Page 83 of Lace 'em Up

“I’m fine,” I whisper.

His expression gentles, but he doesn’t argue with me, just turns off the shower and wraps me in a towel. And even before I manage to push up to my feet, he’s lifting me in his arms, carrying me over to the vanity and setting me on the counter.

He steps back, snags his robe from the back of the door, and a heartbeat later, I’m engulfed in soft flannel that smells of him.

“There,” he murmurs, slipping the towel free and tying the robe shut.

“Wait,” I say when he starts to turn, hand extended like he’s going to hang up the towel.

I take it from him, and then—heart pounding because this is a small thing but it feels like a very big thing—I drag the fabric of the towel over his chest, scooping up water droplets, drying his skin.

He goes still, so still that he resembles a statue.

I want to say something, anything, but my heart is in my throat.

And I know this small thing—all of the tiny pieces of our time together—are going to destroy me.

“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs a heartbeat after I finish.

I nod, settle the towel in my lap. “Of course,” I whisper.

And then I stop, gripping the material tight.

Because I don’t know what the hell to say next.

Because I’m an awkward mess and I don’t know what to do next.

Because the world is topsy-turvy and small things are huge and?—

Fingers on my jaw again, drawing my gaze from my hand clenching at the white cotton back up to King.

“Come to the game tonight?”

My fingers convulse. “Wh-what?”

His hand shifts, palm cupping my jaw. “I want to look up and see you in the stands, princess,” he says.

My pulse thunders in my veins. “Really?”

“Yeah, baby.” A beat. “Really.”

“But the guys,” I sputter. “Th-they’ll see me there, see the ring and they’ll kn-know that?—”

I’m not making any sense.

I’ve gone to plenty of games. I don’t have to wear the ring.

But…this is different.

This is me going for him.

It means something.

And that’s terrifying.

“I don’t care about the guys.” A beat. “Or if you wear the ring.” His fingers flex and he seems to be warring with himself. “I care about you.”

I inhale so sharply that I choke on my own spit.

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