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With Bailey, it’s like I’ve skipped the starting point and gone straight to addition, which was last. No, wait—was itsubtraction? Either way, I’ve jacked up the order of operations. And I’m not sure how to undo it.
“Forget something, lover boy?”
As we enter the locker room, Van presses an object to my chest with the force of a punch, his grin wide.
It’s the ring box.
The one I never removed from the puck. Never gave to Bailey.
Because I actually never got around to asking her to marry me.
Worst. Proposal.Ever.
Van must take in the shift in my face, which probably looks something like a seven-year-old sugar-crashing hard twenty-minutes after chasing a candy bar with a soda. He gives my shoulder a squeeze meant to be comforting but is actually painful and says, “No worries, man.”
“If she says yes without looking at the ring, it’s for real,” Dumbo adds.
Van and I exchange a look. That’s what it mightnormallymean. But in our case … it does not.
Only the guys at Felix’s the other night have any idea what’s really going on. I didn’t fill them in on how we got from point A to point proposal less than a week later, but I’m assuming they connected the dots. I think the rest of the team shares Malik’s belief that I was already seeing someone and just kept it quiet. Until it got very, very loud.
“A ring is sort of important in the typical engagement process,” Alec says, grinning.
Like anything about this istypical. Still. I’m glad for his comment, which is soveryAlec. It allows me to unclench the fists I didn’t know I was making, one hand gripping the ring box.
“Must have been some kiss if it made you forget the ring.”
Van smirks. I shove him. And we’re all back to normal.
I tuck the ring into my bag and strip off my shirt, dropping onto a bench so I can fully gear down. I’m eager to get showered and get back to Bailey. I’m hoping she stayed with Mom and will be waiting in the family room. We didn’t talk through all those details, and now I’m wishing we had so I’m not left disappointed if she goes home.
After the way I overwhelmed her with everything … she just might go.
“So, dude—did she say yes?” Tucker asks.
I fumble with the laces on my skates before recovering, untying them so fast I practically give myself rope burns. “What?”
“Didn’t you see the kiss?” Dumbo says. “Looked like a yes to me.”
“Heplayedlike she said yes. You could have saved a few goals for the rest of us, man.” Van tosses a sock my way.
“You should’ve tried harder.”
Without thinking, I use two fingers to pick up the sock, which is damp and came directly from his foot—disgusting!—and toss it toward the locker room’s laundry bin. It misses. But Van can take care of his stupid sweaty sock. I probably shouldn’t have even touched it. Now I need to soak my hand in antibacterial gel.
Passing by on his way to the showers, Logan gives me a nod and says, “I thought it was great. Took some mental notes.”
Parker will be thrilled about that.
I’m grateful for Wyatt’s vow of violence suggestion because every guy who was at Felix’s seems to be acting as my own personal defensemen. One of them runs interference, changing the subject when the other guys ask questions about Bailey or make cracks about how fast I’m moving. It’s like I’ve got myown personal force field, made up of a bunch of sweaty guys in various states of undress.
A guy could get used to this.
I’ve never showered so thoroughly, so quickly in my life. I ignore the slaps on the back and congratulations—as well as the snide remarks about the old ball and chain that have me wanting to kick the patriarchy right out of a few people—and practically sprint down the hallway. Droplets of water trail down the ends of my hair to the neck, making me shiver as I push open the door.
Faces in the room turn expectantly toward me, but there’s only one person I see.
Bailey. She’s still here. Forme.
