Page 75 of Reach Around

“Hey, hey, I preferdeeply insightful observations,” Shep fires back. “And listen, we’ve had, like, what? Four signs now? The rock. The coasters. The water tower. And now the sign. Either someone is doing the world’s slowest marriage proposal or…”

“She’s in love with you,” Bennett finishes flatly. “Just sayin’.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, yanking off the other skate and tossing it into my bag. “You guys watch too many rom-coms.”

“Bro, I exclusively watch action flicks and Planet Earth,” Shep says, flopping down next to me. “But even I can see what’s going on here. Lucinda’s a mood, but I don’t think she can spell it.”

“Same,” Gage pipes up from across the room, pulling his shirt over his head. “And I don’t eventalkto women unless they talk to me first.”

“Okay,great, this is helpful.” I stand up, running a hand through my hair. “Everyone’s suddenly an expert on my love life.”

Bennett leans back against the lockers, arms crossed. “You sure you even have a love life? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, a suspiciously attentive bartender, questionable activities in Mom’s supply closet, and an entire team chirping the shit out of you.”

“I’m not talking about this,” I grumble, slamming my locker shut.

“Because you know we’re right,” Shep singsongs.

“I’m not talking about this because it’s none of your business.”

Shep gasps. “So thereisa thing! This is huge! Bennett, this ishuge.”

“It’s not huge.” I rub the back of my neck. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated like her lips on your lips?” Shep grins. “Or her lips on your…”

I flip him off and head toward the showers before I say something that’ll get quoted in a group chat for the rest of my natural life.

But yeah… maybe they’re right.

Maybe itwasJoely.

And maybe… that changes everything.

Dammit, I’m so confused. I shower, towel off quick and change into jeans and a hoodie, still trying to outrun the conversation from the locker room. My teammates think they’re subtle, butthey’re about as discreet as a foghorn in a library. Every look, every raised brow—it’s all code for“we see you, Foster.”

I’m barely out of the arena when my phone buzzes.

Joely:Any chance you’ll be at Power Play tonight?

I glance down at my phone, thumb hovering over the screen. It would be so easy—just text her, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Or “Missed you.” Or hell, anything real. But I can’t bring myself to do it.

My chest tightens. I read it again. Then again. It’s simple. Casual. Totally normal.

Only it’s not. Not anymore.

Not after the last month. Not after the coasters, and the rock, and the water tower, and now the sign.

I don’t answer right away. Getting into my truck, I lock the phone and shove it back in my pocket, heart pounding like I just missed an open net. The engine grumbles to life, the heater clicking on like it’s annoyed to be woken up. I sit there for a second, staring out the windshield as fat flakes of snow start to fall. Sorrowville’s always quiet in the morning—too quiet. Like the town’s holding its breath, waiting for the next thing to go sideways.

Kind of like me.

I don’t know what I’m doing. With Joely. With the team. With this damn contract hanging over my head like a guillotine. I want to believe she’s the one leaving all these messages of support. That it’s her way of showing she believes in me—even when I can’t believe in myself.

But what if I’m wrong?

What if I lean in, fall hard, and she lets go?

The door of the arena swings open again. It’s Virgil. He’s got a trash bag in one hand and what looks like a broken piece of a metal letter in the other.

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