Page 71 of Offside Angel

My friends lean in, fawning over the delicate charms. On the back of each hockey stick is a “Z” and an “A.” For my boys.

“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Can Zane give Reeves gift-giving tips? To him, that ‘Dick in a Box’ song is not a joke.” Jemma’s smile wavers somewhere between a laugh and a grimace. “He would absolutely give me his dick in a box.”

I decide not to tell them that the necklace also came with a note in Zane’s handwriting. I have it folded inside of my purse right now. I reread it in the parking lot like a smiling idiot before coming inside.

I plan to get you a much more expensive piece of jewelry the second I’m positive you’ll accept it. Until then, I’ll claim you like this.

I’d say I’m hearing wedding bells, but it’s more likely they’re blaring alarms. I still haven’t told anyone about the Smuckers murder scene I found in my locker, though Zane came incredibly close to fucking it out of me the other night.

I want to imagine wearing a white dress and getting married to Zane. I want to picture Aiden as a little ringbearer and me pleading my undying love for Zane in front of all of our family and friends.

But with everything else going on right now, dreams of a wedding quickly morph to include buckets of pig’s blood and fiery death.

Not exactly the genre of daydream I’m going for.

“Shit!” Rachelle jumps up, almost knocking over our teensy cafe-style table and earning even more glares from the people around us. “We gotta go, girls. The open house starts in half an hour.”

Taylor offers to pay the tab. “It’s the least I can do since you all are about to spend your night looking at preschool art.”

“I’m actually kind of excited,” I admit. “A couple months ago, Aiden was drawing pictures of me as a head with arms and legs growing out of it, but now, he does bodies with necks and everything.”

“Wow. Necks,” Taylor drawls. “I see we’re setting the bar high.”

I’m not just excited to see a picture of me with a neck; I’m also excited because the team’s plane arrived a couple hours ago and the men are meeting us at the school.

As soon as we pull up, my head is on a swivel, searching the crowd for Zane.

Rachelle elbows Jemma as we walk through the doors of the school. “Zane knew what he was doing with that necklace. He is sooo getting lucky tonight.”

“Again,” Jemma pants, “someone tell Reeves. I’d be hunting for him like that if he left me cute gifts, too.”

Rachelle spots Gallagher standing in front of a full-sized self-portrait that looks mostly like a chalk outline of a dead body, and she splits off. Then Jalen stands on a table in the back corner of the gym and waves his arms over his head, calling for Jemma.

“There’s my hooligan.” She squeezes my arm as she leaves. “Catch up later?”

I nod and navigate through endless tables of soap boats and lemon batteries and dioramas that explain the water cycle until I see a shock of blonde hair sitting on top of a set of broad shoulders.

As soon as Aiden sees me, he starts smacking Zane’s forehead. “She’s over there! I see her!”

Zane winces and nods. By the time I make it to them, he’s sliding Aiden off of his shoulders.

“We couldn’t find you and we got desperate. I almost lost an eye.” Zane pulls me in for a quick kiss. Our lips press and hold for slightly longer than necessary. When he pulls back, Zane’s gaze shifts to my necklace. “You like it?”

My hand flies to the hockey sticks for what has to be the hundredth time today. “I love it. More than anything. Thank you.”

“I meant what I said in that note.” He leans in, his voice low enough that I feel the rumble of it in my toes. “Give me the sign and I’ll get you something even better.”

I try to match his smile, but it’s bittersweet. From where I’m standing, that kind of happily-ever-after moment is a long, long way off.

Before Zane can notice my half-assed smile, a woman with a red braid and a prairie-style dress pops her head in. “Hi there! I’m Mrs. Wilson, Aiden’s teacher.”

Aiden darts between me and Zane to wrap his arms around Mrs. Wilson’s legs.

“You just saw her an hour ago, bud.” Zane tries to pry Aiden back, but he holds tight.

Mrs. Wilson laughs and squeezes him back. “It’s okay. This is the best part of the job. Preschoolers always let you know exactly how they feel about you.”

I don’t look to confirm, but I swear I feel Zane’s eyes slip to me.

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