by Megan Green
A man whose dark hair and familiar build I’d recognize anywhere. A man who, until only moments ago, I was worried I might not ever be able to earn the forgiveness of.
A man who means more to me than life itself.
A man I love more than I ever thought possible.
“Carter,” I rasp, unsure if I’m really seeing him here or if it’s some sort of psychotic break brought on by so many memories and the sound of his voice.
But, suddenly, my mother is by my side once again, nudging me with her shoulder. “Go to him, Avie Bug.”
I look at her in shock, my mouth falling open as I realize she knew he would be here. I want to ask her a million questions, find out exactly how this all came about.
But it’s going to have to wait.
I drop the phone from my ear, absently stuffing it back in my pocket as I spring forward, closing the distance between us in a few long strides.
Okay, flat-out sprint is more like it. But, as soon as I realized he wasn’t a figment of my imagination, there was no way I was wasting a single second with walking.
I skid to a halt when I reach the edge of the merry-go-round, my eyes locked with his, unwilling to look away for even a moment, for fear he might disappear.
He takes a few steps toward me, dropping to his knees when he reaches me, his hands immediately tangling in my hair as he tilts my head back, so my gaze meets his.
“You’re here,” I say, my voice wavering as I struggle to hold back more tears.
Carter presses his lips to the tip of my nose. “I’m here.”
“Why?”
His thumbs trace along the outline of my cheekbones, and I turn my face into his touch. I know I missed him these last few days. But the feel of his skin on mine again, the gentle touch of his fingertips, is enough to make me breathless. I missed Carter more than I even realized. And, for the first time in four days, I feel whole.
“Because you’re here. And wherever you are is where I belong.”
“Carter, I’m so sorry—” I start, but I’m immediately silenced with a brush of his lips.
“Shh,” he whispers against my lips. “I know, Smalls. I’m sorry, too.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” I ask, pulling back and furrowing my brows.
Carter didn’t do anything wrong.
“I’m sorry for not listening. For not understanding. I’m sorry for acting like such a fool when all I needed to do was hold you in my arms and know that you meant every word you said. But, mostly, I’m sorry for letting you walk away from me.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying away for long,” I tell him, sliding down to sit next to him on the merry-go-round. “I have a flight booked back to Seattle in a couple of hours.”
He smiles. “I know. Your mom promised me she’d do whatever it took to keep you from getting on that plane if I didn’t make it here in time. I admit, it was pretty touch and go there for a bit.”
I look over to where my mother is standing, surprised to see my father has now joined her along with some friends of theirs—the Bishops. The two little kids who were playing on the swings stand next to Mrs. Bishop, the little girl’s hand clasped in hers, the little boy’s linked with his friend’s.
“Did my mom arrange this whole thing? Even those kids?”
Carter shrugs sheepishly. “She said she knew some kids who would remind you of us. The little girl is her friend’s granddaughter. They’re in town, visiting for Mr. Bishop’s birthday.”
I nod, knowing my mother and I are going to have a very long chat, mostly so that I can thank her.
Carter stands and brushes off the back of his pants, shaking his head at me when I move to follow. Closing his hands around two of the metal bars around the edge of the merry-go-round, he gives me a boyish grin as he starts to walk.
The merry-go-round follows his movements, moving slowly as Carter moves at a snail’s pace.
“A million years ago, on this very playground, you asked me to be your friend,” he says as he moves, his eyes never leaving mine. “I didn’t know it at the time, but that day became the most defining moment of my life. You see, at the ripe old age of nine years old, I met the love of my life.”
My cheeks flush. “I was such a little nightmare back then. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me to get lost after I insisted you be my fake husband.”
He laughs. “I would’ve married you a thousand times if it meant I got to be close to you, Smalls. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did.”
“At least,” I add with a chuckle.
He levels his gaze on me as he begins to pick up the pace. To avoid falling off, my hands shoot out to grab hold of one of the same metal bars Carter’s holding.
“A million years ago, you changed my life. From that day forward, nothing was ever the same. And then, a few months ago, when you showed up on my doorstep with a bag in your hand and tears in your eyes, you changed it again.”
I think back to that day, how miserable I was as I knocked on Carter’s door and hoped he wouldn’t turn me away. I realize the misery I felt that day was nothing compared to the way I felt the last four days. Carter says I changed his life again that day, but he changed mine, too.
He showed me what it meant to love.
“You showed up on my doorstep, and you turned my life on its axis for the second time. I had no idea when I saw you there that it would only be a matter of time before everything I’d ever wanted would finally be mine. And, when it finally happened, I was convinced it was only a matter of time before I woke up from this amazing dream I’d fallen into. Seeing you with him that night only made me think it was finally ending. That I was finally coming to.”
“Carter, I—”
He shakes his head, breaking out into a full-on run as he gets the merry-go-round up to full speed. When it’s finally going so fast that he can’t keep up, he heaves himself up onto it, sliding his way over to me and taking my face in his hands.
I hold on to the bar, wrapping my legs around his hips to keep us both in place. Carter’s thumbs trace my cheeks, his eyes locked on mine as his soul peers into me.
“The thing I’ve realized, Smalls,” he starts, his voice coming out in labored breaths from his exertion, “is that it doesn’t matter if this is a dream. If it’s reality. Because the only thing that matters is you. It’s all that’s ever mattered. Your happiness. Your love. Your amazing spirit. You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to me, Smalls. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you. Forever.”
My fingers fall free from the bar, instead coming up to cup his face. Our lips crash together as we slide across the metal platform, Carter falling onto his back as we reach the middle. We don’t break our kiss as we finish riding out the momentum of the merry-go-round, our mouths clashing and tender all at once as we devour each other.
When the ride finally slows, Carter sits us back up so that I’m straddling him. When it comes to a complete stop, he pulls back, his forehead pressing against mine as his hot breath feathers across my lips.
“Hey, Smalls…” he says, his voice sounding strained and slightly aroused.
I grin, wishing like hell we were back in his Seattle apartment instead of on a playground in Stetson, my parents and several others standing only yards away.
The thought causes me to pull away from Carter in a hurry. My parents just watched me practically dry-humping my childhood best friend.
But Carter’s hands are right there, keeping my forehead pressed against his and our gazes locked.
“Hey, Smalls…” he repeats, his voice slightly steadier now.
“Yeah?” I ask, not sure what exactly he has to say after everything that’s already been said.
He cracks an easy smile. “What do you say we play a game?”
My brows rise. “A game? Now?” My voice is incredulous, my confusion evident over how he went from kissing me breathless to suggesting we play a game on the playground in less than ten seconds flat.
He nods. “Yeah, a game. And maybe not right now. But in a few months.”
Now, my brows furrow, the confusion I was feeling only deepening the more he speaks. “What do you mean, Carter? You want to come back here and play a game in a few months?”
He shrugs. “Here, Seattle, Hawaii…wherever you want.”
“Carter, you’re not making any sense.”
One of his hands drops from my face and reaches into his pocket. He pulls back just enough so that he can bring whatever it is he’s found up between us.
In his fingers is a ring.
A solitary marquise diamond set in a platinum band.
It’s understated and simple. And it’s absolutely perfect. The type of ring I’ve always envisioned myself wearing.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth as my eyes move from the ring to Carter’s. And all the stunned surprise I was feeling is instantly forgotten the moment our eyes lock.
Because the love I see staring back at me is so all-consuming; I’m pretty sure I forget how to breathe.
“Avery Grant…” Carter begins, his voice shaky with emotion.
I reach over and smooth the back of my hand across his face, letting him know I’m here. It’s just me. And there’s nothing in this world we can’t do.
Together.
“Avery, a million years ago, you asked me to play wedding. You taught me all the rules of a wedding, and then you taught me all the rules of love. You might not have known it at the time, but you showed me what it meant to truly love someone. You came into my life like a little tornado, and you completely uprooted my existence and replanted it right alongside yours.”
I sniffle as I let out a small laugh. His analogy isn’t wrong. I didn’t give Carter much choice on being my friend back then.
“I’ve been grateful for that moment every single day of my life since. And, now, a million years since you first asked me to be your pretend husband, I’m here to ask you to be my wife. Avery Grant, will you play wedding with me? For real, this time?”
The final word hasn’t even completely left his lips before I lunge at him, my mouth covering his as I say, “Yes,” over and over again, punctuating each word with a kiss.
His large arms circle around my back, tightly hugging me to him as he once again leans us back on the merry-go-round.
A loud whoop sounds from behind us, and we break for just a moment to look back and see my parents, the Bishops, and the two kids clapping wildly as they watch. When Carter gives a wave of his hand, my mother gives him a thumbs-up, turning to the others and ushering them away.
Once they’re out of eyesight, he turns his face back to me. “Now, where were we?”
I smile as I press my lips back to his, knowing there’s no place else I’d rather be.
I’m exactly where I belong.
I’m home.
Epilogue
Carter
Ten Years Later
Brandon Jeffers wipes away a fake tear as Ian Taggart leans over and blows out the candles on his cake.
It’s Tag’s birthday tomorrow, but that’s not the only reason we’re celebrating.
Next week, after the final game of the season, Tag is officially hanging up his mitt. At nearly forty, his body has been telling him for years it’s time to toss in his cleats. And, now, with his and Lexi’s twin daughters about to start kindergarten, Tag has finally decided to listen.
“It’s just not going to be the same without you,” Brandon says with a bogus sniffle. “The Rampage is going to miss their golden boy.”
Tag reaches over and smacks Brandon upside the head, a gesture he’s done no less than ten million times over the last decade. And, just like all those other times, Brandon winces and rubs the spot with his hand, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face as he lifts his gaze to Tag’s.
“Jeez, can’t even pay a man a compliment without getting abused around here.”
“Shut it, B. Besides, it’s not like you’re not following behind me next season.”
My eyes dart up to Brandon’s, the news of his impending retirement a complete shock to me. “For real, B?”
Brandon nods. “Yeah, time for this old man to leave the glory to you youngins.”
I roll my eyes. Brandon and Tag aren’t that much older than me, and I’m pretty sure my arm only has a few more good years left in it before I’ll be following in their footsteps. But still…knowing they’re both leaving soon causes a deep pang in the pit of my stomach.
It truly is the end of an era.
Brandon’s nearly ten-year-old son, Charlie, chooses that moment to storm out of the back of the house, the screened door banging shut behind him as he stomps out on the deck and right up to Brandon.
“Dad,” he whines, turning and looking back up at the house, “tell Kyle to stop messing with my Legos. He keeps undoing all the pieces I put together for my Hogwarts castle.”
Brandon blows out an exasperated breath. His son Charlie was born a few months after Avery and I returned to Seattle all those years ago, and much to Brandon’s dismay, he took completely after his mother. Charlie is a book nerd through and through, not a single athletic bone in his tiny body.
But Brandon has fiercely loved that kid since the day he was born, their differences only bringing them closer together instead of driving them apart.
Ten years ago, I never would’ve thought I’d see the day when Brandon Jeffers dressed up as Hagrid and took his six-year-old Harry Potter son trick-or-treating. But Brandon wore the costume with pride, even going as far as to carry around a pink cake and a busted umbrella all night.
His son Kyle was born five years after Charlie, and he is every inch Brandon’s son. The kid can already hit a ball like nobody’s business and prefers watching SportsCenter with his dad to Saturday morning cartoons. And, despite being half his age, Kyle loves to torment his older brother. Sort of like Brandon loves to torment me and Tag.
Pushing up from his chair, Brandon turns to give us an apologetic look. “Sorry, boys, duty calls. Go ahead and cut the cake. I’ll tell the girls we’re ready and try to wrangle all the cretins.”
Two minutes later, Lexi, Liv, and Avery all file out the back door, Brandon close on their heels with his five-year-old son perched on his hip. He gives a sharp whistle, pulling the attention of Tag’s twins—Sara and Ellie—from the dolls they were playing with under the large oak tree and over to where we’re all sitting on the patio.
I stand, hooding my hand over my eyes to block the sun as I search for the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on.
After their mother, of course.
And, as if summoned by my thoughts, Avery steps up behind me, her arms twining around my waist and her chin coming to rest on my shoulder. She lets out a content sigh as we watch our daughters play out on the grass.
Avery and I got married six months after I proposed, the wedding taking place in the very same place I’d married her hundreds of times before. Beneath that pavilion on our old childhood playground, we exchanged rings and vowed to love one another forever, through the good times and the bad.
And, now, ten years later, I am convinced the bad doesn’t exist when it comes to Avery and me.
A year after our wedding, we found out we were pregnant with our first daughter, Amelia. And, despite those first few months of sleepless nights and endless dirty diapers, I know there is no bigger blessing I could ever ask for.
And then our second daughter, Isabelle, was born, and as full as I’d thought my life and my heart were, there was still room in it for that precious little girl.
At eight and four, Millie and Izzy are the lights of my life. And their mother…
She’s the sun that lights my entire universe.
I turn to face her, my hands coming down to rest on her very pregnant belly. Our son, CJ, is due any day now, and to say I’m excited to meet him would be an understatement. I adore my girls more than life itself. But, with the arrival of Carter Junior—Avery’s idea, not mine, th
ough I can’t say I don’t get a little swell of pride every time someone says the name aloud—our little family will finally be complete.
I can’t wait to see what kind of man he’ll turn out to be. If he’ll like baseball like his daddy or if he’ll be more like his mom and sisters. Either way is fine with me as long as I still get to hold him in my arms and kiss him good night until he’s old enough to tell me to stop.
“I’d better go get our children,” Avery says, looking back over at the girls, who are seemingly lost in their own little world.
Amelia is braiding Isabelle’s hair, little sprigs of flowers sticking out at various angles as she goes.
Millie is the spitting image of her mother, both in looks and in demeanor. A few months ago, Millie flipped through our wedding album, and she’s been obsessed with weddings ever since.
She’s been trying to talk little Charlie into being her husband for weeks now. Fortunately for me, Charlie is made of stronger stuff than I was at that age. So far, he’s been able to resist her charm, but I know it’s only a matter of time before he caves.
She has those eyes. The same eyes as her mother. The eyes that make it impossible to say no.
I pat Avery’s hand and gesture her over to a chair. “You sit down and rest. I’ll go get them.”
She smiles up at me as she does exactly that, relief immediately washing over her face as she puts her feet up. This pregnancy has been the hardest yet, and I know she can’t wait for CJ to make his grand debut.
Strolling out to my daughters, I drop down to a crouch when I reach them. “What’s up, girls? You want some cake?”
Izzy immediately leaps to her feet, taking off like a shot at the mention of the C-word.
Millie gives me a skeptical look though. “Is there ice cream?” she asks with narrowed eyes.
I chuckle softly, glad at least one of my children understands the superiority of ice cream to cake.
“You know it, baby girl. Mint chocolate chip. Your favorite.”
She squeals in delight, jumping up to scamper off after her sister. I don’t miss the long look she gives Charlie as she passes him though, Charlie’s face reddening as his gaze falls down to his plate.
