The Pucking Proposal (Maple Creek)

DeBoer’s doing fucking awesome.

It’s the one bright spot of riding the bench. A few months ago, I would’ve been pissed that he was doing well. Might’ve even secretly wished he’d fall on his ass. But now, I’m proud of him and glad he’s getting a chance to shine.

If only it wasn’t because Shepherd’s threatening to cut my dick off and feed it to me for daring to fuck his sister.

“I love her, asshole,” I hiss, not sure if he can actually hear me on the other end of the bench.

“Did you just say that you love her asshole?” Blakely asks, staring at me, gobsmacked.

I growl at him. “No, tell Shepherd that he’s being an asshole because I love Joy.”

Blakeley shakes his head, his eyes still wide as if that’s just as bad. “I’m not telling him that. Don’t think anyone else is looking to play telephone down the bench for you either.”

I lean forward, trying to look each man in the eye, but they’re all studiously keeping their attention on the game. Even Shepherd refuses to meet my gaze, but I’m pretty sure he’s staring holes in the wall across the ice from him. I think there could be skating elephants doing triple salchows out there right now and he wouldn’t notice because he’s likely plotting my slow and painful demise.

“Fine. This conversation is happening, though,” I say to no one in particular.

Final score: Royals: 6. Moose: 5.

DeBoer doesn’t let a single goal past him. All six of those failures are on my shoulders. The loss is my fault.

It’s an odd vibe in the locker room. People want to congratulate DeBoer and VanZandt for stepping up even though we ultimately lost, but they’re also eyeing Shepherd and me like we’re going to start whaling on each other again at any second.

They’re right.

“What the fuck, Days?” Shep yells, throwing his arms out as he comes in from the hallway. “One rule, that’s all I ask, and everyone here knows it. What’s the rule, guys?”

Someone recites, “Don’t fuck a teammate’s sister.”

“That’s right. Hope and Joy have been off-limits since day one, and you know it!” He points an accusing finger at me. “So what do you do? Go and fuck her. You did, didn’t you? Don’t try to deny it. Why else would she be holding up a damn ‘I love you’ sign? You stick your dick in damn near anything that walks, get them all fucked up in the head, and then move on to the next, don’tcha, One-Night?”

I’m doing my best to let him rant. He needs to get it all out. But I can’t let that stand. Not when he’s talking about Joy that way. She might be his sister, but she’s my heart.

I move in, throwing a punch of my own this time . . . right to his jaw. I feel it connect, feel the shift of his jaw because he wasn’t expecting me to fight back when he’s certain he’s got righteousness on his side.

“Fuck you, Shepherd. You don’t know shit! I love her, okay?”

That makes everyone stop and stare at me in shock.

“What did you say?”

I don’t know who asks. It doesn’t matter because in the next second, the door of the locker room flies open and Joy barrels in with a security guard hot on her ass. “I’m allowed here!” she insists, but she’s not stopping either way, even as the guard tries to grab her arm.

I instantly move in to make sure the guard doesn’t touch her, informing him with a hard stare and a raised, gloved fist that if he lays a hand on her, he will die by mine. “Put your dicks up in front of my woman,” I snap at all the guys, breaking the other rule about Joy Barlowe.

“Did he say his woman? Did we suddenly end up in a Bridgerton episode?” Max stage-whispers.

“He also said dicks, so I don’t think so,” Randall answers. “And ssshhh, this is about to get good, I can tell.” I’m pretty sure he mimes eating popcorn too.

The security guard freezes when he sees me staring him down like he’s two seconds from death. His eyes quick-scan the room, noting the crowd of players, all of whom are eyeing him like he’s the problem here, not Joy, even though she steps right up to the team’s star player, plants her finger in his face less than an inch from his nose, and snarls, “If you punch Dalton again, I will light your truck on fire and piss on the ashes, tell Mom and Dad about graduation night, and make sure you never get a moment’s airtime again. Capisce?”

Shepherd’s brows jump up his forehead at her laundry list of threats and then drop down in bewilderment. From behind her, I can’t see her face, but something there makes Shepherd pause. “What the hell’s going on, Joy?”

“I’d like the answer to that too,” I say.

Joy holds up a finger to Shep, telling him to wait one second, then spins in place and meets my eyes. At first, hers are full of fire, but they soften the instant she sees me and she snuggles into my chest, looking up at me like I hung the moon and stars. Her voice goes sweet as she says, “Heeey there, so I’m gonna defend your honor against my asshole brother, and then we’ll figure us out, okay? Plus, after that, I’m gonna need you to keep me from murdering that lying bitch Mollie the Moosette. Yeah?”

Too stunned to speak, I nod mechanically. Before she turns away, though, I’m smiling. “Did you say you’re defending my honor?”

She places a gentle hand on my cheek. “Of course. The only thing my brother’s scared of is me, so I got this.” With that, she spins to face Shepherd, leaving me stupid and shell-shocked.

“I’m not scared of you,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest.

She cocks her head, letting him know that no one believes that. Least of all her.

“Look, Dalton and I are dating.” She waves a hand like that’s not quite right. “Well, we were until last night when I went and fucked it all up. And you’re gonna have to get over your little temper tantrum about it because I love him and I’m gonna do my best to fix things with him.”

“You’re dating?” he echoes, not sounding any less confused. “For how long?”

I think he got stuck on the first thing Joy said, but I heard it all. A tiny spark of hope starts flitting around in my heart. It tried to start when I saw her sign, but Shep’s punch kinda blew it out. It’s back now, glowing brighter by the second.

Joy glances back over her shoulder at me, but tells Shepherd, “Since October.” It’s a dropping bomb and she knows it.

“October!” Shep roars. “The fuck?”

“We didn’t mean for it to happen,” I try to explain. “At first it was—” I stop, not wanting to tell Shepherd how things started between Joy and me, and he narrows his eyes as if he can guess. I assure you, he cannot. Never in a million years would anyone come up with something as wild as a good luck penis peekaboo meet-cute. But it worked for Joy and me. “Things that we didn’t plan for kinda fell into place.”

I lay my hands on Joy’s shoulders, pulling her back to my chest.

She might think she’s defending me, but she’s not going up against her brother alone. We’re doing this together. It was always gonna be us telling Shepherd as a team. I’m trusting in what she’s said—that she loves me and we’re gonna fix things. At least for the moment, she deserves that trust.

We deserve this chance.

“I want you to get your fucking hands off my sister,” Shepherd growls at me.

I don’t move, but Joy replies for me. “And the day I give a knick knack, frick frack, good goddamn fuck what you want is the day I’ll let you dictate who I date.”

“I’m trying to protect you, Joy,” Shepherd tells her, peering into her eyes earnestly as he not-so-subtly tells her that she needs protection against me.

She steps closer to him, and though I hate to, I let her go.

There are multiple issues here. One is me and Shepherd, and we’ll have to fight that out. It’s gonna be ugly, likely involve more fists and blood, and hopefully end with us drinking a beer. But another is between Joy and Shepherd, and only they can settle it. I have to let them do it themselves.

“And I’m telling you I don’t need protection from him. If anything, he needs it from me because I’m the one who fucked everything up. Us”—she points back over her shoulder at me, and then at herself and Shepherd—“and us. This is all on me, and I’m sorry.”

Shepherd looks past Joy, meeting my gaze with hard, cold eyes. “One thing,” he reminds me.

I nod, acknowledging the reminder. “I’m sorry, man. I love her, but that doesn’t change the betrayal.”

“Again, that’s my fault, so put that all on me,” Joy insists, putting herself smack in the way of our stare down and raising her hand in case Shepherd doesn’t know who to blame. “Dalton’s wanted to tell you for months. I’m the scaredy-cat who told him not to. He was respecting my wishes.”

It’s a valiant effort on Joy’s part, but it’s not enough to balance out all the lies I told my best friend.

I’m tired.

Going to the gym.

Not seeing anyone.

Focusing strictly on hockey.

All things I’ve told him over the last few months when he wanted to get together, asked how I was doing, and basically was being a good friend to me. And all the while, I was falling in love with his sister behind his back.

I hate to admit it, but I’m not sure there’s any coming back from this for us. I hope there is, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to him, but this might’ve cracked the very foundation of our friendship beyond all repair.

“Barlowe! Days! Get your asses into my office!” Coach Wilson yells. He’s standing in the doorway, his face tomato-red and white spittle piled up in the corners of his mouth from the screaming he’s been doing during the last period of the game.

Shit. The game fiasco kinda fell out of my focus with everything going on with Joy and Shep, but Coach’s words bring it back into crystal clear sharpness.

Shep tries to walk away, but Joy grabs his arm and says, “Before you leave, find Mom and Dad. Give them a signed jersey. It’s a long story, but I promised one to a kid and I need you to make me not a liar.”

He stares at her like she’s asking for the keys to his truck or his ATM PIN, not the sweaty shirt off his back. He doesn’t answer, just strides past her with a huff of disbelief, but I’ll make sure it happens if he doesn’t. I don’t know why Joy needs it, but if she does, she’ll get it.

“Go home. I’ll be there as soon as I can so we can talk,” I tell Joy. I place a quick kiss to her lips and nearly shove her toward the door so she’s not hit by any shrapnel from Coach’s attack. This is gonna be ugly.

She places her fingers over her lips, but I can see the lift at the corners as she smiles. “I love you,” she whispers as I turn around to heed Coach’s call. I throw one more look her way, and smile before turning my face to stone and my spine to steel.

“Coming, Coach,” I say.