by Dean, Ali
“Don’t think you have free passes to be little shits!” Ian called from the couch.
“Ian!” Mimi and Vanessa scolded his language.
“Us too?” Emmett said, pointing at his chest. “Well, damn. I thought it was just Prince Donovan and baby boy over there who got all the mad respect.”
“Okay kids,” Mimi said with a heavy sigh. “Time for pie.”
Epilogue
8 weeks later
Hazel
It was barely above freezing, but we were packed in so tight, body heat was keeping us warm. Or maybe it was adrenaline. Warm jackets, winter hats, and hot chocolate helped too. But I was pretty sure it was the energy vibrating from the thousands of fans that kept any of us from thinking about the cold. Late November in Massachusetts, we were just lucky it wasn’t snowing or sleeting. Last year’s state championships had been in freezing rain.
The guys weren’t cold though. Through the bright light illuminating the field, we could see steam coming off their bodies.
I stood in the front row beside Dad, Aunt Vanessa, Uncle Ian, Pops, Mimi, Ruby, Mitch and Jake. Yes, Jake was there too. He hadn’t seen his son play in years, but he’d been up for it tonight. We’d won the girls’ state championships earlier in the day, and I’d had time for a quick shower before returning to watch the guys’ evening game.
We were there with thousands of others from Defiance Falls. After overflowing the stands at all the play-off games, there was a push to host the championship games at UMass Thatcher’s stadium, which had the largest soccer stadium in the state. It was filled to capacity at 8,000 people, and nearly all of them were Defiance Falls fans.
My voice was already hoarse from cheering. They didn’t need it though. They’d been on fire all season, my five guys taking their connection on the field to the next level.
“They’re going to tear up the Ivy League,” Ruby said beside me. “Maybe they should have gone pro instead.”
“It really is embarrassing to watch, isn’t it? Just look at them. No one else has touched the ball in the last ten minutes. It’s like they’re toying with the other team.”
“This isn’t normal, right?” she asked for the fifth time. “You’re the soccer player, but it just seems weird how they pass to each other so effortlessly, and no one can stop them.”
“No, it isn’t normal,” I confirmed. “It’s like they can read each other’s minds.”
Aunt Vanessa was standing right behind me and she said, “It’s almost supernatural. They had this instant connection on the field in middle school too but now watching it and how it’s grown, it’s really beautiful.”
We weren’t the only ones in awe. Everyone in the stands was enraptured.
Cruz was dribbling down the side of the field now in the final minute of the game. They were already up by two goals, but when he neared the end of the field, I let out another cheer through my barely-functional vocal cords. They could score another. Moody was in the center, right in front of the goal post, and Spike was on the other side of the field. A defender was blocking Cruz’s path to the goal but with one strategic cut, he maneuvered far enough out of reach to send a pass in the air.
Moody dove for it, the side of his head connecting with the ball and shooting it toward the side of the goal. The goalie lunged, his hands barely making contact, but enough to redirect the ball off to the side and prevent it from going in the net. Spike was right there, lying in wait like he’d been anticipating this opportunity for the entire game. His foot hit the ball in the air before it could land, before any defender could react, and the ball smashed into the back of the net. As it did, the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game.
Defiance Falls won 4-1, and the players from the bench were storming the field now. The team congregated in a mosh pit-type hug before shaking hands with the opposing side.
I wasn’t sure what the protocol was in a big stadium like this… okay, fine, I kind of assumed spectators weren’t allowed on the field when there were 8,000 of us. But I’d discovered I liked breaking rules on occasion so I jogged forward and jumped the barrier, heading straight for my guys.
Cruz spotted me first and swung me around. “How’s my dad?” he asked when he put me down.
“He was mesmerized by you and the guys, just like the rest of us,” I told him, which was the truth. Jake hadn’t taken his eyes off his son the entire game, as far as I could tell. Each time I’d looked over at him his gaze was glued to the field.
Cruz looked over my shoulder, and I knew it was his dad, because that was the only person who would cause him to unwrap his arms from my waist. I watched as father and son hugged, and when they pulled away, both had glassy eyes.
“I’m going to have Gramps take me home, son, but you stay and have fun. I don’t want to start crying and embarrass you.”
As Mitch gave a quick hug to his grandson and walked with Jake off the field, I had to fight my own tears. I’d been an emotional mess lately. This past week leading up to the final had been a whirlwind.
All six of us received our early acceptance to Harvard on Monday, the same day Seamus Malone shocked the hell out of the nation by pleading guilty to numerous RICO charges. There was no real incentive for him to do it. The sentence wasn’t technically a life sentence, but unless he lived past 100 years old, he’d be spending the rest of his life in jail whether he pled or a jury found him guilty. The only reason to plead guilty would be to avoid the rigors of trial and the media circus that would continue for years. There were still dozens of Malone relatives trying to piece a life back together, and while there wasn’t much to salvage in the way of reputation for the family name, having the family’s crimes spread over the headlines every day for years to come would be brutal for any Malone on the outside. Or inside, for that matter.
It seemed Seamus had some leadership potential after all. He must have convinced other family members of the wisdom of avoiding trials because one by one all week, each of the top dogs in the Malone Mafia pled guilty to various related RICO charges, with Raymond pleading guilty to attempting my murder. Maybe they figured Seamus’s guilty plea basically sealed their fate since the charges were interconnected. Maybe they’d had enough already of their deeds being splayed across international news outlets daily. Maybe they needed to focus on gaining some trust and respect inside the prison, and pleading guilty helped with that. Maybe they actually cared about their relatives on the outside trying to have lives now. Who knew?
Branden and Sean were the last to cave, pleading guilty Friday afternoon to obstruction of justice and illegal discharge of a firearm. They should have been the first to take a plea deal since they’d been charged with attempted murder in connection with the car shooting. They wouldn’t spend their entire lives in jail, but it was a far cry from the Ivy League hockey path they’d envisioned for themselves.
I watched Bodhi spin Ruby around and bury his sweaty face in her neck while she giggled. They’d become increasingly public with their relationship these past few weeks. I knew that he’d taken her to the shooting range, and installed some extra security measures at her apartment on campus and in her car, but the threat wasn’t enough to keep them apart. It was still there, even as it became clear the Malones had little to no power in these parts. If Neil heard about them and wanted to go after her, he’d have to go through a number of people behind bars to make that happen. The chances of him succeeding were minimal. The chances of him succeeding without Moody or Dad being alerted? Nearly impossible.
As it became clear just how much power we had and that the Malones were truly ruined, we stopped looking over our shoulders at every turn.
Cruz took my hand, pulling me away from watching the guys celebrate their win and asking for my attention. I was happy to give it to him. He tugged me close and in front of my dad, grandparents and aunt and uncle, smashed his lips to mine. Cruz tasted perfect. Like a guy who’d fought with blood, sweat, and yes, even tears. He’d been a boy thriving as the underdog, e
mbracing the battle to the top, and it hadn’t been easy once he’d discovered he’d landed right at the pinnacle, with nowhere else to go. But Cruz had done what he had to and looked around him, inside him, and now he was clawing his way out of those internal fears, the enemies we couldn’t see but which were just as worthy opponents.
A body slammed into us, shaking us apart. “Is it party time or what?” Spike hollered, high on adrenaline.
A second later, Moody jumped on Cruz’s back and he went stumbling backward. Already losing my balance from the initial attack, I went with him, falling on top of his body.
“Is this a hug fest?” I heard Emmett calling, and then feet running our way. “I’m in!” A body jumped on my back and squeezed me around the middle.
“Get your brother off her, Bodhi,” Ruby scolded. I felt Emmett getting pulled back but when I twisted to see what was up, I realized Bodhi was just making room for himself and Ruby. We were a pile of limbs, entangled on the freezing ground, the smell of dirty cleats and sweaty bodies overwhelming me.
I glanced back at Cruz, who had all my body weight plastered against his. He was half on top of Spike, the other half on Moody. And he was grinning.
This was exactly the kind of mess I’d been hoping to find. The kind I never wanted to clean up or get out of. “This is my kind of chaos,” I told Cruz.
“Yeah? Good, because you’re stuck with us.”
“For life?”
He nodded.
I smiled. “Let’s seal that promise with a kiss, huh?”
“Gross, not here! That’s like, orgy territory!” Spike protested, trying to wiggle out of his spot and reminding me we weren’t having a private moment.
Moody’s voice came out muffled from under someone’s arm. “I thought of all of us you’d be into that kind of thing, Spike.”
“Not in the middle of the largest stadium in the state, dude, come on, I have some dignity.”
We managed to untangle ourselves and get to our feet, only to find the field was even more packed with people now. They must have taken my lead with the rule breaking. Fair enough. Everyone wanted a piece of the superstars.
“Go on, sign tee shirts and take selfies with your fans,” I joked. Then, I realized signing shit might actually become a thing once we hit college. Oh man.
Ruby threw an arm around me. “We’ll wait here. Go see the people. We’ll party after.”
“Then alone time at the Spot?” Bodhi asked.
“With all of us,” Emmett clarified, giving Bodhi a look.
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. That’s what it’s for, right?”
The guys went over to high-five friends from school, let people pat them on the back. The Spot had become even more of a refuge from the constant attention at this point. It was a hiding spot, but not so much to protect us from danger as so we could have each other to ourselves.
Dad came over to say goodbye, explaining Pops and Mimi were ready to crash. “We’ll see you all tomorrow for Sunday dinner.” Jake and Mitch sometimes came too, depending on how things were going with Jake.
He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, sweetie. Don’t get into too much trouble tonight.”
“Oh, we won’t,” Ruby piped up beside me. “Well, Hazel might, but the rest of us don’t give in to her peer pressure.”
“Thanks, Ruby.”
I wasn’t that bad, but these parties got dull without some skinny dipping in freezing lakes, impromptu water gun fights, or forcing the guys into dance-offs.
“I’m glad you went to that party for Cruz’s birthday, Hazel,” Dad admitted with a reluctant smile.
“Yeah Dad, me too.”
THE END!
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Books by Ali Dean
Pepper Jones Series
Pepped Up (Pepper Jones #1)
All Pepped Up (Pepper Jones #2)
Pepped Up & Ready (Pepper Jones #3)
Pep Talks (Pepper Jones #4)
Pepped Up Forever (Pepper Jones #5)
Pepped Up & Wilder (Pepper Jones #6)
Pepper Series Standalone Spinoff
Chasing Indigo
Stark Springs Academy Series
Black Diamond
Double Black
Black Ice
Spark Sisters Series
The Line Below
Kick
Defiance Falls Series
Defiance Falls
Defiance Falls Revolution
Defiance Falls War
Standalones
Elusive
Doubles Love
Sneak Peek
Have you met Pepper Jones? Here’s a sneak peek into the first chapter of the first book in the series, Pepped Up. (No cliffhangers in this series.)
Pepped Up
This right here is what I live for. The steady rhythm of my feet landing softly on dirt. Colorado sunshine heating the fresh morning air. Birds singing as they swoop in and out of trees. And Dave frolicking beside me with his tongue lolling out to the side.
I want to capture the exhilaration and peace flowing through my veins, pulsing through my soul. Who needs a vice when you can attain an utter sense of being alive with such simple ingredients? Blue sky, fresh air, and, of course, man’s best friend. Dave’s feeling it, too - runner’s high. Endorphin rush. Call it what you will.
We turn off the single track and cross the footbridge separating the foothills from Brockton’s residential neighborhoods. I could easily run for another hour or two, but my training schedule calls for a forty-five-minute easy jog, and I’m already pushing an hour.
I used to think that being a disciplined athlete was all about pushing hard. But I was wrong. It’s really about knowing when to hold back, being patient enough to do it, and then pushing hard when the time comes.
I got into running on my first day of high school, almost by accident. Having never played sports when I was younger, I was pretty clueless about how they worked, but it turned out I was fast – really fast – and immediately made varsity and even qualified for the State meet. But since I had no idea of strategy, starting every run with a full-on sprint was all I knew to do, so “crash and burn” became my motto for the first few races.
I now have two cross country seasons and two track seasons under my belt, and I’ve learned how to pace myself at races and in workouts. But this season presents a new challenge. I need to pace myself over the course of the whole season. Not just for twenty minutes or so, but for three and a half months, or fourteen weeks.
I’m usually beat, mentally and physically, after the State meet, but if all goes well, I’ll be racing for a month longer than past seasons. First I have to qualify for Regionals at the State meet, and then I have to qualify for Nationals at Regionals. Until then, I’ve got to hold back. Easier said than done.
I wind through the familiar streets, my empty stomach coming to attention when the smell of bacon from someone’s kitchen floats by. When I turn onto Shadow Lane, slowing to a walk for my cool-down, I see a silver Mercedes Benz pulling up in front of the Wilders’ house. I narrow my eyes at it, watching Jace Wilder get out from the passenger side. His biceps flex as he holds the top of the door to lean in the open window and say something to the driver. Reaching in the car window, he retrieves a box of donuts before walking towards his house.
The car drives away from the Wilders’ house in my direction and slows as it passes me on the sidewalk. I recognize Madeline Brescoll when
she rolls down her window. “Hi, Pepper.” Her voice is filled with self-satisfaction. Through the window, I can see she looks gorgeous as usual.
I raise my hand in an unenthusiastic wave. “Morning.”
She flashes me an insincere smile, turns up the radio and drives away. I glance down at Dave, who’s licking sweat off my shin. He’s unimpressed. He might be the first male of any species to snub her like that.
Dave’s a multi-colored, short-haired mutt I adopted pretty much by accident last year – I simply wasn’t capable of ignoring the “free puppies” sign. Clearly, despite his lack of pedigree, he’s far too good for the Madeline Brescolls of this world.
Madeline’s family owns one of the largest breweries in the nation. She goes to Lincoln Academy, the private school in town. And along with the rest of the female population in Brockton, she wants Jace Wilder.
Admittedly, Madeline has actually succeeded to some degree in her efforts to get him. Jace sleeps with her more regularly than any other girl and, according to the gossip, she’s the only girl he’s been with in his grade. Apparently Jace only hooks up with older girls these days; I imagine that will change now that he’s a senior, unless he moves on to college girls.
I shake off my thoughts as I stretch my hamstrings. I’m determined not to let boys, or one boy in particular, ruin the buzz from my morning run. High school drama isn’t something I’ve let invade my life in the past two years, and junior year won’t be any different.
It doesn’t matter to me who our class officers are, or who won Homecoming Queen - my life revolves around running, and all my friends are runners except for Jace. It’s the one thing I have where I can stand out. I’m not an amazing student. I’m not popular. I’m not in band, on debate team, or dating anyone, let alone the starting quarterback (that would be Jace, by the way). Running is my thing. And this season is going to be epic.