the same club I met Asher in three years ago, practically to the day.

And the Boston Rebels won the Super Bowl—again.

The first team to ever do so with an interim coach and two starting quarterbacks. Asher takes the majority of the snaps and does the majority of the playing, but they use Leo for Wild Cat formations and other plays when they want to throw off the defense.

The VIP floor of the club is pounding so loud with thumping house music and the loud chatter of the team and their significant others that you can feel it vibrating in your bones. I didn’t have to sneak up here this time, which is sort of a bummer actually.

That was a total thrill that night.

Until things got all mucked up in the bathroom after that, of course.

But now I’m here as not only the team’s orthopedic surgeon but also as the MVP’s girlfriend. Asher led the team to a twenty-one to ten victory over Badlands and is flying higher than I’ve ever seen him. Thankfully, without the aid of muscle relaxants or too many shots. His boys and their women are here—because they never seem to go or do anything without each other—and we’ve all been dancing our collective asses off.

The song morphs into a slower, more hypnotic rhythm, and suddenly Leo is before me, pulling me into his arms and moving us in a slow dance. In the months since I found out that he’s my half-brother, we’ve grown impossibly close. I’ve met his mother and his sisters, and he loves ‘uncle time’ with Mason.

I may have lost my biological father—hell, I’m not sure I ever had him to begin with—but the one thing Joe did manage to do for me is give me a brother.

“I have something to tell you,” he says after we hit a lull in the excited chatter of discussing the game.

“Why do you look nervous, Leo?”

He spins me out and then twirls me back into his chest. “Because I am.”

My heart rate picks up a few extra beats at the serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Vegas reached out to my agent. They want me to be their starting QB next season.”

“Vegas?” I echo, my voice hollow as swirls of Rebels red and blue colored lights skate over us. “But that’s so far away. And aren’t you under contract with the Rebels?”

“Yes, but I don’t think Randolph will be opposed to making a deal for me, and now is the time for me to strike. We just won the Super Bowl. I was part of that as a rookie. This is my chance to land a big contract and be the starter for a team.”

As much as I’m reluctant to admit this, I know he’s right. This is his shot. Joe got him drafted high, but no one knows how it happened. His team just won the Super Bowl with his help. He’s a young kid at the start of his career, and he should take it and see how high he can go with it.

I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him in for a hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

He squeezes me. “I’m going to miss you. You and Mason will come to visit because the weather in Vegas is nicer than in Boston.”

I laugh. He knows how much I dislike the cold of New England.

“Buy a place with a pool,” I tell him, making him chuckle in my ear.

“No doubt. You can even bring that mediocre quarterback of yours.” He and Asher are very close but love ribbing each other every chance they get.

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