🔥 Five Years Later 🔥

An Exclusive Bonus Scene from The Blindside

Thank You for Reading! 💙

You made it to the bonus content—which means you’ve experienced Declan and Rory’s journey from best friends to fake boyfriends to forever. Thank you for giving their story a chance. This exclusive scene is our gift to dedicated readers like you.

It’s set five years after the wedding, seven years after the lie that started everything. Their daughter Maeve is asleep down the hall. The Seattle skyline glitters through the windows. And Rory is about to remind Declan exactly why those six years of waiting were worth it…

Five Years Later

The anniversary of the lie that started everything…

The house was finally quiet.

Declan stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching the slow rise and fall of Maeve’s chest in her crib. Their daughter—their daughter, and even after eighteen months the words still made something crack open in his chest—had finally surrendered to sleep after a two-hour battle that had involved three stories, two lullabies, and one very patient father who’d walked the hallway until his legs ached.

Worth it. Every single second.

He eased the door closed with the practiced silence of a man who’d learned that the creak of old hinges was the enemy, and padded down the hall toward the master bedroom. The Seattle skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the same view he’d stared at for years—but everything about this house was different now. The minimalist emptiness that had once defined his space had been replaced by chaos. Toys in the living room. Family photos on every surface. A refrigerator covered in finger paintings and wedding invitations and a picture of Rory holding Maeve on the day she was born, both of them crying.

Home. It finally felt like home.

The bedroom door was ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. Declan pushed it open and stopped.

Rory was sprawled across their bed in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, the lamp casting golden shadows across the planes of his chest. His auburn hair was still damp from the shower, curling at the temples the way it always did, and he was scrolling through his phone with the lazy contentment of a man who knew exactly how good he looked.

Five years married. Seven years together. Thirteen years of wanting him.

The sight still knocked the air out of Declan’s lungs.

“She down?” Rory asked without looking up.

“Finally.” Declan leaned against the doorframe, drinking in the view. “Took the entire O’Connor lullaby collection and a detailed explanation of why the moon isn’t actually following her.”

Rory’s laugh was soft, fond. “She gets that from you. The stubborn refusal to accept simple answers.”

“She gets her charm from you. It’s why I can’t say no to her.”

“You can’t say no to either of us.” Rory finally looked up, and his eyes did that thing—that slow, heated sweep from Declan’s bare feet to his face that made Declan feel like the only person in the world. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a request.

Declan pushed off the doorframe and crossed to the bed, his heart already picking up pace. This—the casual command, the easy confidence Rory had grown into—still undid him.

Rory set his phone aside and sat up, reaching for Declan’s hips as soon as he was close enough. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Declan’s sweatpants, tugging gently.

“Hi,” Rory said, looking up at him with those ridiculous blue eyes.

“Hi yourself.”

“You know what today is?”

Declan’s brow furrowed. “Thursday?”

Rory’s smile turned wicked. “Seven years ago today, you told the entire sports media world that we’d been secretly dating for six months.”

The memory hit Declan like a check to the boards—the press conference, his heart hammering so hard he thought everyone could hear it, the words spilling out before he could stop them. He’s not a playboy. He’s been dating me.

“The lie that started everything,” Declan said quietly.

“The truth we didn’t know yet.” Rory’s hands slid up Declan’s sides, warm and sure. “I never thanked you properly for that. For being brave when I didn’t even know what I wanted.”

“You’ve thanked me plenty.”

“Not today I haven’t.” Rory pulled, and Declan let himself be drawn down onto the bed, let Rory roll him onto his back and settle over him like this was exactly where they both belonged. “Let me thank you properly.”

Declan’s breath caught as Rory’s weight pressed him into the mattress. “The baby—”

“Is asleep. The monitor is on. And I have been waiting—” Rory’s mouth found the spot below Declan’s ear that always made him shiver, “—all goddamn day—” teeth scraped along his jaw, “—to get my hands on you.”

Whatever protest Declan had been forming dissolved. His hands came up to grip Rory’s hips, pulling him closer, and the sound Rory made against his throat was everything.

“There he is,” Rory murmured. “My husband. God, I love saying that.”

“Five years and it still hasn’t gotten old?”

“Never.” Rory pulled back just enough to look at him, and the love in his expression was so naked, so unguarded, that Declan’s chest ached with it. “Fifty years from now, I’ll still be insufferable about it.”

Declan huffed a laugh that turned into a groan as Rory’s hips rolled against his. “Your teammates are going to stage an intervention.”

“Let them. I don’t care.” Rory’s mouth found his, finally, and the kiss was slow and deep and tasted like forever. “I spent six years not being able to call you mine. I’m making up for lost time.”

And God, that—the reminder of all those years of wanting and not having—it cracked something open in Declan’s chest every single time. He surged up into the kiss, one hand fisting in Rory’s damp hair, the other sliding down to grip his ass and pull him tighter.

“I love you,” Declan said, because he could. Because after thirteen years of swallowing the words, he never passed up an opportunity to say them now.

Rory’s expression softened, that particular tenderness that was just for Declan breaking through the heat. “I love you too. Now stop talking and take your pants off.”

Declan took his pants off.

What followed was slow and thorough in a way they rarely managed anymore—the luxury of time, of a sleeping baby and an empty house and nowhere else to be. Rory’s hands mapped every inch of Declan’s skin like he was memorizing him all over again. Declan’s mouth traced the lines of Rory’s body, cataloging the familiar landscape of muscle and bone that he knew better than his own.

“God,” Rory breathed as Declan’s mouth moved lower, his back arching off the bed. “Dec—”

“I’ve got you.” Declan pressed a kiss to his hip, then lower. “Let me take care of you.”

He took his time. Drew it out until Rory was shaking, fingers twisted in the sheets, gasping broken versions of Declan’s name. This—reducing Rory to incoherence, making him forget every smooth line and charming word—was a privilege Declan would never take for granted.

“Please,” Rory managed, tugging at Declan’s hair. “I need—I want—”

“Tell me.” Declan looked up, meeting those blown-blue eyes. “Use your words, O’Connor.”

“Inside me. Now. Please.”

Declan didn’t make him ask again.

The prep was gentle, careful—Declan always took his time with this part, no matter how desperate either of them got. Rory complained about it sometimes, called him a tease, but Declan saw the way his expression went soft and wondering every time. Like even after all these years, he couldn’t quite believe someone would handle him with this much care.

“Ready?” Declan asked, positioned and waiting, his control hanging by a thread.

“For you? Always.”

The first press of connection was—God, it was always like this. Like coming home and falling apart at the same time. Rory’s breath left him in a rush, his legs wrapping around Declan’s waist, pulling him deeper.

“Move,” Rory said, the word more plea than command.

Declan moved.

They found their rhythm quickly, years of practice making every shift and angle instinctive. Declan braced himself on one arm, his other hand cupping Rory’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

“Look at me,” Declan said. “Let me see you.”

Rory’s eyes opened, and the vulnerability there—the raw, unguarded love—was almost too much. Declan had spent six years building walls to protect himself from wanting this. Now he had no defenses left, and he didn’t want any.

“You’re so beautiful,” Declan said, rolling his hips in a way that made Rory’s breath catch. “Every single day, I look at you and I can’t believe you’re real.”

“Dec—” Rory’s voice cracked, his hands clutching at Declan’s shoulders.

“Seven years. And I still don’t have words for what you do to me.”

“Good thing you’re the strong silent type,” Rory gasped.

Declan huffed a laugh that turned into a groan. “Smart ass.”

“Your smart ass. Forever.”

“Forever,” Declan agreed, and kissed him again.

The end, when it came, rolled through both of them like a wave—Rory first, shaking apart in Declan’s arms with a cry he barely muffled, Declan following moments later with his face pressed to Rory’s shoulder and his husband’s name on his lips.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just lay tangled together, catching their breath, heartbeats gradually slowing to something like normal.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Rory announced finally.

“Good.”

“Smug bastard.”

“Your smug bastard. Forever.”

Rory’s laugh was soft, sated. “I really love that word when you say it.”

They cleaned up eventually, moving with the practiced efficiency of two people who knew a baby monitor could crackle to life at any moment. But when they finally settled back into bed—Rory tucked against Declan’s side, head on his chest—the world felt perfectly still.

“Thank you,” Rory said quietly. “For that press conference. For the lie that turned into the truth. For every single day since.”

Declan tightened his arm around him. “It was never a lie for me. You know that.”

“I know.” Rory lifted his head, meeting Declan’s eyes in the dim light. “But I get to spend the rest of my life making sure you know it was always true for me too. Even when I was too dense to see it.”

Before Declan could respond, a soft sound came through the baby monitor—not a cry, just a sleepy murmur as Maeve shifted in her crib.

They both froze, barely breathing, waiting.

Silence. Then the steady rhythm of baby breathing resumed.

“Crisis averted,” Rory whispered.

“For now.” Declan kissed the top of his head. “Sleep while you can.”

“Babe, you proposed to me on live television during the Stanley Cup finals. You are the definition of dramatic.”

Declan smiled against Rory’s hair. “You said yes.”

“I’d say yes again. Every time. Any time.” Rory’s voice was growing heavy with sleep, but his next words were perfectly clear. “You’re my forever, Declan Ashford. The best thing that ever happened to me.”

Declan held him tighter, watching the Seattle skyline glitter through the windows, listening to his husband’s breathing slow into sleep.

Seven years ago, he’d told a lie to save the man he loved.

Turns out, it was the most honest thing he’d ever done.

~ The End ~