Page 128 of Mad Rivals
“Back to congrats.”
I laugh. “What about you? Any future Mrs. Mack on the horizon?”
“Fuck no. It’ll take some mighty magical pussy to get this guy thinking serious again.”
“Could be a brand-new legacy, Clay. Little Clay Macks running around with little Mad Brads,” I muse.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You propose to one woman, and you’re already dreaming of having kids?”
“Nah. I’m just kidding around. I still don’t know if I want that. If it happens, it happens.”
“Don’t put that out into the universe for me. I’m staying single.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said, too. And then I met the one woman who knew just how to take me down,” I admit.
“I’m not as weak as you, old man,” he teases.
We both laugh, and it must be a little too loud because we hear a pound on the wall from Spencer and DJ’s room next door.
We take that as our cue to go to sleep, and I need it after the way I worked today.
Instead of going to sleep, though, I text Kennedy.
Me:I miss you.
I think back to our early text conversations where I’d stare at my phone like an idiot, smiling down at what she was saying.
That still holds true to this day. I smile as I see her text come through.
Kennedy:I miss you more.
Everything about life right now feels pretty damn sweet as I’m back to playing the game I love, I’m CEO of Bradley Group, and I’m positive that the woman who was once my rival is eventually going to say yes.
EPILOGUE: Kennedy Van Buren
He Grins, and I Swoon
One Month Later
A year ago, you couldn’t have paid me enough to don a Bradley jersey, in particular one that wasn’t for my home team from Chicago, but here we are. I’m proudly wearing my man’s San Diego Storm jersey as I sit beside Clem in the front row right in the middle of the field on opening day on the Storm’s side of the field. I spot Cassie, the quarterback’s wife, sitting with Sophie, her soon-to-be sister-in-law, in the end zone, and I text her to let her know where we are. She waves wildly at me, and we already have plans to go out after the game to celebrate since we’re all feeling a victory down to our bones today.
Grace is here, too, up in the suites, I think, maybe with Spencer’s mom. These women—the football wives—have become my little local family as I’ve started to dig into life in San Diego. I realize they can come and go at any minute. Trades or retirement or injuries—it’s all possible in this ever-changing world, but for now, I feel like I’m part of something big and exciting. It feels like we’ve started bonding in ways that will take us far beyond this game.
I floundered a while as I worked out whether I really wanted to be here. I’m a Chicago girl at heart, and I always will be. But sometimes the heart can grow to love something else even more, and for me, that’s Madden. Home is wherever we make it, wherever we are together, and right now, we’re making it pretty damn sweet just outside of the San Diego city limits.
I haven’t told him yes yet, but it feels like today’s the day.
I’m nervous as I watch our boys take the field. I say a quick little meditation in my own mind:stay safe, have fun, and play your heart out.
I know he’s got three-hundred-pound defenders ready to plow into him to stop him from moving the ball up the field, and I don’t know how he’s so damn brave to face them. Something about this game is in his blood, though—even though his father couldn’t play, he and his brothers can.
I never in my life thought I’d cheer for anybody other than the Bears, but now that the man I love is a player on the San Diego Storm, my allegiance seems to have shifted to a new city.I’ll never cheer for anyone elsehas become an adage of the past. If the Storm plays the Bears, I might tease Madden that I have some issues with who to cheer for, but my allegiance will always fall to the man who holds my heart in his hand.
Clem and I are both eating popcorn and drinking beer, and even she showed up in a Storm shirt today.
Our team receives the ball first, and Tanner hands it off a few times to running backs. He passes to Spencer, and then Madden has a catch before the Cowboys take offense, and Madden stands on the sidelines while the Storm’s defense takes the field.
I watch the back of his head from where I sit, and he’s watching the game carefully. He’s dialed in and focused as he watches every play with an analytical eye, something he’s been trained to do for the last thirteen years that he’s played in this league. Will that number tick to fourteen? Time will tell, but we’ve talked fairly extensively about it, and I think I know what he wants to do.
