Page 212 of Pucking Wild

“Oh, shit,” Sanny laughs.

I pause, tennis ball in hand, Poseidon dancing at my feet. “What?”

He’s standing in the surf, water lapping his bare feet, looking up in the sky.

“No way,” Jake cries, one hand over his eyes. “Dude, that is so fucking cool. Marry her or I will.”

“You’re already married, asshole,” Caleb says.

“Technicality,” Jake says with a distracted wave of his hand. “Besides, you’ve never given me a message in skywriting before.”

Heart racing, I shade my eyes with my hand, peering up into the sky. One of those little red prop planes is flying past, right along the coastline, trailing a big white banner behind it. “Oh my god. What does it say?”

“It says ‘Marry me, Ryan,’” Sanny replies.

I slow turn to face them, my smile fading to a frown. “You two are in on all of this, aren’t you?”

“No,” Sanny says as Jake laughs and says, “Duh.”

Sanford elbows him and they bicker as I look back up at the plane. The words on the banner are in big, bold black letters, but with the fluttering, it’s sorta hard for me to read. Just in case, Tess made sure the guys would be here to read it with me.

I smile. My girl thinks of everything.

In the past year, I’ve come out to the team about my dyslexia. They were super cool about it. Not that I expected any different. I’ve never felt so at home with a team like I do with the Rays. They’re my brothers, my family.

The only real hurdle was Poppy. She cried and told me I was brave and then I had to talk her down for three whole days because she wanted me to do a big literacy campaign with the local public schools. It’s not a never, I assured her. Just a no for now.

I may be a tough guy out on the ice, but my dyslexia is still a vulnerability I don’t like sharing. The guys all get it. Tess definitely gets it. Maybe some day I’ll put my face on a dyslexia poster. But for now, I’ll stick with the stupid billboard out by the airport.

Jake watches me with a big grin. “Dude, this is fucking romantic.Pleasetell me you’re saying yes.”

Oh, I’m saying yes. It’s been a long road for both of us to feel truly ready, but I’m marrying the fuck out of that woman.

I just have to find her first.

I get backto the house, and Tess’s car is still gone. I don’t even have to go in to know she’s not home. She’s not nearly finished torturing me today, I just know it. But if this night doesn’t end in a proposal, she’s gonna be sleeping in a tent on the porch.

I mean, I’ll sleep in it too, because I’m not leaving my woman out in the wild where animals could get her. But I have to prove a point, so tent camping it is.

God, I am a whipped fucking asshole.

I smirk, letting myself into the house. I’ve only got about forty-five minutes before I have to leave for the arena. I hurry through my routines, passing my kitchen full of roses. I shower, shave, and do some stretches while I have a snack.

Meanwhile, Tess maintains total radio silence.

I slip into my suit and head down to the laundry room where I keep my gear bag. I retrofitted a shower and hang-up area for all my stuff. It keeps it from stinking up the rest of our stuff in the main closets.

I grab my backpack, ready to stuff my workout gear, a change of underwear, and some fresh socks inside. I pull the zipper and my eyes immediately narrow. There’s something tucked into the front pocket. I widen the zipper and tug out a blue file folder. Flipping it open, I peer down at a legal-looking document. It’s an application of some kind, with spots for your name, address, and phone number. It’s been filled out in blue pen. My heart thrums as I work through the first few lines.

“Oh my god.” Tears sting my eyes as I trace my finger along the lines, stopping when I see my last name: L-A-N-G-L-E-Y.

Now I’m smiling like a fool. This is a name change application. We talked about doing it a while ago. I had just returned home from an away game and she asked me if she could take my name, even with us not being married.

“Tess Owens is my past,” she said over shared cartons of pad Thai. “I want Tess Langley to be my future…even without the ring.”

Of course, I said yes.

The next day, Doc stopped by with a set of fancy, monogramed towels that had them both laughing for ten minutes straight and ended with them crying and hugging.

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