Chapter 44
Decker
“That’s the way it’s done, boys!” Coach McDaniels hollers as we circle up.
The energy in the locker room is palpable. We’re a mass of adrenaline and infinite possibility, celebrating a big win over an excellent team on their home turf.
While the guys grin and bounce and pat each other on the back, still riding the high, my mind is far too absent to feel any of it.
I locked it in for the game. After last week’s dismal display of distraction, I couldn’t afford not to. But now that we’ve clinched the win, all I can think about is getting home.
Getting home and being with her.
We’re stuck in Texas for one more night, and our flight doesn’t leave nearly early enough tomorrow for my liking. By the time we get back to North Carolina and account for the time change, it’ll be late afternoon.
We’ll have a day or two to recalibrate, then chaos will descend on my home, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
The camera crew will arrive midweek to go through the house and determine where to install the cameras and mics. I’ve reviewed the contracts. Combed through the fine print. Almost nothing is off limits.
They’ll have access to it all. They’ll always be watching.
A year ago, it would have been little more than an inconvenience as we went through our day-to-day lives. The irony? Once I truly studied the contracts and accompanying documents, I discovered that this whole feature has been in the works for more than a year.
Now? With Josephine at the house, and because of the way things have evolved and shifted within the group?
It’s a gross invasion of privacy I can’t believe I’m allowing.
It’s mind-boggling how a single person can change one’s entire perspective on life.
That’s what she’s done. She’s flipped the script.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me from the fog that descended the moment the clock ran out. Kylian texted, saying he’s already back at the hotel. Good. He needs time to unwind and decompress after a game more than any of us.
I stash my phone, pull off my jersey and pads, then strip out of my base layers and head for the showers.
Kendrick’s in step with me, but Locke is standing in front of his locker, still in his full kit.
He’s got his helmet in one hand, his phone in the other. And he’s smiling at the screen like it holds all the secrets of the universe.
I nudge his shoulder to get his attention. “What’s up?”
Locke’s head snaps up, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be caught. Then Kendrick starts losing it, nearly doubled over with laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I demand. Fuck, I just want to be done with this night, yet my guys are threatening to pull me into whatever the hell they’ve got going on.
“Relax, Cap.” K straightens and cups my shoulder. “It’s just beyond obvious who’s got our boy smiling like that.”
Locke at least has the decency to glare at Kendrick.
“You gonna need a little extra time in the ice bath tonight to cool down, Nicky? Or…”
“Shove off,” he grumbles, finally tucking his phone away and starting to undress.
He was clearly texting Joey. I shouldn’t care about in the least, but I was messaging with Kylian sixty seconds ago, and I’m certain I didn’t have any unread messages from her.
I’m tempted to go back to my locker and retrieve my device, just to double-check.
I’m clearly a masochist.
“Let’s go,” I grunt, shouldering past Kendrick to hit the showers.
The faster we can get out of here—back to the hotel and back home, to her—the faster we can get this week over with.
My jaw aches from clenching so tightly.
We were late getting in the air because of a storm system. It was mainly over Texas and Oklahoma, thank god. I hadn’t even thought about what would happen if it stormed at the lake while we were all gone.
Then coach pulled me aside before I could leave the field house.
Apparently, the camera crew from the feature had sent their access list to the communications team at LCU, and a few of their requests were deemed too invasive, so we had to get on the phone with LCU PR, Misty, and the SportsZone PA to hash out a compromise.
A compromise that included an additional photoshoot on the field next week after the game.
Needless to say, we’re headed to the marina two hours later than planned.
Kendrick’s driving, Nicky’s slumped against the window, snoozing, and Kylian has his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He ended up flying home with the team after all, since his commercial flight was also delayed because of the storms.
“Corbin says they’ve been at the marina all afternoon,” I grit out.
“She’s fine,” Kylian assures me for the umpteenth time. He’s exhausted. We all are. But he’s also been short with me all day.
“You know that for sure?” The words escape before I can think better of them. This isn’t me. I’m not antagonistic. I don’t purposely try to get a rise out of people, least of all Kyl.
He leans forward and squeezes my shoulder in a way that’s supposed to be reassuring and comforting. All it does is crank up my anxiety even further.
“She texted me”—he pauses, presumably to check his phone—“eight minutes ago. The security guard you pay a huge sum of money just checked in to confirm that they’re waiting for us. We’ll be home soon. Cool it.”
If only I could. I’m anxious to get home, sure. But I’m more anxious to get to her.
I know it’s not a competition, but I can’t help but compare our situations.
He’ll get her in his bed tonight or sometime tomorrow. He gets to hold her and hug her and kiss her whenever he wants. I’ve got a few days to soak her in—from now until the camera crew descends.
Every minute that slips out of my grasp ratchets up my blood pressure another ten digits.
“Fucking finally,” Locke mutters from the back as we slow to turn into the marina.
Kendrick grunts his agreement, turning the wheel so he can circle the lot to park in his usual spot near the landing.
“Why is Jo sitting on the hood of your car?” This from Kylian.
The mention of her name makes my damn heart stutter, and of its own volition, my body contorts until I’m craning my neck, looking for her. Sure enough, both Josephine and Hunter are perched on the hood of my G-Wagon, legs crossed in front of them and heads bowed low.
Corbin is just a few spots down, wearing his typical surly scowl. The extra detail I hired are nearby, as well. Three boats hover just offshore, each one waving a distinctive red, black, and white flag so I can easily identify them from afar.
I don’t bother to grab my bag or gear, but I do make a concerted effort to slow my pace as I climb out of the Suburban and approach my car.
Hunter looks bored, her face relaxed and impassive.
But Josephine is trying—and failing miserably—to hide the biggest shit-eating grin.
She’s up to something.
And as much as moments like this used to irk me…
I struggle to hide my own smile the closer I get to the car.
The boys call out, asking about bags, but I don’t bother even glancing their way. I’ve only got eyes for her.
“Siren.” I step up between her legs, offering a quick nod toward Hunter. Then I fix 100 percent of my focus on my girl. “What did you do?”
Josephine bites down on her lower lip—saucy little temptress—still trying to hold in her grin.
Kylian swoops in beside me to greet her, grabbing her face and giving her a quick kiss. “Missed you, baby,” he murmurs before moving on toward the dock.
It’s the slight lean that gives her away.
Peering over the girls’ shoulders, I home in on my dash.
My all-black, always-pristine dash. Except, from the look of it, it’s now covered in color.
“Josephine…” I scold, storming around to the driver’s seat and whipping open the door.
A waterfall of knickknacks pours out at my feet. Yellows and reds, blues and purples. Bits and bobs of every color in a relentless stream. I scan the interior of my car, which is completely unrecognizable.
They’re everywhere. Covering every surface. On the dash. Along the floorboards. All over the seats. They’re even affixed, upside down, to the headliner.
“What the hell?” I grumble, looking from the mess at my feet to the even bigger mess filling my car.
“They’re ducks,” she quips at my side.
My chest lurches at her proximity. I didn’t realize she had hopped off the hood and come around to stand beside me.
Hunter is hovering near Kendrick and Locke, letting my girl fight her own battle, it seems.
“Ducks, Josephine? Really?” I pluck one of the blue rubber toys off my driver’s seat. If this isn’t the stupidest idea—
“I thought you’d like them,” she muses, still fighting back the mirth that’s determined to escape and paint itself on every one of her features. “I always see them in cars like yours. I thought the rubber ducks were a Jeep thing.”
With a huff, I shoot her a glare, though it’s almost impossible to hold when a snort breaks free from her and she slaps a hand to her mouth.
I hold back my own smile and will the scowl to remain as I breathe through my nose. “You know damn well this isn’t a Jeep, Josephine.”
“Hmm,” she muses, turning on her heel to head to the dock. “If you say so, Uncle Ducky.”
Locke bursts out laughing. Hunter finally cracks a smile. Josephine? She takes off in a sprint that has me tempted to call after her to slow down. I refrain, but only because Kylian’s waiting for her at the start of the dock.
This girl.
This beautiful, infuriating, magnificent girl.
“Cool it, Cap,” Kendrick murmurs, cuffing my shoulder as he comes to stand by my side. “It was just a joke. And I’ll help you clean these up. The girls will love them.”
I smirk at my friend, laughing to myself as I open the back door and more ducks topple out of the car.
Kendrick’s concerned about my reaction.
He must not realize that this is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.
On more than one occasion over the last few weeks, I felt her fire dimming. After the Sharks took her, obviously. Then again when I forced her on the boat. The night she told us about her past. Just a few days ago, when we squared off about her not traveling with us to the game.
Her light flickered, and I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time worrying that she’s closer to being snuffed out than she’s letting on.
“Why are you smiling like that?” K hedges, bending and snatching a handful of toys off the ground. “She doesn’t deserve whatever you’re plotting in your head, Cap. I’m sure it was—”
“Bro. Don’t you get it?” I interrupt.
Rising to his full height, he considers me, then eventually shakes his head.
“The ducks. The prank. All this mess?” I wave one hand toward the G-Wagon, then allow myself to exhale—truly exhale—for the first time in weeks. “She’s back, K. Our girl is back.”