The Wrong Play: A Football Romance (The Wrong Player Series Book 2)
The Wrong Play: Chapter 35

Riley was in full panic mode.

I leaned against the counter in our kitchen, sipping my coffee, watching her tear through her bag like a woman possessed. Her hair was slightly messy from sleep, her face adorably scrunched in frustration as she yanked things out and tossed them onto the table.

“Where the hell is it?” she muttered, rifling through her wallet, her keys clattering onto the floor in the process.

“What’s missing, Riley-girl?” I asked, my voice laced with the perfect amount of casual curiosity.

She huffed out a breath, blowing a strand of hair from her face. “My campus ID! I had it yesterday when I swiped in for lunch, and now it’s just…gone.”

I hummed like I was deep in thought. “You sure you didn’t leave it in the bathroom? Or maybe the dining hall?”

“No! I already checked the bathroom, and I know I didn’t leave it in the dining hall because I remember having it when I got back last night.” She turned, eyes narrowing. “Have you seen it?”

I took another sip of coffee, tilting my head as if I were giving the matter serious contemplation. “Can’t say that I have.”

I absolutely had. It was sitting safely in a hidden box next to a few other things of hers I’d collected, but she didn’t need to know that.

“This is such a pain,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “I need that ID for everything—food, getting into the library, printing stuff. I guess I’ll have to go to the campus office and get a new one.”

I pushed off the counter, setting my coffee down. “Tell you what, I’ll drive you.”

She frowned at me. “Why?”

I shrugged. “Because I’m a good boyfriend who enjoys spending time with his girl?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously but didn’t argue. “Fine. Let me grab my stuff.”

I smirked as she turned away. Too easy.

Fifteen minutes later, we were at the student ID office. I leaned against the counter while Riley explained her situation to the girl behind the desk, tapping my fingers idly against the surface as I watched.

“Name?” the student worker asked.

“Riley St. James,” she said automatically.

The girl typed a few things, then nodded. “Got it. You’ll just need to pay the replacement fee, and I’ll print it out.”

I handed over my card before Riley could protest. She shot me a look, but I just smiled innocently, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into my side. “Boyfriend duties.”

She sighed but let me get away with it.

The girl behind the desk hit a few more buttons, then stood and walked over to the machine to print the card. A few seconds later, she returned and handed it to Riley. “Here you go!”

Riley barely looked at it before stuffing it into her pocket. “Thank you so much.”

I almost laughed. Babycakes, you’re in for a surprise.

Later that night, I was lying on the bed, flipping through my phone when I heard the sudden rustling of her bag in the other room.

Then silence.

Then, “JACE!”

I bit back my grin, sitting up just as she stormed into our room, her ID held in a death grip between her fingers. “What the hell is this?!”

I blinked innocently. “An ID card?”

She smacked my arm with it. “Why does it say Riley Thatcher?!”

I sat up, stretching lazily. “Oh, that’s weird. You sure you didn’t request a name change?”

She gaped at me, looking personally offended. “You know damn well I didn’t.”

I finally let the smirk spread across my face. “Huh. Must’ve been some administrative mix-up.”

She wasn’t buying it.

Her jaw clenched, and she pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You did this! I don’t know how, but you did.”

I just shrugged, unconcerned. “Well, technically, I just nudged the system a little.”

She let out a strangled sound. “Jace, this is serious! I can’t have the wrong name on my official ID! What if I need it for something important? What if I get in trouble?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice, letting the possessiveness drip into my tone. “Relax, babycakes. It’s just one less thing I’ll have to change once we’re married.”

Her eyes went huge. “You’re insane.”

I grinned. “And you’re officially one step closer to being Mrs. Thatcher.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then just gawked at me in sheer disbelief as I slid off the bed. Riley was still clutching the ID like it had personally wronged her. Her face was a mix of disbelief, outrage, and something else—something she was trying really hard to fight.

I knew that look. It was the same one she got every time I did something completely unhinged, yet somehow, she still loved me for it.

Her lips parted, probably to tell me just how out of my mind I was, but I didn’t give her the chance. Instead, I reached into the nightstand, grabbed the tiny velvet box I’d stashed there weeks ago, and flicked it open with one hand.

Riley froze.

Every ounce of frustration, every lingering hint of her planned verbal assault, vanished in an instant. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like she was trying to form words but had forgotten how.

I smirked. “You good there, Riley-girl?”

She blinked hard. “Jace,” she whispered, her voice uneven.

“Yeah, baby?”

Her gaze flicked between my face and the ring—the one I’d picked out for her without hesitation because the second I saw it, I knew. A delicate band, a stunning diamond in the center, and smaller stones woven into the sides like a crown. A queen’s ring for my queen.

“Is this…” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, trying again. “Are you…”

“Oh, this isn’t a proposal,” I said easily. “It’s an inevitability.”

Her breath hitched.

I stepped closer, my fingers skimming up her arm, feeling the way she trembled slightly under my touch. “You were always going to be mine, Riley. This just makes it official.”

She shook her head, but it wasn’t in denial. More like she was trying to catch up, trying to grasp the weight of what was happening. “You—you can’t just⁠—”

“I can,” I interrupted smoothly. “And I did.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no words came. Just ragged, uneven breaths, the weight of it all pressing down on her. I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides like she was debating whether to hold on or let go.

Like she still thought she had to make a choice.

But, duh, I wasn’t letting her choose wrong.

I reached out, tracing my fingertips over her wrist, feeling her pulse thrumming wildly beneath my touch. “You think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours?” My voice was low…steady. “You think I don’t know that you still wake up sometimes and wonder if this is real? If you really get to have this? If you really get to be loved like this?”

Her lashes fluttered, and I saw the war waging in her, felt it in the way she shook, in the way her breath hitched like I’d pulled something straight out of her chest and held it up to the light.

“I see you, Riley,” I murmured, stepping closer, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at me. “I see the girl who fights so hard to believe she deserves happiness. Who spent too long being told she wasn’t allowed to want more, to dream of more. Who learned how to survive before she ever learned how to just be.” My thumb brushed against her jaw, soft and reverent. “But you don’t have to survive me. You just have to love me.”

Her eyes burned, wide and glassy, filled with too many emotions to name. She shook her head again, but this time, I saw it for what it was…one last desperate grasp at an excuse. At some invisible force trying to pull her back into the doubt she had lived in for too long.

I wasn’t letting it win.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” I whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want forever.”

A sharp inhale. A tremor in her fingers. But still, no words.

I stepped even closer, my forehead pressing against hers, my voice barely a breath. “Tell me you don’t want my last name.”

She made a broken sound, something between a gasp and a sob, her hands fisting in my shirt like I was the only thing holding her up. I felt the way her body trembled against mine, the way she was already sinking into me, already surrendering.

I kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her jaw. “Tell me, Riley.”

Silence.

Then, finally—soft, so soft I almost didn’t hear it⁠—

“I can’t.”

I exhaled, my chest easing for the first time since I’d slid that ring into her palm. “That’s all I needed to hear, baby.” I pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, my lips curving in a slow, knowing smirk. “Now, let’s get that ring on.”

Her breath hitched, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers curled even tighter around the velvet box like it was already hers. Like she knew it was inevitable. Like she had never really stood a chance.

Because she hadn’t.

She was already mine.

She always would be.

And now?

Now, the world would know it too.

She swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re insane,” she repeated once more.

I nodded. “And you love me for it.”

She exhaled a laugh, choked and breathless.

I reached for her hand, prying the ID from her fingers, flipping it over in my palm. Riley Thatcher. My girl. My future.

Leaning in, my lips brushed against her ear, my voice low and sure. “Welcome to forever, baby.”

I pushed a stray piece of hair from her face, watching the way her lips parted, how her eyes were still wide and dazed from everything that had just happened. “Now, how do you feel about getting married in Vatican City?”

She blinked, still gripping the ring box like she wasn’t entirely sure this was real. “That’s…random.”

Then, like a light flickering on, amusement sparked in her gaze, her lips twitching as she tilted her head. “Wait a second. Isn’t that one of the only places where marriage contracts are binding…forever?”

I winked. “You catch on quick, Mrs. Thatcher.”

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, but there was no fight in it, no hesitation—just that quiet, reluctant acceptance she always had when she realized I’d already made up my mind about something.

And I had.

This wasn’t just some impulsive, heat-of-the-moment decision. I’d known since the second I met her that Riley St. James was going to be mine. And now, holding her close, watching the way she swallowed hard like she was still trying to process it all, I could feel it—how much she wanted this, too, how much she wanted me, even if she wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Yet.

I leaned in, my hands skimming down her back, pressing her flush against me. “Say yes, Riley-girl,” I murmured, my lips brushing against hers, coaxing, teasing. “You know you want to.”

Her forehead dropped to mine, her breath warm, her body soft and pliant in my arms. “Jace,” she whispered, like she was still trying to figure me out, still trying to convince herself this was happening.

I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me, making sure she saw everything I wasn’t saying out loud. “I love you, Riley,” I said, my voice rough, full of certainty. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and I felt it then—the last of her resistance shattering.

I smirked. “Now, are we getting married in Vatican City or what?”

RILEY

I stared at him, at the boy who had spent every second since I met him making himself impossible to leave. Jace Thatcher, with his easy smirks and relentless determination, his infuriating confidence and unshakable certainty. The boy who had gotten under my skin so fast, so thoroughly, that I never even had a chance to stop him.

And now, here he was, standing in front of me, his hands on my waist, his eyes locked onto mine like I was the only thing that had ever made sense to him.

Like he was willing to bet his entire future on me.

A marriage proposal shouldn’t have felt inevitable when you were this young. It shouldn’t have felt like the next logical step in a series of moments I had already surrendered to. But Jace wasn’t normal. He wasn’t predictable. And when it came to him, I couldn’t resist.

For so long, I had been convinced I wasn’t meant for this kind of love. The kind that was all-consuming, the kind that rooted deep and refused to be torn away. I had spent years feeling unworthy, like I was something temporary, like love was something I could borrow but never keep.

I’d grown up being treated like my illness made me less. Like my body’s failures meant I wasn’t meant for forever, that I was only good enough to be someone’s dirty secret.

But Jace never looked at me like I was fragile. He never hesitated. Never treated me like something that wasn’t worthy of adoration…or showing off.

He fought for me like I was worth everything. And now, he wasn’t just fighting.

He was asking me to stay.

It was a stark contrast—Jace, standing in front of me, fierce and unwavering, like I was something to be protected, something to be fought for. And Callum.

Callum, who had only ever fought to keep me small. Hidden. His dirty little secret.

I thought about the reports that had come out after his arrest, the students from Chapel Hill who had stepped forward with their own stories. Girls who had once stood in my shoes, who had believed his lies, who had felt just as powerless in his grasp. He hadn’t just done this to me. He had been doing it for years. The weight of that made my stomach churn.

I forced myself to meet Jace’s gaze, the raw intensity in his brown eyes grounding me. Callum had spent years convincing me that I wasn’t enough—that I was weak, that I was lucky he even wanted me. But Jace? He made me feel like I was everything.

My chest ached as I reached up, tracing my fingers along the edge of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath my touch. He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, just let me look at him, let me absorb the weight of what he was offering.

Forever.

With him.

The world was so loud—always pulling, always demanding—but in that moment, it was just us. Just Jace, waiting for me to say the words that would make this real.

“Are you sure this isn’t the wrong play, Thatcher?” I asked, a smile spreading across my lips.

He huffed. “Do I ever make the wrong play?”

My smile widened, joy bubbling up inside me.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His lips twitched. “What was that?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded. “Yes.”

Jace exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around me, like he’d been holding his breath. And then he was kissing me, like he was sealing a deal that had already been made long before either of us admitted it.

I let him.

I kissed him back like I had nowhere else to be, like I had finally figured out the truth that had been clawing at my ribs since the moment he walked into my life.

Jace Thatcher wasn’t a wrong turn.

He wasn’t a mistake.

He wasn’t some reckless impulse I would regret.

He was the safest place I had ever known.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of staying.

I pulled back, just enough to see the way his brown eyes burned with triumph. “You’re feeling pretty smug about this, aren’t you?” I murmured.

His lips curled. “Oh, absolutely.”

I huffed a laugh, rolling my eyes. “And what if I had said no?”

Jace gave me a look, all dark amusement and pure, unshakable arrogance. “Now that would’ve been the wrong play, babycakes. And with you, I don’t do it wrong. I play to win.”