By: H.J. Bellus

Tuck was never an option, rather a force I had to face, and against all odds we’ve made it. He finished his senior year, winning a national championship with me and my parents, and of course, his family by his side. I never missed a college game. The day he refused to enter the NFL draft was more heartbreaking for me than for him. He wanted nothing to do with it, even though he was expected to be drafted in the first round.

Tuck wanted to buy a home, open his accounting business, marry me, and knock me up. He made that statement every single time I brought up the conversation. He’s still bullheaded as fuck and an asshole, but he’s all mine.

I rise to my feet and hug my mom as she and Will make it up to the top row of the bleachers.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, baby Blue, I love you.”

“Look what grandma bought me.” I feel a light tug on the end of my shirt. When I look down, I see Will smiling brightly back at me with a large bag of blue cotton candy.

“Of course she did.” I roll my eyes in my mother’s direction.

She shrugs. “I brought wet wipes.”

The Friday night lights flip on, bringing the football field to life, and I see my very sexy husband lead his team out on the field. He’s dressed in a short sleeve team t-shirt, with sexy gym pants, and a backward ball cap. He’s followed by the star quarterback and his biggest fan, Ruger. We moved back to his hometown after my father passed and made our home. My mom is our next door neighbor, with Joe on the other side, so yes, I’ve become the pro at not screaming out in pleasure as Tuck works his magic on my lady bits.

I refuse to sit by Joe at games because of her hot head, screaming, and well, she’s just downright embarrassing, and typically ends up pacing the sidelines. I know one day she and Tuck will break out into a wrestling match behind the bench.

Even through all of our trials and errors—or as my mother likes to refer to them, our growing pains—I’m still proudest in the moments when Tuck is Tuck. He rips his shirt off to wrestle Will and answers every question the little toddler asks him. Sometimes the scene is so heartbreaking for me that I leave the room, but Will will always know who his dad is. Then there are times I’ll catch him coming from practice in a tank top or wearing a super tight tee like tonight. In moments likes these he’s Tuck, exposed and completely whole.

“Daddy,” Will begins squealing. “Daddy.”

I know Tuck doesn’t hear him, but always scans the crowd for his little man and waves up to him like an idiot. Ruger always follows suit, making Will feel like the hometown hero. I stand and wave back, rubbing my swollen belly and praying like hell for a little girl. I’d never be anything without Tuck and his endless love. He cursed me the day I saw him and never relented. He’s my curse and my warrior…my happily ever after.


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