43. Chapter 43
Goober and gator food
“Good to see you, man,” Marcus says, smacking me on the back as we bro-hug.
“You too,” I say before giving the same attention to Lane.
The Brewers are playing my old team tomorrow, and my two favorite buddies from the Raptors came to Pine Tree Falls a day early so we could catch up.
We take seats at a table in the local bar and grill, The Tipsy Bulldog.
It’s named after the local high school mascot, which seems to be a thing here.
There’s also Bulldog Hotel, Bulldog Cleaners, and The Big Dawg Diner.
“So what’s going on with you?” Lane asks. “You seem smilier than usual.” He circles a finger at my face. He’s not wrong. I smile like a loon all the time now. I have my dream girl, and in a few months, we’ll have the twins.
Leaning forward, I lower my voice. “You remember the woman from the resort, Juliette?”
“The one that busted your balls?” Marcus asks with a way-too-pleased smirk.
“That’s the one.” I pause for maximum dramatic effect. “She lives here in Pine Tree Falls.”
Lane lets out a whoop. “Fuck yes! This is just like one of those romance books.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re closer than you could even imagine, buddy. But you can’t tell anyone because her brother is… Baylor Ward.”
Two mouths drop open across the table from me, and Marcus shakes his head. “Dude, you’re playing with fire. Ward’s your teammate. He is going to snap your neck in two when he finds out you’re banging his sister.”
Anger boils up in me, but I do my best to put a lid on it.
My friends have no idea of the depth of my feelings for Juliette.
“It’s a lot more than that. We’re in love.
” I cross my arms over my chest. Maybe I’m pouting, just a little.
“And you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself against Ward. ”
“Naw, man. You know you’re a bad motherfucker, but what’s that saying about a brother scorned?” He arches one eyebrow.
“A woman scorned,” I correct dryly.
He swishes his hand through the air. “Same concept. I’m happy for you, but dating a teammate’s sister is practically taboo.”
I pop my chin up an inch. “Well, he’ll have to get the fuck over it because I’m going to marry Juliette. In fact…” I reach into my pocket and pull out a ring box. When I pop it open, I’m pleased at their sharp inhales.
“Dayum, boy,” Lane crows. “That’s gorgeous.”
“And it’s totally her,” I say, looking down at the most feminine ring I could find.
When I saw it, I knew it was perfect. An elegant three-carat marquise cut diamond is surrounded by smaller pink diamonds, and the band is etched with a pretty filigree design.
I could have gone bigger on the center diamond, but the ones I looked at with gigantic rocks didn’t have the soft femininity I was searching for.
They wouldn’t be right for my dream girl.
“Congrats, man,” Marcus says. “I hope you two will be really happy together.” Then he mumbles something under his breath that sounds like if you live long enough.
I put the ring back in my pocket, and the server comes by to take our orders. We all get sparkling water since we’re pretty fastidious about not drinking during the season. I’ll have an occasional beer, but certainly not the night before a game. We do decide to split some greasy appetizers though.
“So, you’re happy here in this little town?” Lane asks, looking around the small bar, not with snarky derision, just a curiosity about how I’m adjusting from living in a metro area to a rural one.
“Yeah, it’s actually pretty perfect. You get the small-town feel, and yet the DFW area is only a short drive away. Best of both worlds.”
Marcus leans his elbow on the table and drums his chin with his fingers. “Do they even have a ride share service here?”
A smirk toys with my lips. They’re going to love this.
“No, but there is a guy named Goober who will give you a ride in his twelve-year old Ford F-150 if you get too drunk to drive home. If you look like you’re going to hurl, he’ll make you ride in the bed of the truck.
He’s very particular about his upholstery. ”
“Goober?” they ask together.
“Yep, he even got a sticker made for the back of his truck that reads Guber with a U.” Marcus and Lane fall into each other in a fit of laughter.
“Oh fuck. That’s priceless.”
“According to local legend, Uber tried to sue him, but they lost because he doesn’t charge anything for his service,” I add.
“Wait, Goober the Guber driver does it for free?” Lane gasps, and I nod in confirmation.
“Apparently, he was arrested fifteen years ago for drunk driving, and as part of his probation, the judge ordered him to give inebriated people free rides home on the weekends. I guess to show him what it’s like to deal with drunks.
He enjoyed it so much, he continued even after his probation period was over. ”
“Shit, this is one of my favorite stories ever,” Marcus adds, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser and blotting his eyes.
“Another fun fact, Goober is married to the judge’s sister.”
My friends stare at me in disbelief for two beats, and then the hilarity starts all over again.
The locker room is filled with the sounds of rustling clothes, tape being torn, and small talk as we get ready for our home game against Denver. I’m sitting on the bench shirtless while I tape my stick.
“What is that on your back?” Baylor asks, and I crane my neck around to try and see.
“I don’t see anything.”
Baylor plucks something from the center of my spine and holds it up for inspection. “Dude, you have a dick on your back.”
“I feel like there’s a joke in there somewhere,” Gibby comments, “but I can’t think of it right now.”
I’m fucking panicking, looking at the hot-pink piece of penis confetti on Baylor’s finger and trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why it was there.
I swear on my life, I’m going to send Juliette’s friend a fifty-five gallon drum of cock confetti.
“That’s, uh, a practical joke some guys from Denver sent me. I think it’s called a confetti bomb. I’ve been finding the shit all over my house since last night.” The second part is true anyway. Dick confetti is surprisingly tenacious.
It sounds pretty believable, and Baylor seems to buy the explanation because he laughs. “Just further motivation to kick their asses on the ice tonight.”
And kick their asses we do. I’m having a game that will have me featured on multiple highlight reels tomorrow. I even scored a goal in the second period.
I’m feeling and playing like a beast, giving a metaphorical fuck you to Roland Priestner, the owner of the Raptors and the man who fired me. Though I’m glad he did because it brought me to Juliette. Still, it feels good to be having a banner game in front of the man.
With only a minute left in the game, someone slams Baylor into the boards, and when he bounces off, he goes down hard.
And doesn’t get up.
My teammate has regained consciousness by the time I get to the medical room. They already have his gear and uniform off, but I’m still fully dressed in mine except for my skates. I tore my laces in my haste to get them off.
“Hey, man,” I say, pushing a smile I don’t feel onto my lips.
Baylor looks at me blankly for a second before asking, “Are you my daddy?”
My eyes widen in alarm… until I see his little smirk, and I laugh with relief. At least that fall didn’t knock his sense of humor away.
“You asshole. You’ll do anything for a little attention, won’t you?” I tease, nearing his bed on the side where there are the fewest medical personnel. He smiles, but it’s replaced by a flinch when someone shines a pen light in his eyes.
We’re joking and insulting like guys do when they don’t want to admit they’re scared. I loop our thumbs and press our palms together, almost like we’re shaking hands, but I place my other hand on the outside of his, sandwiching his between mine.
We stay silent like that while the medical team tosses around info about pupils and trauma and neurologists.
“You all right?” I finally ask quietly, and his eyes meet mine, telling me he’s not sure. I can tell his pupils are dilated from the blow .
“I’m dizzy,” he admits. “Will you make sure Holly and Jules get to the hospital okay? They rode to the game together. Aiden is with Aunt Nedra because he had the sniffles today.”
“I’ve got them,” I promise, impressed that he’s worried about his family even while he’s lying here with an injured brain. I hope I can be half the husband and father he is. I want to tell him that, but this isn’t the time for that discussion.
There’s a commotion outside the room, and I hear my dream girl’s insistent voice.
“I swear, Barney, if you don’t let us in, I’m gonna… I’m gonna be really mad at you.”
Then comes Holly’s unmistakable voice, ramping up the threat from about a ten to a hundred.
“Open the door right now, Barney, or I will rip off your balls and feed them to a snapping turtle.”
The door opens without pause, and the two women rush in, flanking Baylor’s bed, cooing and petting at him until the doc finally makes them step aside.
“We’re taking him to Presbyterian Hospital,” he informs them before looking at me. “Mr. Swain, you have time to shower and change while we get him loaded into the ambulance.”
I nod, though that’s the least of my worries. I wrap a sweaty arm around each woman’s shoulders. They don’t seem to mind. Everyone’s attention is on Baylor, who they’re now wheeling out the door. He gives us a thumbs up on his way out.
After the quickest, and admittedly not the most thorough, shower of my life, I’m in my silver SUV with Juliette beside me and Holly sitting quietly in the back, her head tilted against the window.
My hand snakes over the console, and I press my bunny ears fingers against Juliette’s thigh.
Her soft smile of appreciation warms my heart, and then she makes the sign back before grasping my hand.
And I drive. As fast and as safely as I possibly can to the hospital.
Two damn hours after arriving, we’re led to a small private room. They said family only, but I planted my ass in there like I belonged and dared the nurse with a glare to try and make me leave. Holly and Juliette asked me to stay, so I’m fucking staying.
“It’s a concussion, like we suspected,” the neurologist declares. “He took a pretty good knock to the head, but he will make a full recovery.”
The occupants of the room breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Emmett and Isaac are slumped in chairs, their elbows on their knees, both of them with mirrored looks of worry on their faces.
Holly and Jules are tucked beneath my arms as we stand.
Xander and Jordie weren’t at the game tonight, but Holly has been in constant contact with the younger siblings.
“But…” the doctor continues, sucking our attention to him with a single word. “He has to follow directions and not be stubborn.”
Everyone glances at Holly with a good luck with that look. But by the hard set of her jaw, our stubborn-as-fuck patient has probably met his match.
The neurologist goes through the concussion protocol and instructs Holly to keep things quiet and dark in their home. And under no circumstances can he do any physical activity other than walking around the apartment.
“I’ll take Aiden for a few days,” Juliette offers. “He can go to the library with me, and I’ll bring him by around nap time when he’s quiet and sleepy so he can see his daddy. They can rest together.”
Holly nods and reaches for her sister-in-law’s hand. I love the bond between these two women, despite the whole weird beaver insemination deal. I still haven’t gotten the full story on that .
“They said they’re going to keep him overnight, so I’m going to stay here,” Holly says, hitching her purse onto her shoulder.
“I’ll arrange for someone to bring your car here from the arena so you can take him home tomorrow,” I assure her, and she gives me a grateful and exhausted smile.
Without thinking, I link my fingers with Juliette’s. It’s something I do at least a dozen times a day… just not in front of anyone else. Holly’s eyes drop to our joining, and then she looks back and forth between us.
After a long moment, she says, “The doctors said Bubba needs zero stress in his life right now.” Her eyes narrow and fix on me.
“And if you do stress out my husband with all…this….” She waves a floppy hand toward us.
“Just remember three things. I know where all the swamplands in East Texas are. I have a truck to haul things . And alligators leave virtually no trace of a body.”
Message received: Do not, under any circumstances, tell my teammate about my secret relationship with his sister.
Or I’ll end up as gator food.