Page 57 of Pucking Forbidden

Peyton stands up on Wren’s other side, hoisting a giant piece of posterboard over her head, too. This one has an arrow, pointing at Emilia.

I glance at Emilia warily, convinced she’s up to some bullshit. With her, it’s always some bullshit. But she just hops to her feet with a shit-eating grin, lifting her own sign.

“Sutton has a question for you,” I read before my eyes immediately slide toward my girl, standing in the middle of them with a bright, mischievous smile on her face. What is she up to?

I skate toward the bench, determined to find out.

Nash opens the door separating the bench from the stands, smirking at me like he knows something I don’t. Jesus Christ. Did she wrangle the whole team into helping her with whatever she’s doing?

My skates hit the cement as she steps forward, laughing softly.

“What are you up to, princess?” I ask, my eyes running over her. She looks damn good with my number stretched across her perfect tits. The last few weeks have been rough for her, but I think talking to Jamison last week helped. She’s happier now, like she’s made peace with the entire fucked-up situation.

She hasn’t forgiven him yet. That’s going to take a helluva lot of work on his part, but she has hope for him. It’s fragile, but it’s more than she had last week or the week before that.

For once, he’s doing the work. It doesn’t change what he did. It doesn’t fix it or undo it. It certainly doesn’t make him less of an asshole. But it’s the first step in mending their relationship, at least.

I hope to God that he sticks with it for her sake. But if he doesn’t, if he slips back or decides he’s not willing to face all of his demons to make things right with her, she’ll be okay. The fact that we’re good—really goddamn good—healed a lot of the damage he caused. Having Vanessa back in her life, knowing that her best friend doesn’t blame her, healed the rest.

She told me that she used to think life with me would be a fairytale. It’s my mission to make sure she gets exactly what she wanted. It won’t always be pretty. It certainly hasn’t been so far. But the best fairytales never are. That’s why we love them.

“Probably making life more complicated for both of us,” she says brightly, stepping so close her tits press up against my pads. “But your life went off track in the middle of a game, so I figured it was only fitting to get it back on track in the middle of one, too.” She takes a deep breath. “Jordan James Silvestri, wi–”

“Marry me, princess,” I growl before she can finish her question. I already know what it is, and to hell with that. I tug the necklace out from beneath my jersey, breaking the piece of tape securing her ring. I’ve been carrying it for the last week, worried she’d find it before I could find the perfect moment to ask.

This is it, though. And for exactly the reason she said. Our lives veered off course in the middle of a game, when I walked into a locker room and caught her brother acting like a fucking moron. We’ve been nudging the train back onto the tracks little by little for weeks.

This is where we finally set it right.

This is where we finally get it right.

This is where we finally get our forever.

I unclasp the chain, sliding the ring off.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispers, staring at me with wide eyes. And then a soft laugh burbles from her lips. “How is that I’m the one who planned this whole proposal, but you’re the one who came with a ring?”

“Easy.” I slip the ring onto her finger, a swell of emotion in my throat at the sight of it glittering on her finger. “A Boy Scout is always prepared.”

“You’ve never been a Boy Scout a day in your life, handsome.”

“Close enough.” I shrug, acutely aware that everyone in the vicinity is watching us. Fuck it, though. If this hits the news, at least they’ll all know it’s my ring on her finger. At least they’ll know how goddamn happy she’s going to make me for the rest of my life. I ain’t mad about it.

I tip her head back, locking eyes with her. “What do you say, baby? You going to marry me?”

“Hell yes,” she whispers. “But I wanted to ask you.”

“Yeah, fuck that noise. I’ve been dreaming about asking you for six years, Sutton. There’s not a chance in hell I was letting you ask me.” I dip my head, brushing my lips across hers. At least, that’s my intention, but her tongue touches mine, and we end up making out while everyone around us hoots and hollers.

“Well, it took you long enough,” she mumbles breathlessly when we finally come up for air, her face tucked against my throat.

I grin, pressing my lips to her ear. “My apologies, princess. I’ve been busy trying to fuck my kid into you.”

“Too late,” she whispers. “You already did that.”

Jesus Christ.

I pull back, meeting her watery gaze as hope and awe crash together in the center of my chest. “You mean…?”

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