Chapter 42: The Renegade Billionaire: EPILOGUE II

Six Months Later

“If you guys don’t hurry the fuck up, I’m going to be late,” Grey growls from the bottom of the stairs.

It’s his first full day back in almost five months, and the only thing he’s unpacked since he bought the house from Moose is a desk. I wrangled everyone to at least get his bedroom set up.

“We’re coming,” Braxton shouts back. “We told you to go ahead. Weren’t you supposed to be there hours ago anyway?” He walks out of the bathroom and meets me at the top of the stairs. Savvy and Clover slip out of a guest room, and we all head downstairs to the perpetually cranky new assistant football coach.

“Yes, I was. And that’s why we didn’t have to do this shit right now.”

I place my hands on my hips and glare at him until he gets uncomfortable. It’s my new favorite party trick.

“Fine, I told Coach B. I wouldn’t be there until warm-ups today anyway. I thought I was going to have an important call to take.”

“More important than football?” Braxton asks, but I know he’s just trying to wind Greyson up, so I elbow him in the gut.

“We got a hit on Sam,” Grey mutters.

“A—a hit, like you killed him?” Clover backs away from the grumpy CEO.

“What?” Grey snaps his head up, shock registering in his expression. “No, I don’t kill people, Clover. Jesus. What I mean is, my PI found him, and the police took him in.” He turns his glare on me, but something shifts in his gaze as he stares. “Harry was with him. They were running another con together at a fifty-plus community in Arizona, but from what I can tell, all the money they stole is gone.”

I’m too stunned to speak. Harry disappeared shortly after Alistair was arrested, almost as though he knew his time was coming to an end. But I wasn’t expecting this.

“Whatever happens,” Braxton says, tugging me into his side, “he did it to himself.”

“I know. I just feel bad for his dad.”

“Roger was the recipient of a new grant that will allow him to hire some help and not have to work as much,” Grey says.

“Greyson,” Braxton growls.

His best friend, his brother, simply gives him a two-finger salute and shrugs before walking toward the front door.

“You said you would tell me when you’re handing out donations to locals.” I’m so mad I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t hold my hand.

“And I will,” Braxton says. “This didn’t come from me, per se. Discreet Daily Deeds had a makeover, and the guy needed a break.”

He leans into my space, shifts the hair off my neck, and whispers, “I’ll make it up to you tonight. Over and over again.”

His words cause a shiver to work down both arms.

“Let’s go, people,” Grey commands in his booming voice.

Savvy is the first to move toward the exit, but then she stops short and picks up something from the entryway table.

“W-what are you doing with this?” she asks Greyson. She’s holding up some sort of manual.

When it flops back on her hand, I see the title: Ray of Hope. Georgia’s premier surrogacy agency.

Oh, crap. I thought he gave up on this.

“I told you, I’m getting myself a baby.” Somehow in the last ten seconds, Grey and Savvy have drifted so close that they’ll touch if they breathe too hard.

“Why this one?” Savvy sounds pissed, and her tense body language shows it.

“Because I only want the best, Savvy. And the best is in that book.” He takes a step back, and we all watch in stunned silence as she thrusts the manual into his chest and storms out the door.

“Well, that was weird,” Braxton whispers. “Also, what the fuck? I thought we were over the whole get a baby thing.”

“That’s on you. You need to talk him into getting a dog or something.”

Grey waves us out the door, and he might be the only resident in Happiness who actually locks the door behind him.

Braxton presses the button on the SUV he purchased for occasions like this. His truck is still my favorite though. We all pile in—Grey and Braxton in the front, and the three of us girls in the back.

“What time did Pops get to the game?” Clover asks, tugging her cardigan closer to her body. She’s going to melt in this heat. It may be September, but it’s unusually warm today.

“Braxton dropped him off at one,” I say. “I’m sure he’s driving everyone in the booth nuts already.”

“They love him up there,” Grey says without turning around. “He’s kind of a legend.”

“That’s for sure.” I can only imagine what kind of chaos Pops is creating.

Savvy sits beside me, biting her nails and attempting to kill Grey with eyeball lasers.

So today should be fun.

“Why does Coach B. let him strut around barking orders at everyone?” Savvy is definitely pouting in her seat next to me.

“Because he knows what he’s talking about,” Braxton answers through a handful of popcorn. “And rumor has it Coach B. is thinking about retiring in a couple of years. He’s just been waiting for the right replacement to come along.”

“And he thinks it’s Grey?” Savvy’s voice is pitched so high, I cover the ear she was shouting into.

“Here he comes.” Pops’ voice is three times louder than the other announcers, and Clover jolts, spilling peanuts everywhere. “That’s my boy. Sage Reyes for the field goal attempt.”

“Pops, you’re not supposed to use the microphones,” someone else says, though it’s muffled as if he’s wrestling the microphone from Pop’s hands. The more I think about it, the more I know that’s exactly what’s happening.

Braxton squeezes my hand tightly. Sage is definitely in better shape than he was at this time last year, but he’s still a lot skinnier than the men about to charge him.

“He hasn’t missed yet,” I remind him.

“No, but he got crushed last week.”

“It was an illegal hit. Those don’t happen every game.”

On the field, Grey rolls his coin through his fingers. Even Savvy is back to biting her nails as we all watch on.

“If he makes this, it’s game over,” Clover says excitedly. “This would just really stick it to dumb Coach Carlson. He never should’ve left us last season.”

“He won’t miss,” Braxton mutters.

Sage steps up to the ball, takes his long strides back and two to the side, holds up one hand, and goes for it. The ball sails through the air and hits dead center in between the goalposts just as time runs out.

His team rushes the field while we jump up and down. When I look up at Braxton, his eyes are misty—it’s the look of pure, unfiltered love, and when he turns that same expression my way, I know I’ve found my forever.