Page 127 of Reach Around

She’s looking at me like she already knows, but I can’t let this be quick—not after everything. I kneel down, take her hand in mine, and feel how small and strong it is—how familiar. I clear my throat, and suddenly every joke, every chirp I ever made about marriage feels like it’s melting right out of my head.

“Joely,” I start, voice rough, “I know this isn’t some fairytale proposal with fireworks or a skywriter, but that’s not us. That’s never been us. It’s always been messy and loud, and stubborn, and… real. I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to something—my brothers, my dad, the game, the town. But the only time I ever felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be was with you. Doesn’t matter if it was a backyard hockey game in fifth grade or you pouring me Cokes from behind the bar when I had a shit game. You’re my person, Joely. My home.”

She squeezes my fingers, and I realize my hands are shaking.

“I don’t care if we end up in a house that’s falling apart, or if we’re old and cranky and yelling at squirrels together. I want all of it. With you. Every Monday night football, every weird bird you adopt, every sign you ever climb up to hang for me. I want the mess and the laughter and even the broken ankles, if it means I get to be the one who carries you home.”

My voice breaks. I let it.

“I don’t want to wait another day to call you mine, not just in front of the team, or my mom, or the whole damn town—but forever. I love you, Joely. You’re it for me. Will you marry me?”

She blinks, then laughs through a choked sob. “Are you serious?”

I grin. “Dead serious. Even more serious than Boone on laundry day.”

She starts crying. Happy tears.

“Yes,” she says, before I can even finish opening the damn box. “Yes!”

The moment I slide the ring on her finger, the beachexplodesbehind us.

Shep.

Of course it’s Shep.

Flares go off like someone launched a Fourth of July finale with zero supervision. Sand flies into the air like rice, and Joely is laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

“Perfect timing,” she gasps.

I pull her close. “You’re damn right it is.”

And then I kiss my fiancée.

Fiancée.

Hell yeah.

I don’t even make it all the way upright before all hell breaks loose.

So much forjustthe eight pack because more flares scream into the sky like a redneck tribute toThe Hunger Games, hissing and cracking above the water. One spirals off course, and I swear, it nearly takes out a passing duck. The seagulls that had been peacefully scavenging along the shoreline lose their feathery minds.

They shriek like they’ve seen a ghost. Or, more accurately, like they’ve seen Shep.

Which—valid.

“What the actual—” Joely ducks instinctively, laughing as a bird dive-bombs past her head. “Sheplit the flares?”

I squint through the smoke. “You’re surprised?”

“No,” she says, beaming. “Just mildly concerned.”

A gull swoops low and drops a payload of horror straight onto the unsuspecting dome of my brother.

Bennett has been anointed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he roars, staggering back like he’s been personally attacked by the sky. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Joely doubles over in laughter, clutching her stomach. “It pooped on him!”

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