I zip up my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder, rounding the wooden desk and locking the door to the office behind me, on my way out. The sound of medal clanking against medal echoes off the walls as players pack up for the day and head home.

"Great session today, Bronx," coach says, coming up behind me and clapping a strong hand over my shoulder, looking proud. There's only a few weeks left until the playoffs and everyone is working their asses off to win the championship.

"Thanks, coach."

Since freshman year, coach has been the closest thing I've had to a father figure. I was his star pupil all four years of my college career, and when we both found out I would never fully bounce back from my injuries and make it to the NFL like we both dreamed, he took me in under his wing, offering me a trainer position right after I graduated. Being a NCAA Division I team ranking within the top 3 for a number of years, the pay is decent, but Coach is trying his best to work me up to assistant coach where the starting pay will be almost six figures.

For now, to pay the bills while Olivia is in medical school, I work for the college as well as a high end gym downtown part time as a personal trainer. Both of our schedules are pretty hectic at the moment, me with preparing the team for the championships while Olivia's rounding out her fourth year of med school, but we always manage to fall asleep together every night and wake up to kiss the other one goodbye in the morning.

Thinking about her, I add a little more pep to my step as I head out to my truck in the parking lot, jumping in and driving home. Arriving at our apartment complex, I frown, not seeing her car in the parking lot, meaning she got stuck at clinicals late. Again.

I park in my designated spot and step inside the main floor lobby, veering towards the mailboxes. I slip the brass key into our mail slot, finding a few pieces of mail.

Junk. Advertisement. Junk. Junk. Bingo.

A smile spreads across my face, knowing exactly what's in the envelope addressed to me from the DMV.

Elated, I tuck the mail under my arm and slip into the elevator to ride up to the fourth floor. I unlock the front door of our apartment and hang my keys on the hook, setting the mail on the counter on my way to the bedroom. I put away my gym bag and strip for a quick shower, throwing on a T-shirt and some sweats after.

Padding to the kitchen, I open up the refrigerator to pull out some butter and cheese, grabbing the loaf of Texas toast on the counter on my way to the stove. I pull out a pot and a pan and throw them on the stove, ready to make Olivia's favorite meal—grilled cheese and tomato soup.

When I talked to her briefly on the phone earlier today, I could tell she was having a rough day. She's currently in her pediatrics rotation and I can tell it's taking a toll on her physically and emotionally. She's been spending so much overtime at the hospital lately, getting home late at least three nights out of the week, that she deserves a night of spoiling.

As soon as I'm done dumping the tomato soup into the pot and adding extra spices to it to give it more flavor, I hear the front door jiggle and push open. I look over my shoulder to see Olivia walk in and set her keys and purse by the door.

"Hi, baby," I greet her, flipping one of the grilled cheeses over in the pan before turning the heat down to give her my attention.

Her tired eyes look over at me, a fond smile gracing her lips. "Hi," she says, her voice soft and a bit raspy. She walks over to the kitchen in her navy scrubs and I turn away from the stove to kiss her. Glancing at the stove top, an adorable pout forms on her face. "Bronx, you didn't have to do this."

"Yes I did," I insist, brushing some of the tendrils of hair falling out of her bun and framing her face behind her ear. "We've hardly seen each other all week."

Her eyes grow soft. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" she says, appreciation clear in her voice.

I grin. "Once or twice," I tease, kissing her lips one more time before turning back towards the stove, making sure nothing is burning.

She wraps her arms around my middle from behind, resting her cheek against my back.

"How was your day?" I ask gently, already sensing it wasn't great.

She lets out a disheartening sigh, her arms tightening around my torso. "I don't want to talk about it," she says, voice muffled by my T-shirt.

I frown, placing my hand on top of both of hers that are resting on my stomach. "Why don't you go change and get comfortable. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

She lets out a hum of acknowledgement, kissing my back before unwinding her arms from around my waist and heading towards the bedroom.

By the time I'm finished plating the food and carrying it to the table, Olivia reemerges from the bedroom in her pajamas. She gives me another look of appreciation and adoration before we both sit down and dig in.

Olivia picks up the sandwich, taking a bite, the cheese pulling from the center. She lets out a soft moan, her eyes practically rolling to the back of her head as she savors the gooey, cheesy goodness. "Remind me again, have I told you how much I love you?" she says after she finishes her bite.

I chuckle, taking a large bite of my own sandwich, the perfectly toasted bread providing the slightest crunch. I chew and swallow before replying. "I love you too, baby."

"How was work?" she asks, adjusting in her chair to sit crisscrossed.

"Good," I say genuinely, the generic reply not leaving a bitter taste in my mouth anymore.

I'll admit, I was absolutely crushed when my NFL dreams went down the drain. All I ever pictured for myself was making it to the NFL and retiring after a long, successful career. It's what I thought I wanted—needed—to feel validation, but I realize I was all wrong. Looking at the girl sitting across from me, I'm not sure that's what I needed after all.

Picturing it now, I don't know how sufficient a NFL career would have been for our relationship. I have no doubt in my mind that she would be supportive and we'd make the part time long distance work, but now getting to fall asleep next to her every night is something I can't imagine giving up. Being miles away and not being able to hold her when she has a bad day, being away from her for certain holidays, I don't think I could do it. I never factored in finding the love of my life when calculating my original, seemingly inflexible, plans.

Before Olivia, I solely focused all my attention on football because I had nothing else worth my wild to focus on. Football had been such a big part of my life because it was my outlet. I only joined football as a kid because my mom wanted me to get out of the house, and I only became good at it because I felt like I had to take it seriously to grow stronger to ward off all her junky boyfriends.

Speaking of my mother, I haven't seen her since Florida. But that doesn't mean she's stopped trying to contact me—especially after my grandmother died. She passed about six months after I saw her and it turns out she did leave everything to me. Not that she had much, but my mother wants any penny she can get to feed her addiction.

And keeping on the topic of annoyances of my life, rat boy and Adrianna finally got what was coming to them. After their little stunt, they both ended up getting expelled. As suspected, rat boy squealed and provided text messages as evidence to drag Adrianna down with him.

On the complete opposite end of the annoyance spectrum, Delilah graduated with me and Olivia, the three of us throwing our caps up in the air side by side. But while Olivia and I stayed in Georgia, Delilah got accepted into a great medical school out on the west coast and is graduating around the same time as Olivia. The two girls talk at least once a week over face time. It used to be more but as they are both ending their fourth year it's been almost impossible to even squeeze in one face time with how busy they are.

"The team is doing great this year. You're still able to make it to the championship game if we make it, right?" I ask. I know her schedule is hectic and changing day by day, but she promised she'd be there.

She smiles. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

I give her a soft smile. "Thanks, baby. I know you're super busy with clinical rotations, so it means a lot. How were your kids today?" I ask, knowing she's grown attached to some of the kids at the hospital, having her favorites.

Her smile depletes. "Carter isn't doing so well," she admits softly, sadly.

Carter is a cute little blond headed boy who's managed to capture her heart. The five year old has been having some trouble with one of his heart valves and doctors are trying their best to get him better. I know Olivia feels a connection there and it's crushing her to see the kid get sicker and sicker.

Olivia continues to talk about Carter and his declining health, as well as other things that happened at the hospital today. Now I understand why she wasn't having the greatest of days. I do my best to try to comfort her.

"Anyway," she sighs, exhausted, seemingly mentally shaking off the bad day and putting on a smile for me. "How was your day?"

"Good," I admit enthusiastically. "Really good, actually." I hope my good news also puts her in a good mood.

She gives me a strange but amused look at my sudden giddy behavior.

Excited, I hop up from the table and grab the piece of mail addressed to me on the counter and bring it over to the table. "I got something in the mail today," I state, sliding the envelope across the table to her.

She picks it up, her eyes immediately landing on the words Department of Motor Vehicles. "What's this?" she asks, frowning. Then her eyes scan who the envelope is addressed to. "Bronx!" she scolds, her eyes wide. "You can't just give the DMV my nickname!"

I bite back a laugh, knowing her brain must be going haywire right now reading Bronx Finch, thinking I did something to mess everything up and the DMV really screwed up big time by letting it slide. But that's not the case at all.

A couple of months ago, I started the process of legally changing my last name. Miller has always seemed so extraneous to me, like it didn't fit. It's my mother's last name, because she has no clue who my father is—not that I pin him to be a standup guy, given her track record with men. I've been stuck with Miller for a long time and I'm tired of it leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I want something different, for my last name to mean something. So what better than Finch?

I laugh, unable to suppress it any longer. "No, baby. It's my name."

She looks at me, more confused than before, and I can't help but smile.

"I changed my last name," I explain.

"You what?" she breathes in disbelief, looking at me as if I'm playing some kind of weird prank on her.

My grin deepens. "Open it," I instruct, nodding towards the envelope.

Slowly, almost cautiously, she peels open the envelope and plucks out my new driver's license, gawking at it.

A dozen emotions scroll across her face staring at it, and I lean over the table, taking the plastic card from her and setting it off to the side. I lace our fingers together before speaking. "Don't be mad," I say, suddenly feeling nervous.

I remember when I came home with a tattoo of a finch. I had the little bird permanently perched on top of the last N in the UNKNOWN tattoo splayed across my back, making the word less significant by proclaiming my love for the girl that changed my life and helped erase the meaning of that tattoo. But I'd be lying if I said that Olivia didn't have a mild freak out over it, claiming tattoos are an automatic curse for disaster in relationships. It's come to have grown on her though, thank God, and after the freak out stage she found it sweet.

"Why would you change your name?" she asks softly, her head adorably tilting to the side, like it normally does when she's confused.

I shrug, playing with her fingers. "I want a last name that means something. I've wanted to change it for a while now, but I never knew what to change it to," I admit softly, glancing up to catch her staring at me with understanding. "I know finches are sort of our thing, and they represent joy and better days ahead... and that's what I want," I explain. "A fresh start." Without the weight of my last name—which is connected to my mother and the person I use to be—dragging me down.

She gives me an thoughtful smile, her eyes glossy as she stands up from her chair and rounds the table to take a seat on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. I gladly accept her, holding her tight and kissing her lips.

"I love it," she whispers against my mouth, approving my new, legal last name.

"Good," I whisper back. Because it's going to be her last name too one day.

We finish dinner and begin to clean up.

"Let me get it," I insist, taking her plate from her hands with a kiss. "Go relax. Maybe run a bath and I'll meet you in a bit."

She gives me another soft and appreciative smile before retreating to the bedroom. I clean up everything as fast as I can to meet her in our attached bathroom, finding her standing in the middle of it in her robe, staring down at her phone, probably checking emails.

I sneak up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "None of that," I lightly scold, kissing the side of her head and taking her phone from her hands, setting it on the counter.

She spins around in my arms, a guilty, sheepish little smile adorning her face, telling me she was, in fact, reading hospital emails.

The tub is full of warm water, a generous amount of bubbles on the surface as a few scented candles litter the counter. I reach between our bodies to toy with the silk tie of her robe.

"I think this is the part where we strip," I whisper lowly, huskily.

A small blush rushes to her cheeks. After all these years, I find it adorable that I still have this kind of effect on her. Shyly, she reaches for the hem of my shirt, her fingers slipping up and under the fabric, touching my naked skin. My eyes flutter shut as I let out a groan, loving the feeling of her hands on me.

Impatient, I reach behind me to grab the collar, pulling my shirt up and off. I tug at the tie of her robe and it comes undone, the fabric now limply hanging on her body. Gently, I push the silk off her shoulders, peppering the newly exposed skin with kisses. She sighs in content and reaches for the waistband of my sweats.

When all our clothes are discarded on the floor, I grab her face, kissing her softly before dipping my head further and kissing just between her collar bones, pressing my lips to the tip of the light pink scar running down the center of her chest.

I hold out my hand and help her step into the tub first, watching her sink down into the bubbles of warm water. Once she's settled, I slip in the tub behind her, pulling her back against my chest. She relaxes, her body melting against mine. Her eyes flutter closed as she tilts her head back onto my shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

My lips find her neck as my hands massage her sides. She giggles and I think I've accidentally hit one of her ticklish spots.

She laughs quietly again and I pull back to see a large smile on her face. "I can't believe you changed your last name to Finch," she says, more so to herself, giggling happily.

I smile into her shoulder, my eyes drifting to look through the doorframe of the bathroom and into our bedroom. My eyes land on the bottom left drawer of the dresser and my stomach flutters. There, at the very bottom of the drawer, deep inside the pocket of a random pair of pants, is a ring. After Olivia is done with med school and things start to slow down a little, I plan on proposing.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have her in mind when picking out the last name. Not only is it her nickname but I think it represents us well; just two finches who found each other and became one, sticking close to the other finches around us. Our family. I did some light research and found out that finches symbolize diversity, happiness, vulnerability, and family among other things, and I think it's perfect.

"Believe it, baby." I grin.

"Bronx Finch." She pauses, mulling over the name, testing it out. "I like it," she declares, smiling.

"I'm glad you approve," I tease. Because it's going to become her last name soon, too.

And they lived happily ever after as Mr. and Mrs. Finch!

After nearly 107,000+ words, The Scars of Anatomy is officially over. Thank you guys so much for reading this story and for all the support and love along the way. I hope you enjoyed Bronx and Olivia's story and all the crazy twists and turns and plot twists along the way. Its so hard to give them up but I'm glad they get their happy ending.

As far as whats next, I already have my next work in progress Person of Interest published and it would mean the world to me if you checked it out and added it to your reading list! It's going to be a little while before I post the first chapter since there are a few little plot points I still have to iron out, but if you loved Bronx and Olivia I think you'll like Travis and Aspen!

You guys are the best and I can't wait to hopefully see you for my next story! In the mean time, be sure to follow me on Instagram for updates and sneak peeks! (I would say to follow me on Twitter but I can't even remember the last time I used it. lol)

As always, much love,

Nicole