Page 52 of Big Rucking Disaster

Like the no protective gear.

Roger’d taken another hard hit, and Becca stressed about his shoulder until Francine gave him the okay and he’d charged back into the game.

Montréal grabbed the loose ball, and before Vancouver could really mount a defense, the Québecers had the ball over the line.

Three quarters of the stadium groaned while a small group of die-hard Montréal fans cheered their hearts out.

Time elapsed, and the game ended.

“Come on.” Becca grabbed my hand.

“What…?” I barely had time to respond before she was hauling me along the row and then down the aisle. “Aren’t we supposed to meet them in the waiting area?” At least that’s where I’d met Johnnie before. When Carly had been there. Bit of a catastrophe, that night.

Yeah, but you’re here now, and she’s not. She’d made her choice when she turned on Johnnie. People broke up. Hell, he might dump me. Didn’t give me the right to attack him on social media or impugn his reputation. He hadn’t cheated on her. He’d stayed faithful. He’d also realized their relationship needed to end. And ended it had—in spectacular fashion.

The security guard took one look at the charging Becca and, bright man, stepped aside. Of course, she’d been coming here forever, and apparently most of the staff knew her.

Roger spotted her and strode over, scooping her into his arms and kissing her fiercely.

Isaiah headed our way and belatedly I realized Travis was behind me.

Another emotion-laden reunion. These guys had played their hearts out, but beating Montréal just seemed out of their reach.

“Yardley!” Johnnie shouted my name.

He ran over, and nearly knocked me over as he wrapped his arms around my neck.

Right there, on the field, he kissed me for all he was worth.

Despite the general noise, Becca’s cheer, as well as the hoots and hollers from the rest of the team permeated my kiss-drunk senses.

He pulled back. “I should lose more often.”

“I don’t care. I mean, obviously—for your sake—I’d prefer you win. But I’d love you either way.”

A camera flash went off.

We turned.

The photographer grinned at Johnnie. “Who’s this?”

Johnnie continued to hold me. “Yardley Morrison. He’s my boyfriend.”

My heart melted.

Epilogue

Johnnie

“You may kiss the groom.” The priest beamed as he offered the words.

Isaiah grasped Travis’s cheeks in his hands and pressed the sweetest of kisses.

Had that been me? I’d have kissed Yardley for all I was worth.

As if sensing that, he grasped my hand.

The grooms before us, though, had to be more circumspect. Isaiah’s mother had spent a lot of time cajoling her church to let her baby boy get married here—in a space she held close to her heart. The battle had been an uphill slog, but she’d won. This was the first gay wedding to be held here and, we all hoped, not the last.

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